Joey got dizzy on a dame about every month or so; it was just the way the goofy palooka was put together, I guess.

That month, it was the Delaney skirt that he'd gone doolally over, and it had cost him. It was gonna cost him a lot more by the time all the bets were paid, but we didn't know that then.

You know the bird I mean if you've ever got your mitts on a rumble sheet in last two years -- jingle-brained hopper who liked to skate around a lot and slap cops in front of photographers. Joey'd gotten to bumping gums with her one night at the 23rd Street Club (which wasn't much of a club, and wasn't anywhere near 23rd Street), and wouldn't stop bending my ear about her, yammering about how "Rosie's the one for me."

I try to be patient with Joey, because we grew up together, but some days it ain't worth the coffee and doughnuts.

"Joey." I leaned my head back and blew a cloud of blue into the air. We were holding up the wall along the 17th Street Plaza. "Shut your head. You know I ain't interested in your latest twist." It was the middle of the day, because I had lunch off from the hardware store and Joey didn't have any kind of regular gig -- he got fired for daydreaming most of the time, if that gives you any kind of idea about him.

"Vince, Jesus..." he pushed off from the wall, jammed his mitts in his pockets. "This ain't like that. Rosie's different. She's --"

"She's a trip for biscuits, is what she is," I took another drag. "Your pockets ain't even gonna have lint in 'em, you get hooked up with her." He pulled a familiar silver coin out of his pocket, flipping it across his knuckles, which was just about the one thing he was good at. "You won't even have your old man's quarter."

"She's not like that, Vince. You..." His face lit up, like it used to when he found out my mom was making meatloaf that night and he could get invited over. He flipped the quarter into the air and caught it. "You need to meet her."

"No I don't."

"You do!" He gestured at me, like I'd just come up with the damn idea. "We can go down to 23rd Street tonight. You can bring Sally."

"I ain't gonna bring Sally, and you ain't got the spinach to show Rose Delaney the lights."

"You let me worry about the money; I got a plan." He grinned, which I'd told him before didn't help him look much smarter. "You just gotta show up and meet Rosie."

The main problem I had was not being able to tell Joey to fade when he was acting like a mug. It took him the rest of my lunch break, but he got me worn down. Happened every time.

The problem with doing something you don't, normally, is that you find out things about folks you already think you know from every side. I was gonna use Sally as an excuse to bail on Joey's cockamamie idea, because I figured she was good for dinner and maybe catching a flick and not much interested in anything else. Turns out I was just looking at her in one direction; soon as I mentioned going out to drag a hoof, she lit up like Christmas was coming early. She's always a doll, and I liked her happy with me more than the other way, but between being stuck with Joey's idea and getting that surprise about Sally in the same week, I felt like I'd been kissed in the eyeteeth.

Sally didn't notice, much; she was picking out a dress and a new pair of kickers.

Dames. I swear ta Christ.

That night -- it must have been six months ago, now -- that was when everything started going queer. Sally and I showed up and Joey was waiting for us outside. I barely recognized him, the way he was done up.

"Ain't you just togged to the bricks," I remember Sally saying. She sounded impressed. I wasn't. Seeing Joey done up all fifth avenue for some ritzy broad started me off cockeyed to her from the get go, sure, but it wouldn't have taken much to get me there anyways, once I got an eyeball on her.

Joey was dropping cabbage that night like he was trying to get a bad taste out of his mouth, and maybe he was -- he never did give me a straight answer about where he got that mazula, and it didn't stop that night, either -- I don't know what he was into, but I know it wasn't anything he woulda told his mom about.

That was the first night. I didn't like Rose Delaney on sight and I think she could tell cuz she laid a doll face on nice and thick, trying to bring me around every time Joey was off getting more giggle juice. I'm actually glad she did, really, because the way she was acting had Sally chewing her own teeth by the time she got home. The first thing she said, once we got off on her street, was "She acted like she didn't even see me there!" I think I got in a grunt by way of reply, and after that she was off to the races and didn't need me on the other side of the conversation to keep it going.

That helped me out a lot as the months went on -- if I hadn't had someone on my side, it would have been a lot harder -- not that it was a cake walk anyways.

Joey came around at lunch less and less. Sometimes he had some excuse about what he'd been up to, but most of the time he just shrugged and stared off at nothing. That suited him pretty well, because he was sort of fading off into nothing himself; he kept getting paler and skinnier every time I saw him. I said he looked like a scarecrow who'd skipped a meal, and he started wearing jackets to cover up. I noticed his eyes looked like bad tomatoes, and he started wearing cheaters everywhere he went.

Last week was when I knew I had to do something, though. That was when Joey tried to give me his pop's old quarter.

I just stared at it in his hand. "You remember what I said about that quarter, Joey? What that broad'd do?" His hand was shaking a little bit, but I tried to keep my eyes on the lead horse.

"You said she'd take it from me, Vince, but she ain't." He tried to grin, but it looked worse on him than usual -- like a bad suit that didn't even fit right anymore. "She doesn't want it -- wanted me to get rid of it -- so I figured I'd give it to you."

"How about," I drug the words out, like I was trying to explain the accounting books to my uncle Leo, "you keep it and tell her to dangle."

He laughed, like I'd told a joke, and kept going until he realized I wasn't coming along on the ride. His face kind of twitched, right then, and he flipped the coin to me. "You... you just... hang on to that for me, okay, Vince?" His face kinda sagged. "Please? She don't like me having it. Says it gives her a rash."

"Joey --"

"I-I gotta go." He choked on the words, jammed his hands down in his pockets, and took off.

I rang up Sally after work, turning the coin over while I waited for her to pick up.

"What kinda person gets a rash from silver, ducks?"

She knew exactly who I was talking about.

We got in a row that night before I got her turned around to my angle on things, but she had a lot of good points; I didn't know what Rose Delaney really was, just what she wasn't, and besides that her family was rich, which meant a big pain in the neck if I got caught -- the kind they give you with a short rope and a long drop.

Still, come midnight, she was packing up her bags to set alongside mine, and I was heading out, hoping I'd get back.

On the way, I made a stop at my current job (which was my idea), and a stop at my very first job (which was Sally's). We'd seen a lot of movies together, like I said, and some of them were flicks with vampires and things like that in them, so Sally figured holy water from St. Michaels would be even worse than silver on whatever Rose was.

Me, I figured that no matter what she was, getting a tackhammer stuck through her noodle would probably settle things, either way -- tends to take the zip out of pretty much anyone.

Joey answered the door. He looked even worse at night than he did during the day, which I suppose made sense. I socked him in the button and he went down like a boxer with a fat wallet.

Old Rosie tried to say something to me when she came out of the back room, but she didn't look so good with her eyes all black, and I'd stuffed cotton in my ears anyway.

The holy water made her kinda smoke. The tackhammer did what you'd expect. I didn't want her popping back up later, like they did in the movies, so I got a big knife from the kitchen and cut things up six ways to Sunday. That was messy; had to change my shirt after I got Joey and me back to Sally's.

Joey didn't come round for something like three days, which made it a pretty quiet drive. We were almost out to the coast by then -- I figured lots of sun would be a good thing for all of us, for awhile, and it's not like anyone was arguing.

So it's evening, and we're standing on the beach, watching the sun sink down into the ocean. Joey's flipping his old man's quarter over his knuckles, and I'm thinking about where I'm going to get a job, and how were gonna find a place to stay and maybe get some more papers from back home and figure out why none of them have mentioned Rose Delaney's violent departure from the juke joint scene, and Sally puts both her arms around one of mine, and stretches up, and gives me a smack on the cheek.

"What's that for?" I ask her, not really annoyed, because it's not like it bothered me.

And you know what she says?

"You make a pretty good hero, Vince." And she's giving me that little smile of hers, and her eyes are all proud-looking and shiny, like Joey's damn quarter.

Dames. I swear ta Christ.

-- Doyce Testerman (with thanks to Lori -- Thanks, Lori!)

• Silver
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