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had never dropped in the first place.
    During the four years before Blaze took his second fall, this con was the one they fell back on, and it never failed. They never had a bit of trouble from the heat, either. Although not bright, Blaze was a fine actor. George was only the second real friend he had ever had, and it was only necessary to pretend that the mark was trying to persuade George that Blaze was no good. That Blaze was a waste of George’s time and talents. That Blaze, in addition to being a dummy, was a busher and a fuck-up. Once Blaze had convinced himself of these things, his rage became genuine. If George had stood aside, Blaze would have broken both of the mark’s arms. Maybe killed him.

    Now, turning the Polaroid snap over and over in his fingers, Blaze felt empty. He felt like when he looked up in the sky and saw the stars, or a bird on a telephone wire or chimbly with its feathers blowing. George was gone and he was still stupid. He was in a fix and there was no way out.
    Unless maybe he could show George he was at least smart enough to get this thing rolling. Unless he could show George he didn’t mean to get caught. Which meant what?
    Which meant diapers. Diapers and what else? Jesus, what else?
    He fell into a doze of thought. He thought all that morning, which passed with snow whooping in its throat.

Chapter 7
    H E WAS AS OUT OF PLACE in the Baby Shoppe of Hager’s Mammoth Department Store as a boulder in a living room. He was wearing his jeans and his workboots with the rawhide laces, a flannel shirt, and a black leather belt with the buckle cinched on the left side—the good-luck side. He had remembered his hat this time, the one with the earflaps, and he carried it in one hand. He was standing in the middle of a mostly pink room that was filled with light. He looked left and there were changing-tables. He looked right and there were carriages. He felt like he’d landed on Planet Baby.
    There were many women here. Some had big bellies and some had small babies. Many of the babies were crying and all of the women looked at Blaze cautiously, as if he might go berserk at any moment and begin laying waste to Planet Baby, sending torn cushions and ripped teddy bears flying. A saleslady approached. Blaze was thankful. He had been afraid to speak to anyone. He knew when people were afraid, and he knew where he didn’t belong. He was dumb, but not that dumb.
    The saleslady asked if he needed help. Blaze said he did. He had been unable to think of everything he needed no matter how hard he tried, and so resorted to the only form of subterfuge with which he was familiar: the con.
    â€œI been out of state,” he said, and bared his teeth at the saleslady in a grin that would have frightened a cougar. The saleslady smiled back bravely. The top of her head almost reached the midpoint of his ribcage. “I just found out my sister-in-law had a kid…a baby…while I was gone, see, and I want to outfit him. The whole works.”
    She lit up. “I see. How generous of you. How sweet. What would you like in particular?”
    â€œI don’t know. I don’t know nothing…anything…about babies.”
    â€œHow old is your nephew?”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œYour sister-in-law’s child?”
    â€œOh! Gotcha! Six months.”
    â€œIsn’t that dear.” She twinkled professionally. “What’s his name?”
    Blaze was stumped for a moment. Then he blurted, “George.”
    â€œLovely name! From the Greek. It means, ‘to work the earth.’”
    â€œYeah? That’s pretty far out.”
    She kept smiling. “Isn’t it. Well, what does she have for him now?”
    Blaze was ready for this one. “None of the stuff they got now is too good, that’s the thing. They’re really strapped for cash.”
    â€œI see. So you want to…start from the ground up, as it were.”
    â€œYeah, you