It was the empty part of the afternoon when Harry got in McPherson's car. The Marshall pulled into traffic and Harry didn't say anything, just let him drive. McPherson got on the 101 and eventually they ended up in North Hollywood. They stopped at a no-name place and went inside. "Let me buy you something," Don said. "Beer's fine," Harry said. At this time of the day, the place was empty. A delivery guy was bringing in cases and every time the front door opened it was a strobe of daylight. "This your hang-out?" Harry asked. "No," Don said. "I picked it at random. Nobody knows either of us here." The beer was good. Looking across the table at Don, Harry could have been looking in a mirror. Don was big and anything but Japanese, but there was that tired cop look, that sense of having spent way too long with the worst of humanity. "Do you ever have the feeling, when you wake up in the morning, that everything has just gone south?" Harry asked. Don looked back him. "Yeah. Yeah, all the time." ESPN was on, talking about the standings. "Chargers are home for Pittsburgh next, right?" Don asked. "Yeah." "Now there's an occupation," Don said. "Your whole career is over by thirty-two, thirty-three. Then you live the rest of your life in your own shadow." "I ain't crying for them," Harry said. " Most of us are pretty much downhill by thirty-five. But if a player can be great once, even for just a moment... One game-winning shot, one championship, one stop with everything on the line: he's done a fine thing and nobody can take that away from him," Harry said. "Plus there's the money." "Yeah," Don said. "There is that." "Pete Rose," Harry said. "Charlie Hustle," Don said. "They can say he was dirty. They can keep him out of the Hall of Fame. But..." "Four thousand hits," Don said. "And a side of fries," Harry said, nodding. He drank his beer. "They can't claim he wasn't great." They drank companionably. Talked a little about why they'd become cops. About their divorces. A few beers in, Harry said, "I've got some decent scotch at my place." "I should have known you were a scotch man," Don said. Following Harry up the stairs, Don said, "We should have done this a long time ago." Harry laughed. He fumbled at the door for a moment, fingers a little beer-numb. "Do you see your kids?" "I'm supposed to, every other weekend," Don said. "But they say visiting me is boring." "Yeah," Harry said. "They want you to be a Disney dad." He turned and saw Don looking at his place. He looked around. Everything said divorced guy. The plaid couch and nicked up end table that came with the place. No pictures on the wall. Everything said, 'I don't give a rat's ass.' Don was looking at it with something like despair. "What?" Harry said.
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