Don't Be Cruel

by Mike, Argento,

  "If you need anything else, feel free to call, or stop by anytime, Seamus."

  For a second, when he entered Grandma's living room, Smith felt like he was having an out-of-body experience. His head felt light, his chest tight. He was convinced he was having a heart attack and a stroke at the same time.

  It was neither. It was just his body's reaction to seeing Papa on the couch, between Elvis and Polamalu, eating a s'more and watching "Viva Las Vegas" on TV.

  He gave Kathy a quick, wide-eyed look and she returned it with a shrug. Spew, meanwhile, bounded past them and headed to the kitchen. "S'mores!" he yelled.

  "Well," Kathy broke the silence, "this is kind of…"

  "Weird," Smith said. "Yeah. Weird. But then, it's been pretty weird for a while now." Smith took Kathy's arm and led her to the kitchen. They watched Grandma making s'mores.

  "Well?" Kathy asked.

  "Well, what?"

  "You dragged me in here. Remember? What was so important you had to drag me in here? Do you want a s'more?"

  "I made plenty," Grandma said.

  "That's OK, Grandma Spew. Thank you. They look delicious."

  Jesus. Eddie Haskell returns.

  "So," Smith said, turning to Kathy, "what do you think?"

  "Those s'mores look awfully good and I haven't eaten since I had that brownie."

  "No, about the other thing."

  "Oh, that."

  "What do you think we should do?"

  "Hey, this is your thing. I'm just the skirt, remember?" She flipped her hair and giggled.

  "Fuck you."

  "Promises, promises."

  "Come on, help me out here," Smith pleaded.

  They stood and looked into each other's eyes for a moment before their concentration was broken by noises coming from upstairs, a loud rhythm of banging furniture setting the beat for grunts and primal bleats.

  "What the hell?" Smith said.

  "It sounds like a grizzly bear screwing a sheep."

  Word got back to The Boss that Slim Sam was no more.

  "How'd it happen?" he asked the bearer of bad news.

  "Dunno, boss. All I know is they found him in that strip joint across the river run by the Greek."

  "Get the fuck outta here and don't come back until you have more information."

  Half an hour later, the same messenger came with more bad news.

  "I talked to some people and found some stuff out. His face was all fucked up. Said he looked like that Elephant Man or some shit. Something was written on him. 'I am not an animal.' Fuck if I know what it means."

  The Boss stirred his espresso. He removed the spoon from the cup and tapped it three times on the rim. This could not stand. He couldn't have one of his guys killed in the line of duty without retaliating. He had done Papa a favor and he repaid it by allowing Slim Sam to be killed in his place. Sure, he stood to profit and he could write off Slim Sam as the cost of doing business. But such a thing was bad for business in the long run. He wouldn't be able to find too many employees willing to execute his business plan if word got around that they could be executed without consequence. There had to be consequences.

  Besides, Papa had created this cluster-fuck. He said he had someone on the inside, but with all of the explosions and such, it was only a matter of time before the cops come sniffing around. The Boss didn't think Papa had the disposition for jail and to save his own ass, would rat out whoever he could. The Boss couldn't let that happen.

  He lowered his gaze and told the messenger, "I want that fucker found. I want reliable people on this."

  The messenger nodded.

  "Which fucker?" the messenger asked.

  "The fuckin' Greek. Who the fuck we talking about? And when you find him, let me know. I have to handle this myself."

  Of late, there had been a lot of talk that the The Boss was slacking in his management duties and that he was becoming too handsoff. He planned to be handson this bastard.

  "Understood," the messenger said. He paused and then said, "What about Slim Sam?"

  "What about him?"

  "Should I get his body or what?"

  The Boss rubbed his chin.

  "Call his mother and let her know where to collect him. And send her some nice flowers."

  Nunn and Traci With an I came back downstairs. Smith glared at them. Spew looked on in amazement. Polamalu and Elvis were watching "Tickle Me."

  Polamalu asked, "That guy who plays Brad? I think I've seen him in other things."

  "Character actor, Ed Faulkner. In a bunch of westerns," Elvis said.

  "No shit. Any relation to William Faulkner?"

  "Who the fuck's William Faulkner?" Elvis asked.

  "What, are you illiterate?" Polamalu asked.

  "Who you calling illiterate? Least I don't have all sorts of weird shit on my head."

  They stood and faced each other. Papa tried to slip out between them, but came facetomuzzle with Elvis' .44.

  "Nice try," Elvis said. "Now sit and watch the movie."

  Elvis and Polamalu sat, glaring at each other.

  "Now boys," Grandma said. "Don't be cruel."

  Nunn strode to the middle of the room and stood in front of the television, again.

  "I have an announcement to make. Traci and I are getting married."

  Polamalu said, "We heard you the first time. We're trying to watch a movie here."

  Nunn was undaunted.

  "I mean, right now. You're all invited. Let's go."

  He grabbed Traci With an I's hand and pulled her toward the front door. Nobody followed.

  "What are you guys waiting for? Let's get to the church. Elvis, you do the ceremony. We wrote our own vows."

  Smith, as well as everybody in the room, heard the couple's conversation from upstairs and was suddenly filled with anticipation for the wedding. It would be the first in which the vows were a series of loud moans punctuated by screams of "Oh God, fuck me harder!"

  But what the hell? If that's what makes them happy, Smith thought, who's he to judge?

  Besides, they had to get Papa out of there and somewhere where the cops could find him. By now, they should be looking for him. If the cops were smart enough to put two and two together and get four, the church would be a good bet.

  It took a while to figure out the traveling arrangements and who would drive and who would ride with whom. The room was full of chatter. Grandma was telling Spew what she'd need to make a wedding cake and a nice dinner. Traci With an I was trying to talk Kathy into being her maid of honor. Nunn was asking Smith to be his best man.

  "Um, Walt," Smith said, "I hate to bring this up again, but I was one of the guys who tried to kill you not long ago."

  "That's cool," Nunn said. "It wasn't anything personal. It was just business. Now, I'd like you to be my best man."

  "What the fuck," Smith answered.

  Nunn hugged him and the room exploded with talk.

  Polamalu stood up, held up a hand and yelled, "Wait!"

  The room fell silent.

  "Can we wait until the movie's over?"

  Chapter Thirty

  Elvis stood at the altar, nearly glowing in his best white jumpsuit, the one with the large pointy collar, lightning bolts on the sleeves and the stars running down the sides of the pants.

  To his left stood Nunn, still wearing the track suit he pulled on after his marathon session with Traci With an I. Next to Nunn was Smith, looking kind of uncomfortable with his role in the proceedings.

  Grandma and Spew were in the kitchen, whipping up a cake and a reception dinner of lasagna. Papa sat in the front pew, keeping his eye on Smith, who kept his right hand behind his back, gripping the butt of Elvis' .44, tucked in the back of his jeans.

  Kathy stood with Traci With an I at the top of the aisle, waiting for the music to begin. Traci With an I was wearing her bridal costume from The Happy Beaver, having picked it up on the way to the church. While there, she invited the investment bankers who sat halfway up on the
aisle, on the bride's side, dabbing their eyes with tissues.

  Polamalu stood by the door. He said he'd be the usher, or bouncer, whichever was needed.

  "Well?" Kathy yelled.

  Elvis squinted, wrinkled his brow and shrugged.

  "The music?" Kathy yelled.

  "Oh, right, music," Elvis said.

  He reached under the lectern and pushed a button. "Suspicious Minds" filled the church. "

  "'Suspicious Minds?' " Kathy yelled over the intro.

  Elvis held his palms up.

  "I don't care," Traci With an I said. "Let's just get on with this."

  Just as Traci With an I was starting to walk unsteadily down the aisle – her knees were killing her – the front door of the church swung open and two men who looked to be made of Legos, square heads stacked on square shoulders, walked in, keeping their hands inside their sports coats. Behind the men was a beefy looking man, barrel-chested, older, with salt and pepper hair and wearing a polo shirt and jacket.

  Traci With an I stopped and turned. Elvis stopped the music.

  "Bride or groom's side?" Palomalu asked.

  "What the fuck are you talking about?" the beefy looking guy asked. They stared at each other for a minute. The Lego guys stood back, watching the others in the room.

  "Well, have a seat," Traci With an I said. "I'm guessing you're on the groom's side."

  "What groom?" the beefy looking guy said. "What the fuck's going on here?"

  The beefy looking guy had heard about the church but was unprepared for what he saw once he entered the sanctuary. He wasn't a religious man, but when he spotted Elvis on the golden toilet, he crossed himself and genuflected.

  "Jesus Christ," he muttered.

  "No, it's Elvis, boss," one of the Lego guys said.

  "I know it's fucking Elvis. Christ."

  Polamalu said, "Go ahead. Have a seat anywhere."

  They excused themselves past Traci With an I and walked to the front of the church. The Boss saw Papa and sat next to him, close. The Lego guys sat behind them.

  "OK," Elvis said, "everybody's seated. Let's try this again."

  The music resumed and Traci With an I continued her stiff walk down the aisle. She had taken only three steps when the doors flew open and two cops burst into the sanctuary. Behind the cops was an older cop, a man who looked like he was in charge. Elvis killed the music.

  "Bride or groom's side?" Polamalu asked.

  "Neither," the older cop said.

  "Jesus Christ, Santonio," Traci With an I said, exasperated. "What are you doing?"

  "I'm ushering, remember? I'm the usher," he said.

  "Just let them in," she said.

  "OK," he said, waving the cops into the sanctuary.

  "Ma'am," the older cop said, "we'll try to stay out of your way."

  The cops looked around and made their way to the front of the church. The man they wanted to talk to was sitting in the front, next to a beefy looking guy. The two guys sitting behind them slid their hands under their jackets.

  The older cop put his hand on the holster on his belt. The cops sat in the front pew on the bride's side.

  Smith wasn't sure what to make of what was happening. He knew he didn't like it. He looked at Papa, who returned his gaze with a pleading look. Smith shrugged. He wasn't going to help. He was trying to figure how he was going to get out of this.

  The music resumed and Traci With an I continued up the aisle. Kathy led the way, looking at Smith the whole way with wide eyes and a panicked expression.

  They seemed to be the only two people, other than Papa, who grasped the gravity of the situation. Elvis was busy studying his lines. Nunn was oblivious, a blissful expression on his face. This really was the happiest day of his life.

  Traci With an I was concentrating on not tripping. Her knees were just beginning to feel OK and she didn't want to spend her honeymoon getting them scoped. Kathy took her place to Elvis' right, keeping her eyes on Smith. Smith shrugged.

  Traci With an I stood before Elvis.

  Elvis looked up from his script for the ceremony and noticed the new guests. He gave Smith a pleading look and whispered, "Who are these guys?"

  Smith whispered back, "It'll be OK. Let's get on with it."

  Elvis wasn't so sure. He killed the music, cleared his throat and began, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to witness the joining of these two hep cats, Traci and Walter, in groovy matrimony."

  Kathy rolled her eyes.

  Elvis, in a stage whisper, asked, "What?"

  "Never mind," Kathy replied. "Don't mind me."

  Elvis regained his composure and continued.

  "The King once sang 'Baby, let's play house.' That's what we're doing here. Setting up Traci and Walter to play house. Now, is there anybody among y'all who object to this union, speak now or forever hold it in?"

  Elvis paused and looked at those gathered. The newest guests looked like the kind of people who would object. But they didn't, and hearing no objections, Elvis continued.

  "Now, you two promise to don't be cruel, to love each other tender, to stay all shook up, to keep your burnin' love alive?"

  "I do," Walter blurted out.

  "Sure, why not," Traci With an I said.

  "All right, then. Do you, Walter, pledge to be her hound dog?"

  "Yes," he said.

  "And you, Traci, pledge to be his long-legged woman?"

  "I guess," she said, looking at her legs.

  "Cool. Now you guys said you wrote some of your own vows?"

  Nunn cleared his throat and pulled a scrap of paper out of his pocket. He squinted at it and held it close to his eyes. His handwriting was chicken scratch.

  "Um, let's see," he said. "I pledge to always be, uh, I can't make it out. And, um, I also pledge to always make sure you, uh, have, uh …"

  He held the slip of paper in front of Smith and, pointing to some of his scribbling, asked, "What's this word?"

  "I have no idea," Smith said. "It looks like organ or something."

  "Orgasm!" Nunn yelled. "That's it."

  Elvis interrupted.

  "I believe we can skip the vows part and you may kiss the bride and so on and so forth."

  Nunn and Traci With an I kissed. Kathy turned away when Nunn's hands slid down his bride's back and gripped her buttocks.

  "All right, enough you two," Elvis said. "Don't make me get the hose. I now pronounce you man and wife. Wait, I think I was supposed to do that before y'all kissed."

  It was done.

  Nunn took Traci With an I's arm and walked her toward the door. The rest of the congregation stood and eyed each other suspiciously.

  The Boss took Papa's arm and started toward the aisle. D'Onofrio met them halfway, looking at Papa. The two cops stood behind the major, eyeing the Lego guys as they lined up behind The Boss.

  "Philo Papadopoulos ?" D'Onofrio asked. "I'd like to ask you a few questions."

  Papa was relieved. For the first time, he was happy to see a cop.

  "Sure," Papa said. "Take me downtown, or wherever you take people. Let's go. You want to go now?"

  D'Onofrio sized up the situation. Papadopoulos was obviously in some trouble with these gangsters and trouble with gangsters usually ended with someone being fed into a wood chipper, or car shredder.

  "There's no need for that," D'Onofrio said.

  D'Onofrio reached into his jacket. The Lego guys stiffened and reached into their jackets. The two cops behind D'Onofrio put their hands on the butts of their guns.

  "No," the major said.

  "No?" one of the cops said.

  "It's not necessary right now."

  D'Onofrio pulled his hand out of his jacket. The Lego guys started to pull their guns. The cops began lifting their service revolvers from their holsters.

  D'Onofrio handed Papa a photo of Slim Sam. Everybody holstered their weapons and took a breath.

  "Do you know this man?" he asked.

  Papa studied the photo.


  "The Elephant Man?"

  "Not quite," D'Onofrio said. "His name is Sam Colombo. They called him Slim Sam. Ring any bells?"

  "Can't say," Papa said. "Maybe if I got a better look in better light, you know, at the police station."

  "That's OK," D'Onofrio said. "We found this man's body in your office at The Happy Beaver. We were wondering whether you could clear up how he got there."

  Papa had no idea, but he said, "I'd love to clear that up. Let's go now and talk about it."

  Beads of sweat formed on Papa's forehead. His left eye twitched.

  D'Onofrio glanced at the Lego guys standing behind Papa.

  "I think these guys know him."

  The Lego guys didn't flinch.

  Papa said, "Then, maybe you should take these guys downtown."

  "There's no need for that," he said, still looking at the Lego guys while handing Papa a business card.

  "Just give me a call tomorrow," he said. "We'll figure it out then. I'll let you get to the reception now."

  "I'm not under arrest?" Papa asked.

  "No," D'Onofrio said. "Do you want to be?"

  "Now that you mention it, yes."

  The Boss jerked Papa's arm and tried to guide him to the door. Papa resisted.

  D'Onofrio looked at The Boss and nodded. Let him have him, he thought. It would save a lot of trouble.

  "I think you should arrest me," Papa said.

  The beads of sweat on Papa's forehead formed rivulets, which streaked his face. He could feel a vein in his forehead throbbing.

  "Why?" D'Onofrio said.

  "Well, there's probably lots of stuff," Papa said. "I'll tell you about it later. The Elephant Man, yeah, I can tell you about him."

  "You can?"

  "Yes, and I think you should take me in. I'm a suspect, right?"

  D'Onofrio shook his head.

  "Person of interest?"

  D'Onofrio shook his head.

  "Material witness."

  Another head shake.

  "We don't have a suspect. I mean, we don't need a suspect. The guy died of anaphylactic shock. We're just trying to figure out how he got into your office with 'I am not an animal' written on his chest."

  "I did it. Take me in," Papa pleaded. The sweat had soaked through Papa's shirt. He felt like he was about to start bleeding from his eyeballs.