Jack/Joey.
He had parked the car at Shelly's and had a drink before hand, taking a stroll along the pier afterwards, eyes open for anyone with eyes open, before leaning against the railing that separated the boardwalk from the pebbled shore below.
"Hey yourself," Joe returned. The night was dark enough that he kept his voice low in case there were eavesdroppers lurking unseen in some not-so-distant shadow, but Joe was used to clandestine meetings with his cousin well enough not to to feel the prickling of anxiety along his skin. "You walk around already?" he asked; a precaution to speaking without the cover of other voices. Gone were the summer nights on the crowded pier; families packing up the last of picnic suppers, older kids tearing to and from the arcade, teenagers sneaking a kiss at dusk without adult supervision, adults pretending they were teenagers again. It made the two men look a bit more conspicuous, even if it seemed to offer a thicker blanket of privacy.