Shooting Dr. Jack

Troutman Street runs along the border of Brooklyn and Queens, in between neighborhoods, unwanted and unclaimed. For most people who do business there -- whether prostitues, drug dealers, or more legitimate entrepreneurs -- Troutman Street is the end of the line. But for Thomas Rosselli and his partner Stoney, it's just the location of another scam, the latest incarnation in a long series of endeavors that work the fringes of capitalism, the broad gray areas where the...
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Troutman Street runs along the border of Brooklyn and Queens, in between neighborhoods, unwanted and unclaimed. For most people who do business there -- whether prostitues, drug dealers, or more legitimate entrepreneurs -- Troutman Street is the end of the line. But for Thomas Rosselli and his partner Stoney, it's just the location of another scam, the latest incarnation in a long series of endeavors that work the fringes of capitalism, the broad gray areas where the rash and unwary are prey to sharp teeth and sticky fingers. The junkyard on Troutman Street is the perfect place to fly under the radar of the tax man, the cops, and even the drug dealers and wiseguys who'd want a piece of the action -- if they could figure out what it is.

Stoney thinks his biggest problem is the hangover he wakes up with every morning. He loves his wife and kids, but they're terrified of him. Even his cat hates him. Every time he gets behind the wheel of his car, he's rolling the dice; one more DWI and he'll do time for sure, and he can't afford that right now. His partner Tommy'd run the business right into the ground inside of six months -- or make them a fortune; no way to tell which.

Thomas Roselli, a.k.a. "Fat Tommy," a.k.a. "Tommy Bagadonuts," is a large man, of large appetites. He knows the best restaurants in New York and how much to tip the maître d' in each one. He knows who to call if he really, really wants you sleeping with the fishes in the bottom of the East River. If you met Tommy, you'd remember him, but he'd remember you, your phone number, your wife's name, and what his chances with her are. And Tommy has a soft spot for any stray that comes along.

Tuco is just such a stray. Now, thanks to Bagadonuts, he works in the junkyard on Troutman Street, and his life is about to go spinning into a new and more dangerous orbit. Unsure of himself, unskilled with women, and equally awkward with men, Tuco knows he'll learn more from these two in a year than he would in five years anywhere else, even if half of it he'd be better of not knowing. Tuco has a gift, one that will come in handy for Stoney and Tommy, maybe even save their lives, when people start dying on Troutman Street. But as he learns to use it -- and he struggles to walk the line between family, friends, and the law -- he almost forgets the first rule: Watch your back.

Written with the pulse of the city beating beneath its prose, Shooting Dr. Jack is compelling, powerful, and pitch-perfect, and Norman Green is an exciting new voice in contemporary fiction.