Lush Life Quotes
"It’s OK," Marcus said, then, putting his arm around his ex-wife, began to walk her out of there, both looking decades older than they were.
"Actually," Matty murmured, turning him by his shoulders and cuffing him so that his curled hands rested on the small of his back.
"May I?" Matty said, then carefully parted just enough of one curtain to not disrespect the desire for dark.
"In court?" Marcus sounded like he was talking in his sleep.
"I go there, to see Isaac, and they say no. They say the father has been and we don’t show twice."
"How was I supposed to know?" Marcus said without heat.
"He’s been!" She caught him on the cheek with a nail, a line in the flesh there blooming from blanched to pink to dripping like a fast-forwarded film.
"Elena, I told you, all they show is a photo," Marcus pleaded. "You wouldn’t have—"
"Don’t you say to me wouldn’t! You don’t say to me anything!"
"She said we should make another one right away," plucking at the synthetic fur. Then after a moment’s hesitation, "That’s crazy, right?"
"You ever see the kids that go there? I mean, Jesus, we need protection from them."
"You cannot be serious," Steele said. "Why would he do something like that?"
"Loyal? I’m not sure what you’re looking for."
"How about that kid I was telling you about, the cafeteria cashier from NYU, spiked his Hawaiian Punch dispenser with vodka, had a tray line around the block."
"You ever tell yourself you can fly?" Yolonda asked.
"I wasn’t faking, ask anybody here, but sometimes, when I’m good and rocked? I get into this zone where I can tell myself I’m physically more this, or more that, than I really am, and . . . it becomes true."
"Your friend Ike?" Yolonda said brightly. "He’s dead."
"We have a guy in the Tombs right now pretty much based on what you told us," Flaherty said, then leaning forward, lowered his voice. "It’s not criminal to be mistaken, Randal. Sometimes we confuse the words see and hear, especially when something goes down so fast and unexpected."
"Just out of curiosity," his own voice growing hoarse now, "what exactly were you two fighting about?"
"I swear to God"—Steele glared out the window—"I wish they’d all put their shit on the market, take the money, and move to Woodstock."
"It’s like he’s waiting for his son to come back, right?"
"Poor guy," Yolonda said. "I just hope he’s not going to wind up being a giant pain in the ass on this, you know?"
"You don’t think we won’t go to the media with this? How’s he ever going to show his face?"
"You interrogate him for eight hours, throw him in the Tombs groundless, and now you’re what . . . threatening to publicly humiliate him?"
"Cut the crap. From your heart, what’s the right thing here."
"Fuck yourself, you commie rat bastard," Matty said absently.
"Your memories feel like knives and I would gladly burn them out of—"
"I would watch the two of them play one-on-one sometimes."
"He would have liked you. Ikey. I know it. And you would have liked him."
"What am I supposed to tell myself, it was his time?"
"You know who had the worst day of all? My son."
"You take it and I'll see you when I see you."
"He’s a drug dealer. He’s not gonna go robbin’ anybody."
"You ain’t afraid to show who you are. Most niggers ’round here got a scar like that, never leave the house."
"I’m so much better than anything I’ve ever done."
"I need to tell you something." His eyes were as red as if he’d been at a fire."
"You’re a good guy, OK?" pulling back out into traffic."
"Everybody starts closing doors on each other, and I promise you, I will stake my pension on it, someone else is not gonna make it."