City on Fire (Danny Ryan, #1)

by Don Winslow

Liam pours some coke onto the glass coffee table. “They all treat me like dogshit.” “Who does?” Pam asks, tired of her husband’s self-pitying harangues. “Danny, for one,” Liam says. “All the guys at the Gloc. Even my own father thinks I’m worthless.” I wonder why? Pam thinks, although she knows better than to say anything. Maybe it’s because you started this whole thing, kept it going when you had a chance to end it? Maybe because you’ve sworn revenge for your brother—loudly, to whoever would listen—and haven’t done a damn thing except lie around and get high. Maybe because everyone—Danny, the boys at the Gloc, and your father—knows that you’re scared shitless of Sal Antonucci and won’t do a damn thing except talk. Which is what you’re good at, Liam. Talk. “At which point, my loving wife,” Liam says, “you’re supposed to say something like, ‘You’re not worthless, Liam. They’re all wrong about you. They’ll see.’” Pam snorts a line. “‘You’re not worthless, Liam. They’re all wrong about you. They’ll see.’” “Fuck you.” “Not lately,” she says. “You’re usually too stoned to get it up.” “Or I’m getting it somewhere else.” “God bless her, whoever she is. Good luck to her.”