Megan—she was a stunner, the first woman I ever asked out on a date after my painful history of being the awkward nerd in high school.
I gave her my time and friendship. I even let her cry on my shoulder when she had no one else to turn to. She didn’t know I was in the next room listening to her talk to a girlfriend over the phone . . .
On Wednesday, November 5, LIVE from the NYPL will graciously host Akashic’s Tehran Noir/Tel Aviv Noir panel event from 7 to 9 p.m. in the New York Public Library’s Stephen A. Schwarzman Building. This discussion, moderated by best-selling novelist Rick Moody (The Ice Storm), features four contributing authors to these newest Noir Series titles and will explore their writing as it pertains to life both within these cities and outside of them. In honor of their housing our event, today Akashic spotlights the Live from the NYPL discussion and reading series.
Night must fall in the Tolerance Zone, the same way it does everywhere. Tonight it fell hard. I watched the shipping crate in the bed of the Escalade pickup parked behind the cantina, the crate filled with the ripe kumquats—three snuffed picture brides—that Yee Chung Toy had tried to smuggle from Fujian Province to Veracruz, and then across Mexico, through Ensenada, and into San Francisco . . .
Nancy took the job at the new liquor store to supplement her shitty government salary. The liquor store allowed her to work weekends and in the evenings after leaving her regular job—only a two-minute walk from one to the other. Every morning when she walked from her car to her office, she would see the same cast of characters posted up in front of the gray-and-beige county government building, which was situated only a few blocks from the homeless mission . . .