Leroy spoke slowly. “How much y’gonna pay to get him back?”
“Who is this? Is this Leroy?”
“Well, what d’y’know. Thought you din’t know who I was. Thought you had no Uncle Leroy.”
“I’ll pay everything I got. Only I want him back today.”
“Hot steamin’ crap! How yore memory come rushin’ back, girl.”
“I’ll meet you. Where? When?”
Things were moving faster than he had anticipated. He thought quickly. “One o’clock tomorrow afternoon. Top of the Empire State building.”
“Tomorrow?” Her voice shook. “Why not today?”
“One o’clock. Bring five thousand bucks if’n y’ever wanna see the kid alive again. An’ don’t you tell nuthin’ to no one.”
As he hung up he could hear her sobbing. Shit, man. She deserved a little misery in her life, treating him the way she had.
He returned to the counter, took a gulp of his coffee, and sauntered out of the place without paying. Nobody stopped him. It was a good sign.
“Leroy,” he muttered to himself, “soon you is gonna be one rich mutha!”
Enzio Bonnatti said, “He just made it easy for us.”
Carrie nodded limply. She didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry that he had heard the entire conversation.
“What shall I do?” she whispered.
He frowned. “Keep the date. Leave the rest to me.”
“You will get Steven back?”
“Tomorrow you’ll have your kid back. Then perhaps we can get on with running a business here. I’m sending up more dope. Shift it faster, encourage the suckers to use it.”
“Yes, Mr. Bonnatti.”
“Good girl.”
Her eyes were dull. “Thank you, Mr. Bonnatti.”
One o’clock, and Manhattan was teaming with people on their lunch breaks.
Leroy cursed as he entered the towering Empire State building and took a series of elevators to the 102nd floor. He was sweating profusely when he reached the observatory. Moronic dumb-ass meeting place. He wiped the perspiration off his upper lip and put on a pair of very dark sunglasses.
It seemed the world and its wife had decided to make the trip. The place was jammed. He looked around for Carrie. Couldn’t see her. He wondered if she would recognize him today. He remembered her as a skinny black chick with slanty eyes and big tits. She hadn’t changed. Just got better looking.
He couldn’t see any black faces at all. If she didn’t turn up he would skin her whiny little kid alive. Steven. What kind of name was that for a nigger anyway?
Carrie walked to Thirty-fourth Street and Fifth Avenue. She arrived half an hour early and huddled miserably in a coffeeshop watching the minutes tick by on a wall clock.
Enzio Bonnatti had not confided what was going to happen. He had just assured her that she would have Steven back that very same day—“Unless he’s dead,” he had added chillingly. Unless he’s dead. The casually spoken words tormented her all night and were still tormenting her. If Leroy had harmed Steven in any way at all she would personally kill the scumbag. Shoot him with her gun, which rested reassuringly in her purse.
The clock was five minutes off one o’clock when she paid for her coffee and left.
Big Victor and Split watched her go.
“Some ass.” Big Victor leered.
“If you like darkies,” Split commented.
They looked exactly what they were, a couple of hoods. Big Victor was a heavy man with hangdog eyes and a sloppy mouth. Split was younger, thinner, with unruly greased hair and a prominent nose.
“I never paid for it,” Big Victor remarked casually picking at his teeth with a finger. “Can’t understand mugs that do.”
Split nodded his agreement, and they set off after Carrie.
Leroy saw her coming, and hot shit she was something!
He forgot himself for a moment and stared. Sharp as a Dizzy Gillespie solo! Something! He wondered if a little bit of lovin’ might be part of the deal.
She hadn’t seen him; she was looking around kind of panicky.
He was glad he had worn his favorite suit. Brown with a wide white stripe. And he adjusted his white knit tie, which went nicely with his tropical shirt. When she saw him, with his wide-brimmed hat and his dark glasses, she would probably think he was a movie star or something!
He bopped toward her, catching her from behind with a “You musta bin a beau… tiful baby—’cos momma—lookit y’now!”
She almost jumped in the air with shock, and then she turned around and glared at him. “Leroy?”
He preened. “The man hisself!”
Hate filled her eyes. She wanted to pull out her gun and shoot him there and then, but Enzio’s instructions were to identify him—talk a couple of minutes—and walk away when his men took over. She hadn’t seen any of his men. “Is Steven all right?” she asked quickly.
“Sure ’nuff. Havin’ the time o’ his life.”
Her voice was flat. “What do you want?”
He laughed. “Some greetin’. You look hot, talk cold. Whyn’t you warm up some an’ we kin discuss things, huh?”
Her eyes darted around the crowded observatory. “Yes.”
He thought she was objecting to the crowds. “We’ll get outa here. We’ll go someplace else.”
“Where?”
He took her arm in a proprietory way. “That’s for me t’know an’ you to worry about.” He began to walk her toward one of the elevators.
She glanced around desperately and saw them. They had to be Enzio’s. They looked the part. She almost sighed aloud with relief.
A line of people waited to board the down elevator. “We shoulda had a look over the city while we was up here,” Leroy remarked. “I bet it’s some view.” He pinched her arm when she failed to answer. “We’ll do it again, huh?”
She nodded, dizzy with fear. The two men were behind them in the line, so close that she could smell the garlic on their breaths.
An elevator arrived, spilling out a new batch of sightseers. A couple of sailors grinned at her and made appreciative noises. This seemed to please Leroy, who held her arm even tighter. How was she ever going to get away?
They got into the elevator, the two men close behind.
She thought about Steven and once again wanted to get out her gun and put a bullet through Leroy’s oafish stupid grinning mouth.
One day she would. Yes. One day she would.
Big Victor said, “We’ll take him on the sidewalk.” Split agreed.
“I’m gonna enjoy this job,” Big Victor remarked. “Smart-ass nigger pimp’s gonna get everything he should.”
Split ran a hand through his greasy hair. “You think the boss is screwin’dark meat?”
Big Victor spat contemptuously. “Naw.”
“So why we doin’ this?”
“Beats me. I don’t ask questions. Maybe he’s got a soft spot for kids.”
“Yeah—but a darkie kid?”
They both shook their heads in puzzlement.
Out on the sidewalk Leroy adjusted his dark glasses and tipped his hat at a more rakish angle. He was enjoying himself. Having a good time. Passing guys were checking Carrie out like she was ripe fruit on a market shelf. “You done pretty goddamn good for yourself, chicken,” he remarked happily. “I guess I done you one beeeg favor when I set you on the road.”
She stared at him, hate and disbelief mixed on her face. Before she could say anything, Big Victor and Split were moving in. Crowding Leroy, one on each side of him. “Look out, man, watch—” he began to say. Then came realization he was being taken and an outraged splutter of curses.
“Just take it easy,” Big Victor said in a low cold voice, “an’ walk along with us, otherwise my gun’s gonna spew your black guts all over the sidewalk.”
Carrie turned to walk away, but not before Leroy held her with his shifty eyes and spat. “Bitch! The kid’ll get it for this.”
Split jammed
something into the side of him, and he let out a low moan of pain and stopped talking.
Carrie hurried away, frightened to look back, frightened to do anything.
She wanted Steven back. And until she had him safely in her arms again she couldn’t even think straight.
Swedish Lil was getting bored. She looked at the stupid kid, and the stupid kid gazed back at her with his big serious eyes. “Whatcha starin’ at?” she snapped angrily.
Steven did not reply. He was confused. He wanted his mommy and his toys. He didn’t like it where he was. Tears brimmed over and fell down his cheeks. “I want my mommy,” he cried.
“Shut up!”
“I want my mommy.”
“I said shut up, brat.” She threw a shoe at him. It missed, but it shut him up. She yawned, said “Shit!”, jumped off the bed, and did a few leg bends.
Life with Leroy was turning into one big bore.
It took longer than they anticipated. About five minutes longer. Pimps were all the same—black, white, or orange. They could dish it out, but they sure as hell couldn’t take it.
Leroy was no different. The first spill of blood on his sharp brown suit, and he was spitting teeth and blubbering like a baby.
The rest was easy. The drive to Harlem. The hot smelly little room. And the hot smelly little broad who Big Victor whacked on the ass and said, “What’s a white chick like you doin’ hangin’ out with a bad-ass nigger? Get yourself packed an’ out of here. I’ll be comin’ back to check.”
Lil glared at him, then at Leroy—a sniveling whining wreck in the corner. “Shove it!” she said rudely, “both of you. I’m gettin’ out—you can bet on that.”
The kid was all right. Filthy, stinking, a few bruises, but all right. Split slung him over his shoulder and carried him out to the car, where he dumped him on the back seat. Steven was rigid with apprehension.
“A nice clean job,” Big Victor remarked.
“Yeah,” agreed Split. “Y’get a load of the floosie? Couldn’t’ve bin’ more than fifteen.”
“A dirty chick.”
“Yeah. Real low-down dirty.”
“Just the way you like ’em, huh?”
Both men laughed.
Carrie got her baby back, but he wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t say a word. Just stared at her with big accusing eyes as if everything that had happened to him was her fault.
She hugged him, bathed him, put liniment on his bruises, fed him.
He gazed at her and said nothing.
She cursed Leroy silently and hoped that Enzio’s hoods had killed the son-of-a-bitch.
Suzita was taking care of things upstairs while Carrie nursed her son in the small apartment that was their private sanctuary. The fat stupid nursemaid was long gone. It was just the two of them alone together.
At around eleven P.M. Suzita phoned down. “Mr. Bonnatti just arrived,” she whispered. “Ee’s askin’ for you. I told eem you was just downstairs for zee minute only.”
“Oh, God,” raged Carrie, “I can’t come up! Not tonight. I can’t leave Steven.”
“He look plenty mad.”
Carrie drummed her fingers impatiently on the receiver. Did Enzio Bonnatti think he owned her now? Was she supposed to jump as soon as he called?
The answer was yes, and she knew it. “I’ll be up,” she said, “in a minute.”
She went into the bedroom and studied Steven, who slept restlessly. If he woke she should be by his side. Goddamn Bonnatti. Goddamn all men.
She slipped out of her robe and into a dress, then she pressed a kiss onto Steven’s forehead and crooned, “I’ll figure something out for us, sweetheart. I’ll get us out of here. I promise.”
Enzio Bonnatti was lying on top of her bed, fully dressed and smoking a cigar. “I get your kid back—you take off. What is this, a rest home?”
“I have to find a new nurse for him,” she muttered resentfully.
His eyes hardened. “So find one. You’re supposed to be runnin’ a business here.”
“Yes, Mr. Bonnatti. Just give me time.”
“You’ll be gettin’ a delivery tomorrow of some very fine white stuff. Six thousand dollars’ worth. I want the cash in my pocket like in a week. Get it?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, yes. What’s the matter with you? You’re sullen as an old polecat. Don’t I get a little appreciation around here?”
What did he want with her? Why didn’t he leave her alone? He was Enzio Bonnatti. He could have any woman he wanted. Why her?
“What do you want me to do?” she asked flatly.
“Such enthusiasm!” he mocked.
She tried to push a smile on to her face, but it didn’t quite work.
He drew on his cigar and regarded her as though she was a small bug whose only function in life was to entertain him. “Get your clothes off—I wanna see y’naked.” He gestured with his cigar to a chair. “Sit astride it.”
She did as he requested, and all the time she was thinking of Steven and hoping that he wouldn’t wake and wondering how the two of them could escape from this whole degrading scene.
Enzio began to talk about his wife. The things he said about her were disgusting, but it excited him immediately. The more he talked of his wife the more aroused he became.
She tried to look interested, but it was difficult sitting naked on a chair like an object. She wanted to scream, get up and run. Enzio Bonnatti never thought of her as a person with feelings. She was just another whore, and he had stables of them all over the city.
Much later, she lay in the gloom of the small downstairs apartment, Steven tossing and turning beside her. Was this the freedom she had worked so hard to get for them? Running whenever Bonnatti called, pushing his drugs?
And would Leroy be back? Sniffing around and making her live in fear? Forcing her to watch Steven every second of the day and night? She could see no escape. And yet… Bernard Dimes. Could he help her? A stray thought, but the way he had looked at her that day in the street…. If she went to him, told him the truth… It was worth a shot. Anything was worth a shot.
She fell asleep at last, and like her son she slept restlessly.
Big Victor and Split delivered the small bags of white powder called cocaine. They breezed in like long-lost friends, winked and joked with Carrie, and demanded a free fuck on the spot.
She put Big Victor with Silver, the other hood with Suzita, and fumed in the kitchen while the delivery boys had their fun.
Steven sat at the kitchen table, still silent, a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him. Once this had been his favorite meal; now he didn’t want to eat it. He pushed the food discontentedly away.
“Aw, come on, sweetheart, be a good boy for momma,” she pleaded.
He regarded her with big solemn four-year-old eyes, pushing the plate until it crashed to the floor and broke into pieces.
“Goddamn it—” she began angrily, raising her arm as if to strike him.
He didn’t flinch.
What was she thinking of? Was she going mad?
She ran to him and hugged him tightly. “I’m sorry, honeybunch. Momma’s sorry.”
He was unmoved in her arms. A small stubborn package of flesh.
One of the girls strolled into the kitchen, wearing nothing but a yawn and a loose negligee. “Hiya, Stevie, baby. Coochi-coochi-coo!”
Carrie snatched him up. “Tell Suzita I’m going out,” she snapped.
“Sure.”
She hurried to her room. The bags of cocaine were on the middle of her bed waiting to be put away. Goddamn it! She wasn’t going to be Enzio Bonnatti’s pusher any longer.
She sat Steven on a chair and stuffed some clothes in a shopping bag. Then, from a drawer, she took a stack of twenty dollar bills neatly joined with a rubber band. Payoff money. Briefly she felt sorry for Suzita, who would be left to explain…. But what could she do?
She scooped Steven under one arm, the shopping bag under the other, and quietly left the apartment
.
Downstairs she collected his stroller, and within five minutes she was out on the street and walking fast.
Carrie was on her way to a new life, and no one was going to stop her.
Gino
1950
Maria smiled. She had the greatest smile in the world—and the biggest belly. She sat in the garden of their house in East Hampton and said, very quietly, “Gino. I think that you had better take me to the hospital.”
He went into a panic. “Jeeze! Who shall I call? What shall I do?”
“Phone the hospital and tell them we are on the way. Stay calm.”
“I am calm! Jeeze! How do you know it’s time?”
She smiled serenely. “It’s time.”
“Holy shit! You stay right there.” He raced into the house to summon help.
Mrs. Camden, the nanny they had hired, was knitting, drinking tea, and listening to the radio.
“Move it!” Gino screamed. “She’s ready!”
Nanny Camden did not move as fast as he would have liked. She placed her knitting on a table, patted her neat white bun to make sure every hair was in place, and then—very slowly—got up.
Gino was almost jumping up and down with frustration. He alerted his chauffeur and bodyguard, then dashed upstairs to get Maria’s suitcase. She had been packed and ready for weeks.
He could hardly believe that the moment had finally come. Forty-four years old and he was going to be a father! He had almost given up on the idea.
“Hey, baby, how do you feel? You O.K.? Can you walk?”
“Of course.” Maria laughed as she made her way slowly toward the car, Nanny Camden on one side, Gino on the other. “You did alert the hospital, didn’t you?”
He slapped his forehead. “Shit! I forgot. Don’t go away.” He rushed back into the house, his heart banging at an alarming pace. Quickly he called the hospital. “Mrs. Santangelo’s comin’ in now, have everything ready!”
The woman on the other end of the line was cool as ice on tit. Gino could have strangled her. What was the matter with everyone, didn’t they have any sense of occasion?
Chances Page 40