“Just a sec.” Terry feigned a groan and jumped up.
The two boys looked down at Carrie. She smiled in the gloom.
“She’s nuts,” said Jacob. “Let’s beat it.”
They ran off down the alley, and the old drunk staggered up to see what all the noise was about. He shuffled over to the garbage can she lay next to.
“Hiya,” she mumbled, holding up her arms as if to embrace him. “Want lil’ ole Carrie give ya a real wild time?”
The drunk could not believe his luck. He placed his bottle carefully on the ground and struggled out of his filthy pants.
Carrie welcomed him as he bent over. “Hiya, big boy—did I ’member ta tell ya… you is beaut…i…ful?”
The noise hit Carrie first. Early morning noises: children shouting, milk bottles clinking, dogs barking.
Then the discomfort of lying on the ground with her foot throbbing and body shivering.
She opened her eyes and for one long moment thought she must be dreaming. She was lying in an alley—stark naked—and it was morning. She sat up in a panic. Where was Whitejack? Dolly? Lucille? How had she gotten here? What was happening?
She hunched up, bringing her knees to her chest to cover her nakedness, and shrunk back against the wall. Her head hurt. Her throat was dry. Tears filled her eyes.
What was she doing here? She blinked hard to stop the tears. Think, Carrie. Think.
Vaguely she remembered a party. It was all a blur, really. Whitejack gave her a shot of magic and she went on and did her stuff.
Frantically she stood up, pressing her back to the wall. It was then she realized she was in the alley outside her window.
A noise came from nearby, a human sound. It was an old drunk, sprawled on his back alongside the neighboring garbage can. He was a pitiful sight. She shuddered.
“Aarrgh….” He turned in his sleep, and the bottle he was clutching slid out of his arms and smashed on the ground.
She jumped. Her foot hurt as soon as it took her weight, but she had her bearings, now, and limped quickly over to the fire escape and climbed up it. Fortunately her window was open.
She threw herself into the room and only then allowed herself to break down in a paroxysm of sobbing. She was truly scared. It was getting so she didn’t know herself any more. Drugs were killing her mind. They were killing her.
Without bothering to cover herself, she stormed into Dolly’s room.
They were asleep, the big white blonde and the tall black man. Her man. But he spent every night with Dolly now.
“Wake up, you two!” she screamed. “You hear me? Wake up!”
“Shee… it, woman,” Whitejack mumbled, opening his eyes slowly. “Shee… it.”
“What in hell’s goin’ on here?” muttered Dolly, turning in the bed like a beached white whale.
“I was asleep in the street!” shrieked Carrie. “The goddamn street!”
“What you talkin’ ’bout, woman?” grumbled Whitejack. “You taken leave your senses?”
“Get her out of here,” complained Dolly.
Lucille came running into the room. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“Who knows,” he snarled. “She gone plain mad.”
“I gone plain nothin’!” yelled Carrie. “You feedin’ me drugs day an’ night till I don’t know where I am any more. I was out on the street, naked. You hear me? Naked—naked—naked!” Her voice rose until it was one long wailing scream.
Whitejack climbed out of the bed and took her in his arms. He held her tightly. “You was dreamin’,” he said calmly. “Nuthin’ wrong with that. Just dreamin’, that’s all.”
“Was I?” Suddenly she was confused.
“Sure,” he soothed. “Now you just c’mon along with the man, an’ I’ll fix you up with somethin’ take all the bad dreams away.” He led her from the room.
Dolly turned over and went back to sleep.
Lucille shook her head. She had seen bad times come and bad times go, and she knew that Carrie was headed for one big bad time.
And there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.
Gino
1928
Cindy woke first. She propped herself up on one elbow and regarded the sleeping Gino. He lay on his stomach, his face in profile. Asleep, he looked quite young. Of course, he was young—but somehow when those hard black eyes were in action he didn’t seem young. Cindy had made up her mind long ago that she was going to share his bed, and hey, presto!—here she was.
She shivered with excitement. What a lover he had turned out to be. Of course anyone would seem fascinating after Pinky Banana. But her sexual experience was not limited to Pinky. There had been three others—and they were all the same. Gino had a touch she had never known before. He felt her as though he was her. He knew exactly where to go with his prick or his tongue….
Again she shivered and thought about waking him up. He looked so peaceful, though…. It would be a shame to disturb him.
She had not expected to gain access to his bed so easily. Everyone knew he was planning to get married to some girl in San Francisco. Everyone knew he was religiously faithful. Not so any more….
She stared at his sleeping face and wondered what he was going to do about her when he woke up. Was he going to give her some money and stick her on a train to California? She certainly hoped not. She had no. desire to go. But how could she possibly expect him to keep her?
Gently she put her finger to one of her perfect small breasts and played with the nipple until it stiffened and stood out erect. Then she did the same to the other one.
She was hot and wet just thinking about Gino lying beside her. Quietly she leaned over and slid her breasts up and down his bare back. He stirred in his sleep but did not wake.
She continued to rub her breasts against him. He turned over, and his penis was standing up and ready even though his eyes were still closed.
She climbed astride him, maneuvered him inside her, and rode him hard and fast until her cheeks were glowing red and her breath was no more than short gasps. Then she came in one glorious flash.
He didn’t open his eyes, and his erection didn’t subside.
She rolled off him and started to laugh. “Gino? You can’t possibly have slept through that!”
He lay perfectly still.
She leaned over and sucked him to a monumental orgasm. And only then did he open his eyes, rumple her hair, and say, “Mornin’.”
“I thought you’d never wake up,” she said brightly.
“I was awake all the time.”
She grinned. “Well, let’s say part of you was!”
“Y’like that part?”
“Oh, yes!”
He leaped out of bed and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“The crapper—it’s down the hall. Don’t go away.”
As if she would. She got up from the bed and inspected her face in a cracked mirror on top of the old chest of drawers.
In the can Gino considered the situation. He had to admit he felt good. He had not expected to feel good for weeks, months, years. He was sick to his stomach about Leonora, but no more being the faithful sucker—that kind of action was for the birds.
Starting today he planned to get on with his life. He had plenty of dough stashed away and a decent apartment. No more saving. For what?
When he got back to the room, Cindy was sitting up in bed. “I’m hungry.” She pouted. “Got anything a girl can eat?”
Gino dressed on one side of the room, Cindy on the other. Not a word had been spoken about what would happen next.
Cindy bit her lip nervously. She didn’t want to be packed off to California. She wanted to stay. They had made love again. There was no stopping him; he was like a raging Ram. No wonder he had that nickname. But after the lovemaking there was no real talk, just playful banter, until he had glanced at his watch and exclaimed, “Jeeze! I gotta get outa here.” Then they had both proceeded to dress.
/>
Cindy pulled on silk stockings and secured them with cheap pink garters. She glanced over at Gino. He was pulling on his pants.
He caught her looking and winked. How the heck was she gonna go out in the street dressed like that? She was wriggling into her dress of the previous evening: pink satin with a low plunge. “Hey,” he said. “You gonna travel in that?”
She gestured helplessly. “I couldn’t’ve taken any of my clothes. If Pinky had even suspected I was going…” Her voice started to quiver. “Oh, Gino. WhatamIgonnado?” Her words stuck together in a lump, and they both stopped dressing to consider the problem.
“I thought you wanted t’get on a train. Y’know, get away fast.”
She lowered her eyes. “That was before last night.”
He hunched his shoulders. “Yeh?”
“That’s right,” she murmured softly. “Now I don’t want to go anywhere. I want to stay here with you.”
“Hey, listen—” he began.
“No, you listen,” she interrupted. “I know what your deal is—you’re gettin’ married soon. I’d just like to stay with you for a couple of weeks. Nothing serious. Just fun. Then I’d go—get on the train without a backward glance. What d’y’say, Gino?”
He didn’t know what to say. The idea didn’t bother him. Two weeks of Cindy and her juicy body was no big hardship. He just wished that she’d never belonged to Pinky Banana.
“Jeeze.” He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “I don’t know….”
“Your girl friend would never find out,” she continued quickly. “We could keep it a big secret. Haven’t you got an apartment downtown?”
“How’d y’know about that?”
“Word gets around.”
Yeh. He hadn’t exactly kept it quiet.
“If we went there,” Cindy said excitedly, “nobody would know about us. It’s a whole new neighborhood. Even Pinky wouldn’t know.”
She had something there. He nodded. What the hell… a couple of weeks…. What could he lose? “Tell y’what, kid, you stay here while I go take care of business. When I get back we’ll jump a cab over to the apartment an’ check it out.”
“Oh, Gino!” She flung her arms around his neck. “That’s wonderful!”
“Hey!” He disengaged her arms. “Like only for a coupla weeks, right?”
She widened her big blue eyes. “Of course. You’ll have me out of there anytime you say.”
“As long as we understand each other.”
“We do, don’t we?” She moved close and nibbled on his ear. “We understand each other pretty good.” Her hand reached for his fly and started unbuttoning.
“Hey!” He slapped her hand away laughingly. “I got business to attend to.” He looked in the mirror and shook his black curly hair vigorously before plastering a handful of grease on it. Then he was off, with a jaunty “See ya, kid.”
She ran to the window and watched him walk down the street.
Gino Santangelo, you weren’t that difficult to get. Two weeks. Ha! As long as little Cindy wants to stay, you mean.
Aldo chewed on a piece of garlic, one of his less endearing habits. “We can’t just tell him we want him out,” he insisted. “You know Pinky, he’ll go apeshit.”
Gino sat on the hood of the old Ford. “Fuck ’im.” He spat. “I don’t care what he does.”
Aldo paced the lockup garage, a worried frown creasing his forehead. “He’s bin with us from the beginning—”
“Bullshit. We brought him in to ride shotgun on the trips to Canada. You an’ I were together long before that.”
“Yeah, I know, but I guess he kinda figures he’s a partner.”
“Jeeze!” Gino snorted with disgust. “You wanna keep him? Is that what you’re tryin’ ta tell me?”
“Naw, I just—”
“…don’t want trouble.” Gino finished the sentence for him.
Aldo shrugged. “You tell Pinky he’s not with us, you got trouble.”
“Look, he ain’t my partner. He ain’t yours. We pay him. We hire him. An’ now’ we’re gonna fire him. Understand?”
“I guess you’re right.”
“You can bet I’m right. Pinky’s gotten sloppy. He runs with garbage and he’s got a big mouth. I don’t wanna find myself back in the can ’cause of him.”
Aldo agreed. “You’ll tell him?”
“Goddamn right I will.”
Pinky Banana arrived an hour later. He looked as though he had just fallen out of some whore’s bed, and in point of fact he had. He was wearing the same suit he’d had on the night before, and it stunk of cheap perfume. He swaggered into the garage an hour late for the meeting. Without so much as a good morning, he growled, “What’s the job? Just give me the time an’ place an’ let me go home an’ get some friggin’ sleep. Had some real hot cunt humpin’ me all night. I’m beat.”
Aldo twitched nervously.
Gino was calm. Slowly he said, “Nothin’ personal, Pinky, but we bin talkin’, an it just ain’t gonna work out with us any more.”
Pinky Banana narrowed bloodshot eyes. “What ain’t gonna work out?”
Gino gestured around the garage. “The whole setup.”
“What the frig ya talkin’ ’bout?”
“I want you out,” Gino said evenly.
Pinky could not believe what he was hearing. “The fuck ya do!” he screamed.
“Yeh. The fuck I do.” Suddenly they were confronting each other, face to face. And Gino was poking Pinky in the stomach with his finger and saying, “I bin watchin’ y’change. I don’t wanna have my freedom rest in your loud mouth.”
“Oh, I getcha,” yelled Pinky, slapping Gino’s finger away. “Ya got a cushy set up with Bonnatti so ya wanna dump me.”
Gino’s eyes were hard and bleak. “Whatever you wanna make of it.”
“Ya soft prick! Ya dump me an’ you’ll be so friggin’ sorry ya won’t know what’s hit ya. The Santangelo gang. What a friggin’ laugh! Without me yer nothin’. They’ll be knockin’ off your loads like squeezin’ milk from tit.”
Gino turned away. “Get lost.”
“Don’t ya friggin’ tell me t’get lost.”
Pinky was four inches taller and twenty-five pounds heavier, but as he swung a punch he got more than he bargained for. Gino was quick on his feet and had turned and blocked the punch before it was even halfway on its journey. He countered with a strong right of his own that caught Pinky square on the nose. There was a squelching sound and a sudden spurt of blood.
Pinky’s hands rushed to his face. “Ya fucker!” he shrieked. “You’ve broke my friggin’ nose!” Blood seeped between his fingers and dripped onto the garage floor.
“That’s for Cindy,” Gino growled. “She wanted to send you her regards.”
Pinky wasn’t even listening. He was heading for the door. “Ya got it comin’,” he mumbled, trying to stem the flow of blood with his handkerchief, “an’ I’m gonna see ya get it.”
“I’m shakin’ in my shoes.”
“You’d better, mothafucka—you’d better!” screamed Pinky. And then he was gone.
“Y’see,” Gino announced triumphantly, “I told you he’d take it O.K.”
Aldo was visibly shaken. “Why’d ya have to hit him?”
Gino stared long and hard. “You want out?” he questioned.
Aldo shrugged. “I guess I ain’t that nervous.” He shuffled his feet uneasily. “What was the crack ’bout Cindy?”
“She left him, only I don’t think he knows it yet.”
“Where’s she gone?”
Gino looked blank. “California, I think. Hey, we’d better call Enzio.”
“Yeah,” Aldo agreed, and then added, “You heard from Leonora yet?”
“Nope.” Gino put his arm around his friend’s shoulder. “Y’know somethin’? The longer she don’t reply, the longer I got second thoughts. Marriage… shit. I mean, I hardly know the girl.”
Aldo stared in amazement. �
��I don’t believe what I’m hearin’!”
Gino tried to look sheepish. “Yeh. I know. Strange, ain’t it? I bin writin’ her over a year, but if I see her now… well, s’difficult to explain. I got this feelin’ I bin buildin’ up somethin’ too good in my mind. Like I’ll get her here an’ she’ll be just another girl with zits an’ the curse an’ all that shit.”
“Are you sayin’ you’re not gettin’ married?”
“Naw, I’m not sayin’ that. I’m just havin’ second thoughts about it all.”
Aldo chewed on his hunk of garlic. “I know what you mean. Sometimes I think about marryin’ Barbara—an’ sometimes it scares the crap outa me.”
“Yeh,” agreed Gino, “that’s the feelin’.” He shot Aldo a sideways look. He had planted a seed. It shouldn’t be too difficult for it to grow. In a week or two he would say, “Fuck it—I definitely changed my mind,” and nobody would think twice about it.
Mrs. Lanza insisted that she take Costa on a tour of the city.
Fatigue hit her halfway through their trip to the zoo in Central Park. “Oh, my, oh, my,” she fluttered, sitting on a bench. “This really is too much for me, Costa.”
He made the right agreeable noises while she carried on about how she had wanted to show him the city but her heart wasn’t strong and she would simply have to go home.
He escorted her from the park, hailed her a cab, and thanked his lucky stars he was free at last.
He darted down the subway and made his way over to Gino’s place as fast as possible, rushing up the three flights of stairs and hammering on the door.
A small blonde opened up. “Who are you?” she inquired.
He stared at her. She was uncommonly pretty. “I’m Costa,” he managed, “a friend of Gino’s. Who are you?”
She licked rouged full lips. “I’m Cindy, a very good friend of Gino’s.” She winked cheekily, and her blue eyes—several shades darker than Leonora’s—scanned him from head to toe. “You sure don’t look like a friend of Gino’s. You’re just a kid.”
Costa blushed. “I am not!”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
Costa willed the color to leave his face and said sternly, “Is Gino here? I have come to call on him.”
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