Ask the Dice by Ed Lynskey

a heat grate with the sewer rats."
    "Passably so, I reckon. The door pulled to keeps out the stiff wind and riffraff."
    "What did you do in your previous life?"
    "Oh…this and that." Big Jamal spat from the boxcar. "My last nine-to-five was a half-baked database administrator. Some fast talking landed me that sweet gig. Then the afternoon three days before Christmas my prick of a manager saunters up, juts his fat jaw, and says he's forced to lay me off. So I told the dildo to go fry his balls, and I split. But that's enough pedigree on me. What's your line, Tommy Mack?"
    "That ties back to why I'm holed up in the switchyard."
    "Uh-huh. Well, this spot is claimed."
    "I hear you fine. I'm also curious. You got a hootchie mama waiting back yon?" I asked, trying to draw a tableau of just how the pint-sized guy was able to climb a leggy mountain.
    "Just me and the shadows are here."
    "Do you sling your dope back here?"
    "No dope, sir. Why?"
    "Using an orphaned boxcar is a slick setup. Who explores the switchyard? The final locomotives steamed up ages ago. There's acres of flat, open terrain to monitor who's coming and going, and your clients know where to find you."
    "Uh-huh. What makes you so street savvy, Tommy Mack?"
    "Like you, I've been around some. I wish I had something to pay or trade you for that Glock. It'd come in awful useful."
    "It ain't for sale, trade, or donation. I can sleep like a baby knowing it's in quick reach."
    "Speaking of which, any heartburn if I park over there by the entrance?"
    "As long as you're a memory by sunup, no sir."
    "Some rack time is all I want."
    "Sweet dreams, Tommy Mack."
    As Big Jamal clattered shut the side door to button up his private boxcar, I trooped back to the coupé to bed down, but without capturing any of the sweet dreams that he'd wished on me.

Chapter 12
     
    D awn gave visibility to the old switchyard, the grittiest spot where I'd ever slept, and I'd bunked in some real armpits. No coyotes barked as I ranged out of the coupé and flogged my log by the tailpipe. An entire night had gone by with no hot lead flying at me. Extending that streak shaped up as today's goal. At a short glance, I saw the old boxcar across the maze of rusty tracks still had its side door closed. Big Jamal had opted to sleep in this morning, and I suspected he did that more often than not.
    I kindled the coupé's engine and headed off. A chipper lady DJ reported the motorists in SUVs and hybrids were gridlocked on I-66, I-95, I-395, and I-495. She said many of the commuters spent up to 62 hours a year languishing in traffic. Even so, I bet they didn't play hide-and-seek with a sociopathic crime boss like I did, and that was saying a lot for them.
    I pit-stopped at a cut-rate gas station and barricaded myself in the Men's room. A disposable razor and a thin lather rubbed up from the hand soap bar served my shaving needs. Taking a hobo’s bath tempted me, but I didn't press my luck, so I rinsed and dried. My mental roster of public phone locations arose. So many of them had gone the way of the 8-track tape, the rest soon to follow. A curmudgeon Korean grocer had preserved the phone kiosk found just outside his shop door. After being left 50¢ poorer, I cringed at each ring jangling in my ear as if an electrical current charged up my arm.
    "Yeah?" Mr. Ogg's rough greeting doubled the voltage shocking me.
    "Tommy Mack here."
    "Well…damn…where are you, kid?"
    "If I play it smart, where you can't ever reach me."
    "What the hell are you talking about?"
    "You masterminded the frame job on me for Gwen's murder."
    "Come again?"
    "It's simple. I ain't your whipping boy."
    "Come on, of course I'm PO'ed, but I realize you're not her killer."
    "No blackmailer ever hassled Gwen. The information on it you gave me is a sham."
    "I must've given you the wrong envelope."
    "You angled to put me at her townhouse."
    "Quit yelling at me. Christ. Now, was she already dead when you arrived?"
    "That's my story."
    "Okay, I