“You do thirty days, pay a thousand-dollar fine, and lose your license for three years.”
“WHAT?” Herbie yelled. “I’m not doing time for this, and I’m sure as hell not going to give up driving. I just bought a new car!”
“You’re lucky they’re not taking the new car,” Stone said. “When Giuliani was mayor, that’s what they did—first DUI, they towed it away.”
“Stone, Lance promised me . . .”
“Then talk to Lance about it.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Well, Lance is sort of hard to get hold of, you know? He always called me.”
“That’s tough, Herbie. You’ve fucked yourself, so you may as well lie back and enjoy it.”
Herbie was shaking his head vigorously. “I’ll go to trial,” he said. “I’ll get a better deal than that from a jury.”
“Are you insane?”
“I know how to talk to a jury,” Herbie said. “They’ll believe me.”
“So your idea of dealing with this is to perjure yourself?”
“Absolutely not. I’ll tell the truth.”
“You’ll tell a jury you were on your second DUI in a month, with a blood alcohol level of more than double the legal limit, and that you kicked a cop in the balls? Do you want to end up in Sing-Sing?”
Herbie was still shaking his head. “Lance said you’d make it go away.”
“What do you want me to do, bribe the judge?”
Herbie brightened. “How much would that cost?”
Stone dragged Herbie over to a bench and sat him down. “Now you listen to me,” he said. “You’ve behaved stupidly by driving drunk twice in a row. You’ve injured a young policeman who is the brother of the ADA prosecuting you, and the judge has a thing about DUIs. What do you think that adds up to?”
“Okay, I’ll do the fine and the license thing, but no jail time. I’m too pretty to go to jail. I’ll get raped the first day.”
“First of all, you’re not all that pretty. Second of all, you’re extraordinarily lucky to have to do only thirty days. The DA’s first offer was six months, and if you went to trial, you’d probably get a year. Can’t you understand that you’ve fucked up royally, and that now you’re going to have to take responsibility for your actions?”
Herbie brought himself up to his full five feet six. “I have no problem taking responsibility. I just won’t do time, that’s all.”
“Herbie, that’s how you take responsibility.”
“Stone, do you know how to get hold of Lance?”
“Lance can’t help you here, Herbie; only I can help you. You can help yourself by being a stand-up guy and taking your punishment.”
“I am a stand-up guy,” Herbie protested, his voice taking on a whine.
“Herbie, do you know who Lance is? Do you know who he works for?”
Herbie looked around furtively. “Well, I do have my suspicions. He’s mobbed up, isn’t he?”
“Worse than that, Herbie.”
“What’s worse than mobbed up? Russian mob?”