“It’s not boss,” Bap said. “It’s not all I wanted, but it’s a significant honor. It’s an acknowledgment, you know what I mean?” Frank wanted to cry. Maybe that was all the man had ever wanted: an attaboy, a pat on the back. Not a lot to ask. But Frank knew what it really was. It was poison wrapped in candy, a sleeping pill to lull Bap into a feeling of security. It was a death sentence. Frank almost told him. But he choked the words back.
