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that good . . .”
    You don’t even need to try
, the old line was. Ghetto wisdom. I didn’t have to finish the thought because Shine knew just what I meant, and he knew that I knew that he knew. Social codes like this are how people signal their allegiances, and I had learned them well during my long immersion in Chicago’s drug culture.
    â€œHe’s good with people,” Shine continued, speaking with respect. “Knows how to get them moving. Nigger practically turned around his neighborhood, that’s what I heard.”
    By this, Shine meant that Michael had taken such effective dictatorial control of his drug block that he’d made it both safe (which made his neighbors cooperative) and extremely profitable, all while staying out of jail. In response, I tried to stay positive without endorsing his crimes.
    â€œYeah, he’s successful—and his kid, Jackie, she’s going to take over the world. She’s five. What an amazing little kid.”
    Trying to fill in the silence between small talk, I added, “New York’s not as friendly as Chicago.”
    Shine looked skeptical. “You like friendly people?”
    â€œSure. Of course. Who doesn’t?”
    â€œThis ain’t Chicago, my brother,” Shine said. “You can’t get far with friendly out here.”
    But then he frowned and looked at me more closely, pondering the mystery of my character for a long, silent moment. Finally, he came to a conclusion. He nodded and lifted his glass to take a gulp of ice. “I can see how you got along with niggers,” he said. “Youdon’t seem all that scary, so they can’t see you coming. That’s how you get ’em to tell you all our secrets, ain’t it?”
    The way he said it, laughing and crunching the ice between his teeth, it came out like the sly compliment of one hustler to another. I couldn’t help feeling a momentary pleasure.
    â€œSo what next? What’s your plan?” Shine said. “You want to move into the projects here?”
    This had been on my mind since the day I’d arrived in the city, of course.
What next? What should I study?
The thing I’d noticed right away was the same thing everybody notices, the special energy of the place. Chicago’s beauty was wrapped up in its Midwestern sameness, the predictable rhythms of its people, the solid embrace of caste and clan. In contrast, New York seemed like chaos barely held together. I wanted to do something that tapped into that somehow. Even if I could put all the office politics aside, another study of crack gangs trapped in the projects didn’t seem the most promising pursuit.
    â€œSo this will be the last time I see you,” Shine said.
    â€œMaybe,” I answered.
    We stayed very solemn for a moment, then cracked up laughing. Relaxing another notch, we drifted into a conversation about Michael and the other Chicago characters we had in common, which became the story of how I’d wandered into the projects one day and got taken hostage by Michael’s gang. “Next thing I know, I’m moving in—and seven years go flying by.”
    Shine kept his head down, a diamond glittering in his ear. “Michael said you were writing a book,” he said.
    In my experience, there was one good way to explain an enterprise like mine to someone like Shine. “Everybody’s got to hustle,” I said.
    Shine nodded solemnly at the tabletop. “Everyone hustles,” he agreed. “Especially around here.”
    So we understood each other. We were good. I went back to my current obsession. “The city seems too big, too hard to get my hands around. I’m not sure where to start. I’m not sure where to hang out. How do I even know where the significant locations are going to be?”
    Shine was about to get up to refresh his drink, but the bartender made a motion to stay put; he would bring a drink