“I don’t mean to offend you, but I wasn’t exactly expecting that guy to come out of the guy I met earlier today.”
“What? The Buckeye lovechild of Danny DeVito and Joe Pesci didn’t intimidate you?”
I laughed, shaking my head. “No, it’s not even that. Short guys can be tough. Every guy learns that lesson in life. Usually the hard way, too. I just mean, your whole personality changed.”
“Hey, kid. I don’t wantchoo ta think what happened back der to Skinny didn’t freak me da fuck out. I knew that guy. I didn’t want to see him end up like that. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m a fuckin’ arch criminal, alright. I’ve hurt people. It’s what it is, but I never did nothin’ like dat to a guy. Ya know?”
“You had me fooled,” I said. “I still don’t know how you became that other guy.”
“You like oranges?” he asked.
I laughed, caught off-guard by his question.
“Me?” he continued. “I love ’em. My favorite fruit, hands down. Growing up in Wooster, Ohio as a kid, we couldn’t get fresh oranges. The winters are just too damned brutal. But my grandparents were snowbirds and they’d come back up with these huge sacks of oranges. Each one, the size of a goddamned softball. I swear to you, the only thing I ever had in my mouth that was sweeter was Becky Halback’s pussy. Then again, my grandparents never brought me Becky Halback’s pussy in a sack twice a year, but I’m sure you get my point.”
“You’re a big fan of oranges and watermelon,” I said. “Got it.”
“You’re quick, kid,” Darwood said with a chuckle. “Anyway, this is how I see it. People are like oranges. They’re naturally segmented on the inside, but present as one whole thing on the outside. You know, if you think of each segment as a part of what makes up a person’s personality, that is. However, unlike an orange, a person’s segments aren’t all the same size. Maybe one guy’s aggression segment is big, and his fatherhood segment is fuckin’ tiny toons. So, he makes a good leg breaker but is probably a shit dad. What are you gonna do? Then, some other guy’s intelligence segment is huge, but his confidence segment is so low he couldn’t get laid in a whorehouse in T.J. on free fuckin’ taco night. You catch my drift?”
I nodded. “This is much better than Shrek’s ‘People are like onions,’ speech. I don’t recall his having any parts about Mexican whores. Please, go on.”
“One of my segments, probably the biggest one, is the one labeled ‘Average schmuck from Wooster.’ That part of my personality talks the way my family and neighbors do, feeds any duck that waddles into his yard, and truly thinks the Browns are gonna have a terrific season this year, ya know?”
I nodded.
“I try to bite into that segment of the orange as much as I can, because a lot of the time I have to be the guy you saw back in Sasha’s gallery and that takes its toll on a guy.”
“I look forward to the day you can take that piece of jewelry off your ankle and be Ohio’s favorite son, Krist Darwood, full-time.”
“You and me both, kid,” he replied.
“Hey, Clark Kent,” Officer Hart said, breaking up our little twosome. “You stole my line back there.”
“How’s that?” I asked.
“You know. Back in the car, I said I wouldn’t mind putting two in Sasha’s chest and you scoffed. Then, low and behold. What do you say to Fedya as soon as you put a gun on him?”
“I don’t know. You have the right to remain silent? To be honest, I don’t really remember.”
“Bullshit. You said, ‘Hands on the desk or I’ll put two in your chest.’”
“I don’t think I said anything about his chest,” I said.
“See, so you do remember. I—”
“Hey, Hart,” I said, stopping him. “In all seriousness, I think you need some extensive counseling. I really do. Maybe there’s some unresolved stuff withyour family or something. But also, thanks for having my back in there. That was a slick move with that plastic gun.”
Agent Hart smiled. “That was pretty fucking cool, right?”
“Real old school kind of spy stuff,” I replied. “George is gonna love hearing all about it. You did him proud, Hart.”
“Thanks, Kent,” he replied.
“Hey, that’s Superman to you, asshole.”
* * *
Two days later, Tess and I walked through Frank Graves’s office door.
