Manhattan, March, 1974

Three days later, the desk attendant at Montgomery Arms flagged Cose down and handed him a note, scrawled in red ink on lined yellow paper.

Cose, Go to Union Square, 14th street station. Look for me at eleven am. Don’t be late. Adam

At the appointed time, Cose spotted Adam sitting on a crowded bench, huddled in a wool jacket and sipping coffee from a styrofoam cup. He approached and waved a friendly hand, smiling as if this was an entirely normal meeting with an old friend. Adam grinned back, that same wicked leer that he flashed just before he slugged Cose in the gut the other night.

“Hey! It’s my favorite Dog Boy!” Adam stood up and handed the coffee cup over to Cose. “Here, you can finish this. It’s not very good. C’mon, let’s take a walk.”

Adam led Cose along the sidewalk on the east side of the park. Cose only had to smell the coffee to find that Adam was right. It smelled sour and rancid. He pitched the cup into an already heaping steel trash barrel.

“I appreciate you guys went ahead with that last set the other night,’ Adam said. “You all got hit with some bad news about Jockley. You didn’t let it stop you. You played like champs.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m sorry to hear about Jeff. He was kind of a friend of mine. I mean, he’s the whole reason you got mixed up in our business, right?”

“Yeah.”

“This might sound a little harsh, but I think it was the best thing that could happen for you. With Jockley, you guys were just another band trying to sound like the Stones. I mean, you guys were tight, no question. Btu there’s a thousand other High Bridge Hound Dogs out there. Now, Dog Boys! That was some wacky shit! I mean, it was like I was watching something from another planet. I don’t even know if it was good. But it was different and it was fun to watch, you know?”

“Thanks. It was really just an accident.”

“Accidents can be good. Now, I said I’d give you my opinion. Get rid of all of Jockley’s old songs. He was writing hippie druggie shit. You guys should stay away from that. Look where it got Jeff.”

Adam led Cose to 17th Street, then a few short blocks east, until they came to number 236. A plaque installed near the entrance bore a relief sculpture of Washington Irving. The door next to it was closed behind a metal grating.

“Press the buzzer. Somebody will let you in and tell you where to go. Maybe I’ll see you later, maybe I won’t.”

“Okay.”

“One more thing, Cose. Don’t lie. Not that you’ll have any reason to. But if you ever do, Kaplan will see through that, and it will make him very unhappy. No bullshit. You got that?”

“Yeah. I got it.”

“Good. It’s your game now.” He turned and walked away.

Kaplan sat at a decrepit desk in a small office on the second floor. The wood was riddled with wormholes, carved with initials and at the left end, it looked as though someone had once taken a sledgehammer to it. The office boasted two wooden chairs and a styrofoam ice chest. A small window looked back down onto 17 Street. A mesh of safety wire ran through the glass, which was covered in spider-web cracks.

In contrast, Kaplan was neat and well-groomed; a dress shirt and tie, and an elegant Italian jacket slung over the back of his chair. He held a folder in his left hand.

“Come in, Cose.”

Kaplan stood up and set the folder down on the hideous desktop. He extended his hand. “It’s nice to see you. Adam tells me you guys played a hell of a set.”

“Yeah. You could say that.”

“I’m proud of you, Cose. When I signed you up, I wasn’t sure you boys really had anything. Rock bands are as common as piss in an alleyway around here. You can probably guess, this isn’t my real office.”

“No, I didn’t think so.”

“This is just a place my guys can meet up in every once in a while. It’s a rathole. I apologize for that. Someday, maybe you’ll get to see our uptown office. It’s nice.” Kaplan motioned for him to sit down.

“Before we go any further, I want to make it clear that you and I are on good terms. You got that? As far as I’m concerned, if was Jockley’s contract. It was primarily his responsibility.”

Kaplan opened the folder and looked at the papers within. Cose saw that the contract he had co-signed was among the contents.

“Cose is your middle name. You don’t like your first name?”

“Elliot? It’s okay. It just never fit.”

“Where does Cose come from?”

“My grandparents. They came over from Poland. Their name was Kozlowski, but the guy at Ellis Island changed it to Cose.”

“Is your mom Jewish?”

“Her father was. But my grandma was Catholic, from Gdansk. They moved to America in the early twenties.”

“Classic. I got a Jewish father and a Puerto Rican mama. We’re a fucking rainbow coalition around here, right? Let’s look at this contract.” Kaplan shook his head and tsk’ed. “Oh Cose, you two could have made things so much easier on yourself. Even a few payments and you wouldn’t have all this interest.”

“I know. We didn’t know what we were doing.”

“Have you borrowed from anyone else? Some guys do that. They pay me back by getting a loan from someone else. And the other guy they go to is a real crook! And by then they’re in so much shit, they’re never getting out unless they maybe disappear into a federal program or something. I hope you haven’t done that.”

Cose shook his head.

“Tell me straight, Cose. Of that initial two grand, is there any of it left?”

“No, sir.”

“How much of it went to Jockley’s drug habit?”

“I’m not sure. I took control of the band’s account about six months ago. At that point, there was about seven hundred left.”

“And where has that gone?”

Cos had nothing to say but the unfortunate truth. “I don’t think you’ll like the answer. I’ve basically been living off of it. Using it to survive until more work comes along.”

Kaplan stood slowly and walked around the desk, then sat on the edge of it. His eyes never left Cose.

“You’re right. I don’t like that answer.”

Kaplan placed his hands on Cose’s shoulders and shook him, just once. One firm, angry shake. “That was stupid, Cose! You should be dead!”

Cose felt his insides collapse. He choked, and his eyes began to water.

Kaplan stood. “But you’re not dead. I need you to know how serious this is. You have to understand that I don’t come down to this shitty office for just anything. Now pull yourself together. Crying isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

Cose put his hands to his eyes and wiped them. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Just listen. Your contract has accumulated three thousand in interest. You’re completely under water. Now, here’s the good news. There’s something you can do for me. It’s easy, and I think you’ll even enjoy it. You do it for me, and I’m waiving the interest. Does that sound interesting to you?”

Cose sniffed, and felt the embarrassment at his emotions hanging so baldly out in the open. “Yes,” he said. It came out strained and weak.

“Three thousand gone, but you will still be responsible for the two grand. You got that?”

“Sure.”

“I’m doing this at some risk to myself, you understand? I may be in charge of this little operation, but I have people I answer to. They frown when I get soft like this. I hope you appreciate that.”

“I do, Mr. Kaplan.” He decided to stop staring at his knees and lift his upper body, sit upright and look at Kaplan directly.

“That’s more like it. Sit up like a goddam man.” He returned to the desk. “You don’t need to worry, Cose. I like you. You’re gonna be fine.”

Cose nodded. It crossed his mind that he was lucky to be here, lucky to be alive at all.

“I’m going to put you to work for me. Nothing scary. I’m not going to ask you to break any laws or anything. If it doesn’t suit you, we figure something else out. But it’s going to be so easy, I bet you’ll decide I’m actually an okay guy to work for. Maybe you’ll stick around long enough to work off that two grand with me. Maybe I can help you achieve some of those new goals you made for yourself and your band.”

He looked at Cose with an expectant smile. Cose felt his throat knot. He cleared it and tried to speak, but a quiet wheeze had to suffice in lieu of words.

“You need something to drink?”

Cose shook his head. Kaplan stood and walked to the ice cooler. He took out a beer and handed it to Cose.

“It looks like you got something to say and you’re afraid to say it. Don’t be. There’s nothing wrong with speaking your mind.”

Cose held the beer but didn’t open it.

“Thanks,” his voice sounded as a near-whisper. “Listen, Mr. Kaplan. I have a debt of honor that I owe you. And whatever this job is, I’m going to do it. But after that, well …” He popped the tab off the can and took a long sip.

“This is kind of personal. If I work for you, I can’t be involved with drugs. Not because I care about if it’s legal or not. It’s just that, I screwed up once. Real bad. So bad that my family basically wants nothing to do with me. And now, ever since what happened to Jockley, I’ve decided, I can’t be an honorable person if I ever have anything to do with narcotics again.” He felt a thin wet streak roll down from his temple to his chin.

Kaplan sat back in his chair and gave Cose a hard stare. “Let me tell you something.” He paused along enough to open a drawer and pull a small case out of it. “You just won my respect. And I don’t give that out to very many people, all right? What you just said to me, that took balls. Most of my guys don’t have those. I’m glad to know that you do.”

Cose couldn’t meet Kaplan’s eye anymore. He looked over to the cracks window and the abstract blur of city beyond it.

“I want you to know something. I don’t put drugs on the street. Okay? I get drugs off the street! Drugs don’t do my business any good. You saw what happened to Jeff. Your band was going somewhere. And that doesn’t just made me sad, it makes me angry. Hey, c’mon, look at me for a sec.”

Cose looked back at Kaplan. He was leaning across the desk.

“I promise you, no job I ever send you on will have anything to do with narcotics. I don’t deal them, I don’t buy them. And if you keep your nose out of them, you and me are always going to get along.”

Cose nodded. “What do you need me to do for you?”

“I’m forgiving three grand in interest. And so this job has to be worth that. And it is. It’s worth more than that. But for reasons that don’t have anything to do with monetary value.”

Cose’s stomach growled. It was no gentle moan. It was an aria from a grand opera. It wasn’t something that either of them could ignore.

“So that’s kind of embarrassing,” Cose said. Kaplan smiled and laughed.

“That’s because I’m scaring you, Cose. I’m sorry about that. Hey, I can tell you’re a musician. You got real good tone.”

Cose laughed at that. At he felt his internal meter ease off a little bit. Kaplan was manipulating him. He knew his only choice was to go along with it.

“You know what I want you to do? I want you to play a gig. Not your band. Just you. Can you hold a room with just you and your guitar?”

“Yeah. Oh, hell yes. I can do that.”

“Good. Mostly, all you have to do is go to a party and play your guitar. Sing a few songs and make people feel good. You have your own guitar, right?”

“Yeah, I sure do.”

“After spending two thousand dollars of my money, I’m sure glad to know that.” He smirked, then laughed. “Let me tell you something. Your friend Adam? He was in a hell of a lot more trouble with me than you are. But I gave him a chance, he proved he could step up and take charge of his own destiny. He paid his way in no time. He’d never regretted working for me, and probably you won’t either.”

“Thanks,” Cose said. He was pretty sure Adam was far from being a friend. But if there was one thing he could say for Adam, the man was still alive, and he seemed to enjoy whatever he was doing.

“I don’t have much time, Cose. I need to tell you a few things, and they’re very important. First of all, the place I’m sending you? I won’t be there, and neither will any of my people. It’s a party for some guys who would never let you in the door if they knew it was me who sent you. And they won’t know. They’re gonna think you’re the entertainment they hired from their guy in Brooklyn. You don’t have to hide who you are. Tell them you’re the guy who used to play for the High Bridge Hound Dogs. Tell them all about the Dog Boys. Book another gig if you want to. It’s up to you. You’re just there for the gig. Easy enough, right?”

“Sure.” There was nothing sure about Cose’s voice as he said it.

“It’s no different than any other gig.” Kaplan drew another paper from the folder and put it in front of Cose. It was a drawing, a crude floor plan of a house. There were two long rectangles, one for the upstairs floor, one for the ground floor. Rooms were drawn in and labeled in black ink.

“This is the house you’re going to. There are two floors. I don’t know where they’re going to have you play. Probably downstairs. But up here…” He tapped on the second floor diagram. “Up here, there are four doors. On the right is the john, straight ahead from the stairs is the master bedroom. Getting in that room should be no problem. Last time this guy had a party, he used it as a coat room. My guy tells me the door was open all night. I just need you to make your way up there one time. Act like you’re going upstairs to use the can. Get into this room. I need you to do one thing, and it’s very simple, but it’s very important.”

Kaplan reached into his case and brought out an envelope. It was small and elegant, the sort that might contain an invitation to a nice dinner party. It was sealed with red wax.

“This envelope needs to make it to the master bedroom. It would be great if you could tape it to a mirror. But only if you know you won’t be caught. At the very least, lean it against the lamp on the nightstand if there is one. Put it somewhere that it will be found. Don’t let anyone see you put it there. If anyone does see you, you found it there. You did not bring it. You have no idea where it’s from or how it got there. And this is very important. You don’t give a shit about it. Your face has got to show that it’s exactly as unimportant to you as every other matchbook, hash pipe or used rubber that might be lying around. You got that?”

Cose nodded. His gut growled again, even louder than before. Kaplan smiled.

“And if that happens, you’re gonna be very conspicuous. Try to eat something before you get there, okay?” His smile was so friendly, Cose was able to smile as well. It didn’t change his dawning awareness that he was steeped in the shit now. His mind was swirling, trying to put that undeniable fact into some kind of perspective that would allow him to keep functioning.

“Once you’ve placed the envelope, your job is done. If you want to disappear, you can, though that might not be the best idea. You could go back downstairs and play a couple more songs, or maybe just hang out and see if you meet a cute girl you can take home. Do whatever you would do if you had not dropped off this very insignificant little envelope. Now I need to ask you, can you handle this job?”

“Yeah,” Cose said, but it sounded strained. “Yeah, that’s not too hard.”

“Not at all. Oh, and you see that seal? I’m sure I don’t have to tell you not to break it. What’s in here is of no concern to you. The less you know, the safer you are. And I want you to be safe.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“What’s in here is my business. You never need to know about it. Now, if you were stupid enough to try to look … well, let’s just say, I would know about it. My guys would know. And that would be a terrible breach of trust. You understand that?”

Kaplan put the envelope into a larger manila one, and wrapped the little red string around the paper hub. He placed the package into Cose’s hand. “It’s time for me to go. You’ll get a call from Ben Peller. He’ll tell you the time and place for the gig. This job pays off the interest. Any tips they throw at you, those are yours to keep. If you put them in a good mood, it might be pretty generous.”

Kaplan stood up, and went to the door. “It was a real pleasure talking to you, Cose.” Then he disappeared down the hall. A man wearing a tie-dyed Snoopy shirt and a black neck tie arrived almost immediately to see Cose back downstairs and to the street.

“Let’s go, Dog Boy. We’ve all got work to do.”