“I know he’s my only brother, Lisa. Of course I miss him.”
“Angie said she hasn’t seen him in ages either. It’ll be good to bring him along.”
***
Vinny’s brother Joe emerged from the bathroom, shaved, showered, and groomed, his skin ruddy from the warmth of his prolonged stay in the steamy bathroom.
The house was all he had, an inheritance he and Vinny had somehow managed to hold onto despite Joe’s long bouts of unemployment and his devastating losses at the track. He was in arrears on the property taxes and owed money to everyone he knew. But that didn’t mean he had to look as if he were broke when he left the house. He’d pressed his shirt and slacks and shined his only pair of dressy shoes. He went straight from the bathroom to his upstairs bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. The clothes dryer had been broken over a year and his freshly laundered shorts and undershirts hung on a clothesline that extended from the window to a tall lamp pole in the backyard. He opened the window and felt the icy air sting his skin. He tugged on the line but it was caught. “Shit!” He tugged harder with no success, and again, and still again. He slammed the window shut and huffed before searching his dresser drawers for some clean undergarb but came up empty.
He went back to the window and searched for the spot where the laundry line was jammed. It was affixed to the tall pole, but the line was caught on a bough of the old dogwood tree. He studied the clothesline and figured he could free it with the use of the six-foot stepladder he stored against the wall in the laundry room. He raced downstairs and stepped into his snow boots while peering through the glass panel in the door at the limb he needed to reach. He unlocked the back door, grabbed the ladder, and raced out into the freezing cold.
He was quick to set the ladder in place and scrambled up the rungs, but even standing on the very top of the ladder, the clothesline was just beyond the reach of his outstretched hand.
***
Vinny and Lisa hurried up the steps to Joe’s front door and rang the bell while they shuffled in place to stay warm. A long moment elapsed before Vinny rang the bell again. “Son of a bitch. What did I tell you? He’s probably still in the bathroom making himself gorgeous.”
“So he takes pride in his appearance,” she said looking him over head-to-toe, her gaze settling on the leather jacket he wore like a second skin and the black cowboy boots she had fallen out of love with years before. “You know you could stand a little makeover yourself. You’re a big time attorney now. You should get a more professional wardrobe.”
“Lisa, I ain’t exactly a big time attorney yet. I only won one case.”
“So? You never heard no one say ‘dress for success,’ or ‘dress for the job you want—not the one you got?’ Vinny, you want to be successful, you got to dress successful. You gotta stop dressing like a chooch.”
“A chooch? I dress like a chooch?”
“Don’t get insulted.” She studied him again. “Maybe not that bad—maybe more like a cidrule than a chooch.”
He shook his head in disbelief, and jammed his hands into his pockets. “Lisa, you think that maybe we could discuss what kind of zhlub I most resemble some time later when I’m not freezing my balls off?”
She shrugged. “Maybe the doorbell is broken.” She tried the doorknob and walked in.
***
“Joe?” Vinny hollered. “Hey, Joe, you ready yet?” He slapped his sides in frustration. “I told you. Did I tell you or what? He ain’t never ever been on time for anything in his entire life. It’ll be rush hour by the time we hit the Verrazano. We’ll never get to the restaurant on time.”
“Easy, Vinny. Don’t get your shorts in a bunch. Maybe he’s on the can.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’ll go upstairs and look for him.”
“I’ll check in the basement.”
They parted ways, Vinny hurrying up the stairs while Lisa searched for Joe on her way past the laundry room to the staircase leading to the basement. Vinny came back downstairs a minute later. She was still in the laundry room, alone and staring out through the storm door. Vinny had just come up alongside of her. “Holy Christ!” she shouted. Joe was on the very top of a six-foot ladder, on tiptoes, reaching for the clothesline. But when he reached up on one leg to snare it, his bath towel dropped to the ground.
Lisa shrugged and cracked her gum. “Now there’s something you don’t see every day.” She pulled out her little pink camera and laughed as she clicked off a couple of winners. “This one’s going in the hall of fame collection along with your steak-face portrait.”
“I may have just been scarred for life. Stop taking pictures, would ya? Joe’s hairy ass is the last thing I ever want to see again.” Vinny turned up the collar on his jacket and hurried outside to give his brother a badly needed hand.
Chapter Eight: Staten-Fuckin’-Island
Lisa looked in the vanity mirror and reapplied her lipstick as Vinny piloted the Caddy along the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway toward Staten Island. She turned back and looked at Joe in the rear seat, who didn’t seem to be the least bit embarrassed about having been caught naked atop a ladder in his backyard. “So, Joe,” she snickered, “you planning on going on any more nature walks?”
“Piss off, Lisa. I was out of clean shorts. What was I supposed to do?”
“Maybe they should make it a national event. You know, like Groundhog Day.”
Joe gave her the finger.
“No, I’m serious. They can forecast the end of the winter by whether Joe sees his shriveling pecker or not.”
“Lisa, leave him alone,” Vinny said. “His clothes dryer is broke.”
“So maybe he should get the stupid thing fixed instead of scarring the minds of every innocent child in a ten-block radius. I know I’d need some therapy if I were the kid who saw that spectacle.”
“Lisa!” Vinny warned.
“Okay. Okay.”
“Look at that asshole,” Vinny said as a Benz cut him off without signaling, forcing him to jam on the brakes.
“He may be an asshole but he’s an asshole with money,” Lisa said. “That’s a CLS Class 6.3 liter Mercedes AMG.”
“Do you know what AMG means in English?” Joe asked. “It means you just got took because you paid the Germans three times too much for your car. Back in the day you could upgrade from a small V-8 to a big block for under a grand. Now they take you for an arm, a leg, and your left nut if you want a more powerful motor.”
Vinny slammed on the gas. “Fuck this guy. I’ll show him.” The engine revved loudly as Vinny took off in pursuit of the Benz that had zigzagged around him and was now growing smaller and smaller in the distance.
Lisa laughed. “Good luck catching that guy—a twelve-cylinder six-hundred-horsepower biturbo? He’ll blow your doors off, Vinny. You don’t stand a chance.”
“Yeah? Watch me,” Vinny said. “No one but no one out-drives a Gambini.” He floored the gas pedal and propelled the powerful old behemoth forward.
“Don’t do this,” Lisa said. “The car’s fifty-five years old. You’ll throw a rod. Trust me.”
“Catch that twerp,” Joe said. “Show him who the boss is, Vinny.”
“No! Don’t catch the twerp.” Lisa scowled at Joe and wiggled her pinkie. “Listen, Short Shaft, don’t egg him on.”
“Hey,” Joe protested. “It was cold out there.”
“Yeah, of course.” Lisa giggled. “Because you’re normally hung like a horse. Ain’t you ever heard about the theory of mass conservation?”
“The hell does that mean?”
“Mass can neither be created or destroyed. Are you trying to tell me that your penis defies the principle laws of science?”
Joe flipped her the bird once again and then rested his arms on the seatback. The old Caddy was rumbling down the road like a runaway freight train closing in on the Benz. He slapped Vinny on the shoulder. “Nail that son of a bitch!”
The Benz was doing eighty when Vinny pulled up alongside and
lowered his window. He leaned out and honked the horn but the Benz’s driver was on the phone and not paying attention. Vinny continued to lean on the horn, ultimately getting the driver’s attention. He flipped him off and yelled, “Fuck you, you road hog. Learn how to—”
The Benz took off like a shot, leaving Vinny in the dust, angry and frustrated. “Shit.”
“Slow down, Vinny,” Lisa said. “This car is older than dirt. It can’t take this kind of—”
The sound of a mechanical drumroll banged from under the hood. Vinny came off the gas but it was too late. The clatter slowed in time with the decelerating engine but never disappeared.
“Shit,” Lisa said. “What did I tell you, Vinny? You threw a rod—I hope the block ain’t cracked.”
“Yeah. Sorry.” He turned to Lisa. “No sweat. I can replace a set of push rods in my sleep.”
“Yeah. And I can do it in half that time but that’s if the engine block’s not damaged. If a pushrod broke or bent, who knows what could’ve gotten fucked up.”
Vinny shrugged. “It don’t sound too bad. Hey, Joe, that sound bad to you?”
“The hell do I know, Vinny? I’m tone deaf.”
Lisa crossed her arms and remained silent as they crossed over the Verrazano Bridge. She didn’t say another word until they were well into Staten Island, cruising down Hyland Boulevard. “Ah. Damn it.” She grimaced and clutched her stomach.
Vinny turned his head. “What’s wrong? You okay, Lisa?”
“No, I think I’m getting my friend.”
Joe furrowed his brow. “You’re getting your friend? What do you mean?”
Lisa glanced at Vinny and rolled her eyes.
“Joe, her friend. Don’t you know nothing? Her friend…You know. Little Red Riding Hood.”
Joe put his fingertips together and shook his hand. “Vinny, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Her friend. Her friend,” Vinny said. “You know. Scarlett Johansson.”
Joe grinned. “Marone. I’d like to tap that.”
“Yeah. I’m sure she’s pining away for you too, Joe.” She grimaced. “Vinny, pull over. I got to use the rest room right now.”
“Right here? We’re just a few minutes from the restaurant. You can’t wait until we—”
“Right now, Vinny!” she snapped and pointed to a catering hall just up the block. “The Great Kills Chateau. A place like that has got to have a clean restroom.”
Vinny cut the wheel and pulled into the circular drive. Lisa opened the door and bolted from the car with urgency.
Chapter Nine: Vinny to the Rescue
Joe glanced at his watch. “Jesus Christ, Vinny, she’s in the can like fifteen minutes. What the hell’s she doing in there?”
“She’s got her period, dimwit. You didn’t get that?”
“Oh. So that’s what all that Red Riding Hood horseshit was about?”
“That’s right, genius. Ain’t you never heard a woman refer to her period as her friend before?”
“Never.”
Vinny shook his head in disbelief.
“I’m going in there to get her. Angie will have a baby if we don’t get to the restaurant soon.”
Vinny laughed. “At her age? Trust me, Angie ain’t popping out another kid anytime soon.”
“I’m still going in to get her.”
“No you’re not.” Vinny checked his watch. “Yeah. Shit. It is getting pretty late. Stay here. I’ll get her.”
He jumped out of the car, hustled up the stone stairway and through the revolving doors into the reception hall. He looked around the opulent foyer, which was constructed with a tumbled marble floor and decorated with a massive ornate chandelier. “Lisa?”
The door to the ladies’ room swung open and Lisa hobbled out, bent over, still clutching her stomach.
“Lisa, you okay? What the hell is wrong? You look terrible.”
She took a few steps and sat down in a chair. “I’ll be all right. I just need a few minutes.”
“Are you sure? Maybe we should go home. You look awful.”
“No, I took something for the cramps. I just need a little time. Maybe a cold drink would help.”
Vinny spotted the maître d’ and flagged him down. “Yes?”
“My fiancée ain’t feeling so good. You think maybe she could have some cold water?”
“I’m so sorry to hear that.” He looked at Lisa with concern. “Of course. Right this way.”
“Stay here, Lisa. I’ll be right back. You’re not gonna pass out are you?”
“No, I’ll be okay. Just get me some water.” She pushed him away. “Hurry, okay?”
The maître d’ motioned for Vinny to follow him down a long corridor and through a set of double doors. He held the door open for Vinny to walk through.
Chapter Ten: Homecoming Is Such a Scene
“Surprise!”
Vinny clutched his chest and reeled backward as a thunderous greeting bombarded his ears and camera flashes dazzled his eyes. It took a moment for him to realize what was going on. The first face he recognized was Lisa’s, who’d somehow managed to enter the banquet room through another entrance and stood in front of him fully recovered, snapping pictures with her hot pink camera. She rushed to his side and planted a huge smooch on his cheek. “Are you surprised?”
“Am I surprised?” he gasped. “Are you fuckin’ kidding? I almost had a heart attack.” He glanced at the faces in front of him. “Holy shit. My cousin Billy. His friend Stan. Angie. Her dirtbag husband Victor. My late-as-shit brother Joe. Holy shit!” He smacked his cheek in disbelief. “Judge Molloy? Your mom and dad?” He grabbed Lisa, wrapped her up in his arms, and kissed her passionately.
“I did good, right?” she asked, glowing with pride.
“Yeah, you sure did. That’s a lot of people.”
“Billy and Stan wanted to show their appreciation for all you did for them. We invited everyone you know.”
“You’re fuckin’ kidding.”
“No, I’m fuckin’ not.”
He scolded her playfully, “So you really didn’t get your period, did you?”
“No. I didn’t. Are you fuckin’ mad?”
“No fuckin’ way!”
In the next instant Vinny was mobbed by his friends and family. Billy was the first to come forward throwing his arms around him. He kissed him on the cheek. “Fuckin’ Vinny Bag O’ Donuts. I fuckin’ love you.”
“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. I love you too but what’s with the language? You’re a college man. You can’t be running around swearing like some gavone from the back streets.”
“Vin, really?”
“Nah, I’m just fuckin’ with you. When’d you get back?”
“You kidding, Vin? Stan and I got the hell out of Alabama the second the trial was over. We crawled up I-95 so we didn’t run any speed traps and didn’t even stop for food or gas until we were north of the Mason-Dixon line.
“Not taking any chances, huh? That was smart…a notorious criminal like you.” He slapped him on the arm. “You okay with school? I mean not showing up on account you murdered a store clerk?”
“Yeah, Vin. Stan and I are enrolled for next semester. They felt bad for us because of the bullshit arrest and applied our tuition fees so that we didn’t lose any money.”
Angie approached with her arms open wide. Vinny looked her over and saw she was indeed wearing a cast on her foot. He glanced up at heaven with clasped palms. Thank God. “I’ll catch up with you in a little while. Okay, Billy?”
“Sure, Vin.” Billy hugged him again and moved off.
“Vincent! Lisa, you look gorgeous,” Angie said as they kissed hello. She gave her a light pat on the butt. “And look at that ass…Marone, Lisa, you’ve got an ass like a ten-year-old-boy. I used to have an ass like that. Now my butt looks like a bag of cannoli cream. You’re a lucky son of a bitch, Vinny. She’s a real beauty, your fiancée.”
Lisa blushed.
“Yeah, I think I’ll keep h
er,” he said with a laugh. “So. I kind of overheard you on the phone with Lisa and I’m guessing that you had something to do with setting up this here little shindig. Is that correct?”
“Billy and me couldn’t have done it without her,” Lisa said. “She put the whole thing together.”
“I cobbled it together the best I could,” Angie said.
Lisa looked impressed. “You’re one hell of a cobbler.”
“Yeah.” Angie cackled. “The caterer is an old friend of mine. I blew him so he’d give us a good price. He wanted a hundred bucks a head. So I said, ‘Fuck that! Give me a hundred bucks and I’ll give you some head.’” She patted the back of her head à la Mae West. “He was very appreciative—threw in the Viennese table for nothing.”
Vinny snorted and studied Angie’s foot. “That looks pretty painful. You get run over by a steamroller or something?”
“No, it was one of those Nazi trucks, the ones that look like the rolling gas chambers from World War II. I was out walking The Pope and was bent over cleaning up after him when this ghetto-looking Mercedes truck rolled right over my foot.”
“Ghetto-looking?” he asked.
“You know, the one’s they shrink-wrap in that dull-looking acrylic shit. It looked like something straight out of Mad Max Fury Road. I was screaming bloody murder and the no good arrogant son of a bitch starts yelling at me because I was in the street. The prick almost killed my Shih Tzu. I think we should sue this guy’s ass off. You want to take my case, Vinny?”
“I would love to take your case. I’d consider it an honor to ream this guy.”
“Great.” She winced. “I’m gonna sit down and rest my foot.” She spotted her husband. “Victor. Victor,” she hollered. “Make me a plate, you lazy son of a bitch. My fuckin’ foot is killing me.” She patted Vinny on the cheek. “Good job defending your cousin Billy. I heard those rednecks were ready to send the poor kid to the chair.” She began to limp away. “We’ll talk later. Have fun, you two.”
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