Marino skimmed the notebook on the table and fidgeted with his chair. The left front wheel squeaked like it was mouse-powered. “There’s a guy lives north of 128th looking for someone to crack a safe. Five k.”

“Pass.”

Squeak. “There’s a doctor in Brooklyn who—“

“Pass.”

Marino frowned. “You got something against Brooklyn?”

“Brooklyn’s fine. It’s just Bancroft’s territory.” If it was on Marino’s freelance list, Bancroft had already passed. Hanley didn't want to walk thin ice either way. 

“Freelance is a little thin lately. You ever consider Boston?”

“I don't speak the language.” Hanley signaled the waiter for a warmer. “Besides, New York is still my playground.”

“‘cept Brooklyn.”

“I also don't give a shiny fart about Staten Island.”

Indignant. “I was born on Staten Island.”

Hanley nodded. “Yeah. I know.” 

from “The Busted Zipper”