BY MAY I had moved out of my parents’ house and gone to live in a duplex on Murray Hill with my friend Roy and his cousin Joe and whoever else happened to be there (primarily James Lightfoot). Roy was a big Irish kid, and he wore the same fucked-up sport coat every day and drank 40s and rolled cigarettes with pipe tobacco. Joe was a pretty little wop. He couldn’t not get laid all the time. It was really something. He was adopted; that’s how he was Roy’s cousin. He was the toughest one of the three of us. He was tough as shit. We used to beat the shit out of each other to prove how tough we
...more
