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all…”
    Nicholas smiled. At least Angie wasn’t a complete ball breaker. No history between them. And there was something about the way she was completely unfazed by his bullshit, not to mention all her goofy expletives, that disarmed him.
    “Angie, sugar, I’ve got a good lawyer, I’ve got a handle on this, and will get it all sorted out, so don’t worry.”
    “You coming to dinner Sunday? You’ve missed the last three weeks.”
    Nicholas sighed. He was of two minds about having a family. He’d spent almost two decades divorced from it. Out of touch. Angie had made a project out of bringing him into the fold. He liked her, mainly because she seemed to like him for some reason. But she was a tourist approaching his beach, his island.
    “Look, babe, our family isn’t exactly the Waltons.”
    Angie laughed. “I’ll bake an apple pie and put it on the windowsill if that’ll make Sunday dinner more appealing.”
    “You win, as usual.” Nicholas sighed again. Angie had his number and knew how to make him feel just a little like a jerk. “Anything to get off the phone and get back to business. I’ve got a lot to do.”
    “See you Sunday, then, at seven.” There was obvious satisfaction in her voice.
    “OK, Mom. Hey, has Garth been giving any thought to that insurance appraiser work?”
    “We’ll talk again Sunday,” she said guardedly. Nicholas was trying to do a good deed. But because of past frictions, Garth was leery of any venture coming from him. Before getting into insurance investigation Nicholas had been involved in his fair share of shady enterprises, including the one that had ruined their dad’s finances.
    “Hey, I know he’s suspicious, but believe me, Angie, this is completely legitimate. I’m just trying to throw some work his way.” Anything to put Garth off the disapproving big brother act.
    “OK, then, we’ll see you Sunday.” She obviously didn’t want to discuss it while Garth was standing there. “Good night, John Boy. And happy birthday.”
    “Super.” Nicholas disconnected the call, trying to suppress a smile. Garth and Angie’s concern was alternately annoying and mildly amusing. Why? Maybe he had yet to realize he liked it.

C h a p t e r                           4
      S am and Joey Pazzo had been drillers for six years, starting the very day they collected their high school diplomas and joined their pop at Hoboken Drilling, Inc. They worked skid and flatbed rigs for soil sampling. The Pazzo brothers were scrappy, reckless workers, and they always drilled as a team.
    Maimings are not particularly unusual for drillers. Either a truck outrigger chops off their toes, or a wrench slips from a brace and lops off a finger, or an overtaxed coupling shatters and pokes out an eye. The Pazzo brothers had suffered only the virtual loss of all fingernails, not from any accident, but from continuous manual labor without the protection of gloves. Bulbous yellow corns tipped their fingers like pads on the toes of a tree frog.
    After a day’s drilling, they’d smoke a joint or two on the way back to their wives and their two-family house. Sam lived upstairs, Joey down. Their kitchen windows afforded a sweeping view of the Helix, the long spiral ramp into the entrance of the Lincoln Tunnel. After a light dinner of pasta, meat, and iced tea, they’d gather their body armor and sticks and head for the hockey rink. Their team was called “HoBroken.”
    The outcome of a typical HoBroken game was never in doubt. Droplets of blood stood out brightly on the ice. Final score? The challenger, Metallica: five bloody noses, one chipped dental cap, one broken tooth, one overextended knee, an undetermined number of minor contusions, two black eyes, and one probable concussion. HoBroken: two bloody noses, one knocked-out tooth, an undetermined number of minor contusions, three black eyes, and two probable concussions.
    Sam and Joey suffered all the black eyes and bloody