Request a coffee, feel an inner pull to ask for a whiskey. Carlos told me that somehow the payments came out odd. He didn’t understand where the money went. Alan had been doing the books for about a year. I knew it was him immediately---almost like recognizing the smell of bacon when it’s sizzling on the griddle. The SOB was embezzling to buy drugs, cocaine. He didn’t offer us a single line. Just took the damn money. I drained the remaining drop of coffee in my cup. It was thin pleasure. I won’t lie. I signaled to the bartender to let the booze flow. The barroom door swung open and I recognized Alan. Careful. C a r e f u l .
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