AUDIOBOOK
About
"Huston writes dialogue so combustible it could fuel a bus and characters crazy enough to take it on the road."-The New York Times Book Review
Reluctant hitman Henry Thompson has fallen on hard times. His grip on life is disintegrating, his pistol hand shaking, his body pinned to his living room couch by painkillers–and his boss, Russian mobster David Dolokhov, isn't happy about any of it. So Henry is surprised when he's handed a new assignment: keep tabs on a minor league baseball star named Miguel Arenas.
Henry has no pity for the slugger and the wicked gambling problem that got him in trouble, but he can't help liking the guy. After all, Henry used to be just like him: a natural-born ball player with a bright future. But hell, that was long ago. Before Henry did some guy a favor and ended up running for his life. Before his girlfriend and buddies got gunned down by someone on his tail. Before he agreed to buy his parents' safety with a life of violence.
And when Miguel gets drafted by the Mets and is sent to the Brooklyn Cyclones, Henry must head back to New York, back to the place where all his problems began-and where Henry might find a real reason to keep living, a reason that may just cost him his life.
Praise for A Dangerous Man
"Among the new voices in twenty-first-century crime fiction, Charlie Huston . . . is where it's at."-The Washington Post
"Huston reminds me of all my favorite writers–Pete Dexter, Robert Stone, Crumley. If there is such a thing as compassionate noir, Charlie has found it. He's a true marvel."-Ken Bruen, author of The Guards
"Charlie Huston is the real deal."-Peter Straub
"Huston writes dialogue so combustible it could fuel a bus and characters crazy enough to take it on the road."-The New York Times Book Review
"Among the new voices in twenty-first-century crime fiction, Charlie Huston . . . is where it's at."-The Washington Post
"Huston reminds me of all my favorite writers–Pete Dexter, Robert Stone, Crumley. If there is such a thing as compassionate noir, Charlie has found it. He's a true marvel."-Ken Bruen, author of The Guards
"Charlie Huston is the real deal."-Peter Straub Chapter 1
I find the guy in the Laughing Jackalope just like they said I would.
I take a seat at the bar, order a seltzer and ask for a roll of quarters. I let the seltzer sit and start slowly dribbling the quarters into the video poker game built into the surface of the bar. I stare at the cards as they blip across the screen. I play a quarter a hand, flying in the face of the most basic rule of video poker that says you always bet the max. Quarter bets pay a bare fraction of the max bets. Hit a big hand on a quarter bet and you're gonna feel like an asshole.
I hit a straight flush with a quarter once, paid 1,200 to 1. Sure enough, I felt like an asshole. Well that's happened before and it'll happen again.
The machine blips me a pair of jacks along with a nine, a ten, and a king. I pass on the even money the pair promises, throw one of the jacks and go for the inside straight. Deuce. I drop another quarter in the slot.
There's only a handful of people in here. The guy; the bartender; a couple sitting on stools, feeding nickels to one of the slots; an old-timer nodding a bit at the bar; and the evening cocktail waitress straightening the tables and getting things set for the crowd that will come in when the shifts change across the street.
I keep my face in the game, sneaking peeks at the guy, keeping my hand next to my face, hoping no one notices the palm-size patch of white scar tissue around my right eye. I'd just as soon no one remembers that scar if the cops come around later. But really, I only have to worry about that if a body turns up.
I'm on my third roll of quarters and little has changed. The c
Reluctant hitman Henry Thompson has fallen on hard times. His grip on life is disintegrating, his pistol hand shaking, his body pinned to his living room couch by painkillers–and his boss, Russian mobster David Dolokhov, isn't happy about any of it. So Henry is surprised when he's handed a new assignment: keep tabs on a minor league baseball star named Miguel Arenas.
Henry has no pity for the slugger and the wicked gambling problem that got him in trouble, but he can't help liking the guy. After all, Henry used to be just like him: a natural-born ball player with a bright future. But hell, that was long ago. Before Henry did some guy a favor and ended up running for his life. Before his girlfriend and buddies got gunned down by someone on his tail. Before he agreed to buy his parents' safety with a life of violence.
And when Miguel gets drafted by the Mets and is sent to the Brooklyn Cyclones, Henry must head back to New York, back to the place where all his problems began-and where Henry might find a real reason to keep living, a reason that may just cost him his life.
Praise for A Dangerous Man
"Among the new voices in twenty-first-century crime fiction, Charlie Huston . . . is where it's at."-The Washington Post
"Huston reminds me of all my favorite writers–Pete Dexter, Robert Stone, Crumley. If there is such a thing as compassionate noir, Charlie has found it. He's a true marvel."-Ken Bruen, author of The Guards
"Charlie Huston is the real deal."-Peter Straub
"Huston writes dialogue so combustible it could fuel a bus and characters crazy enough to take it on the road."-The New York Times Book Review
"Among the new voices in twenty-first-century crime fiction, Charlie Huston . . . is where it's at."-The Washington Post
"Huston reminds me of all my favorite writers–Pete Dexter, Robert Stone, Crumley. If there is such a thing as compassionate noir, Charlie has found it. He's a true marvel."-Ken Bruen, author of The Guards
"Charlie Huston is the real deal."-Peter Straub Chapter 1
I find the guy in the Laughing Jackalope just like they said I would.
I take a seat at the bar, order a seltzer and ask for a roll of quarters. I let the seltzer sit and start slowly dribbling the quarters into the video poker game built into the surface of the bar. I stare at the cards as they blip across the screen. I play a quarter a hand, flying in the face of the most basic rule of video poker that says you always bet the max. Quarter bets pay a bare fraction of the max bets. Hit a big hand on a quarter bet and you're gonna feel like an asshole.
I hit a straight flush with a quarter once, paid 1,200 to 1. Sure enough, I felt like an asshole. Well that's happened before and it'll happen again.
The machine blips me a pair of jacks along with a nine, a ten, and a king. I pass on the even money the pair promises, throw one of the jacks and go for the inside straight. Deuce. I drop another quarter in the slot.
There's only a handful of people in here. The guy; the bartender; a couple sitting on stools, feeding nickels to one of the slots; an old-timer nodding a bit at the bar; and the evening cocktail waitress straightening the tables and getting things set for the crowd that will come in when the shifts change across the street.
I keep my face in the game, sneaking peeks at the guy, keeping my hand next to my face, hoping no one notices the palm-size patch of white scar tissue around my right eye. I'd just as soon no one remembers that scar if the cops come around later. But really, I only have to worry about that if a body turns up.
I'm on my third roll of quarters and little has changed. The c
Related Subjects
Extended Details
- SeriesHenry Thompson #3