All Our Yesterdays

1954 Conn They were on Harrison Avenue. Knocko was driving, as he always did. "Gus joined the forces of law and order?" Knocko said. "Yeah. City Square. Gets credit for Korea." "Good deal for these new kids," Knocko said. "Two years head start on the pension." Conn had a big paper cup full of black coffee. He took a pint of Irish whiskey from his coat pocket and poured some into the coffee. "For Crissake," Knocko said. "It's eight in the fucking morning." "Get my heart going," Conn said. He sipped the coffee. Knocko turned off of Harrison Avenue and parked near Tyler Street. "Collection day?" Conn said. "Friday morning, time to make the rounds," Knocko said. He got out of the car and walked down the alley to the mah-jongg parlor. Conn drank coffee and waited for Knocko. When the cup was half empty he added more whiskey. Knocko came back up Tyler Street and got in the car. "Been collecting money from this place for twenty-five years," Knocko said. "For protection." "Sure," Conn said. "Protection." "Well," Knocko said sadly, "now we gotta earn it." "I thought we did earn it," Conn said. "I thought we were getting paid to protect them from us." "Last six, seven years," Knocko said, "bunch of new gooks coming in. Deserters, mostly, from Chiang's army after the Commies chased him out." "Land of opportunity," Conn said. Knocko jerked his head toward the mah-jongg parlor down the alley. "They're trying to take Chou over," he said. "So let's tell them not to," Conn said. His coffee cup was empty. "You all right for this?" Knocko said. "Sure," Conn said. He took the whiskey from his pocket and had a drink and offered it to Knocko. Knocko shook his head. Conn capped the bottle and put it away. Knocko started the car and they drove two blocks and parked on Beach Street in front of a small variety store with Chinese characters lettered on the window. Knocko looked at Conn again. "In there," he said. "Guy we want is named Lone." "Like in Ranger," Conn said. "Yeah," Knocko said. "Like in Ranger." They got out of the car. "You okay for this?" Knocko said again. "I was born for this," Conn said. "Yeah, well, I wasn't. So don't be a fucking cowboy." "Hi yo, Silver," Conn said, and they walked into the store. It was dim inside, and smelled of odd things. Some smoked duck hung on hooks near the front window, and a variety of peculiar looking roots and unrecognizable vegetables laParker, Robert B. is the author of 'All Our Yesterdays' with ISBN 9780385304375 and ISBN 0385304374.