“Who’s that?” I asked, on my guard.
“Just you’re friendly landlord,” said the form of Tony as he slid onto the counter.
“My brain just won’t turn off,” I said, chomping down on my first cookie. “I’ve had a lot on my mind recently…”
“Yeah, Cricket’s told me about this mess.”
My curiosity got the better of me. “How do you know Cricket?”
“Oh, I met him in, how you say?, grade school. I’d just moved to the City with my huge family. No English we spoke, none at all.
“Cricket just had this thing that made a kid like him, no matter who he was, where he was from. Still does. By the time we hit high school, we had a crowd of ten, fifteen guys with us. None of us originally spoke English, so he taught us. We taught him our respective language, so he became pretty fluent. Helped get him his high NYPD job, I’d say,” he finished proudly.
I nodded. I found myself echo Cricket when I said, “That explains a lot.”