by Mario Puzo
“Don’t ask me,” Franky said to her. “Right now my whole life is centered on how to beat you at tennis.”
After dinner the two brothers walked Rosie down the red clay path to her cottage. She gave them each a quick kiss on the cheek, and they were left alone in the desert air. The last image they took with them was Rosie’s pert face gleaming in the moonlight.
“I think she’s exceptional,” Stace said.
“Better than that,” Franky said.
For the rest of Rosie’s two weeks at the ranch, she became their buddy. In late afternoons after tennis they went golfing together. She was good, but not as good as the brothers. They could really whack the ball far out and had nerves of steel on the putting green. A middle-aged guy at the tennis ranch came with them to the golf course to make up a foursome and insisted on being partnered with Rosie and playing for ten dollars a hole, and though he was good, he lost. Then he tried to join them for dinner that night at the tennis ranch. Rosie rebuffed him, to the delight of the twins. “I’m trying to get one of these guys to propose to me,” she said.
It was Stace who got Rosie into bed by the end of the first week. Franky had gone down to Vegas for the evening to gamble and to give Stace a clear shot. When he returned at midnight, Stace wasn’t in the room. The next morning when he appeared Franky asked him, “How was she?”
“Exceptional,” Stace said.
“You mind if I take a shot?” Franky asked.
This was unusual. They had never shared a woman; it was one area where their tastes differed. Stace thought it over. Rosie fitted in perfectly with both of them. But the three couldn’t keep hanging out together if Stace was getting Rosie and Franky was not. Unless Franky brought another girl into the combo—and that would spoil it.
“It’s OK,” Stace said.
So the next night Stace went down to Vegas and Franky took his shot with Rosie. Rosie made no trouble at all, and she was delightful in bed—no fancy tricks, just good-hearted fun and games. She didn’t seem uncomfortable about it at all.
But the next day when the three of them had breakfast, Franky and Stace didn’t know quite how to act. They were a little too formal and polite. Deferential. Their perfect harmony was gone. Rosie polished off her eggs and bacon and toast and then leaned back and said with amusement, “Am I going to have trouble with you two guys? I thought we were buddies.”
Stace said sincerely, “It’s just that we’re both crazy about you, and we don’t know exactly how to handle this.”
Rosie said, laughing, “I’ll handle it. I like you both a lot. We’re having a good time. We’re not getting married, and after we leave the tennis ranch, we’ll probably never see each other again. I’ll go back to New York, and you guys will go back to L.A. So let’s not spoil it now unless one of you is the jealous type. Then we can just cut out the sex part.”
The twins were suddenly at ease with her. “Fat chance,” Stace said.
Franky said, “We’re not jealous, and I’m going to beat you at tennis one time before we leave here.”
“You haven’t got the strokes,” Rosie said firmly, but she reached out and clasped both their hands.
“Let’s settle it today,” Franky said.
Rosie tilted her head shyly. “I’ll give you three points a game,” she said. “And if you lose, you won’t give me any more of that macho crap.”
Stace said, “I’ll put a hundred bucks on Rosie.”
Franky smiled wolfishly at both of them. There was no way he would let himself lose to Rosie with a three-point handicap. He said to Stace, “Make that bet five.”
Rosie had a mischievous smile on her face. “And if I win, Stace gets tonight with me.”
Both brothers laughed aloud. It gave them pleasure that Rosie was not that perfect, that she had a touch of malice in her.
Out on the tennis court, nothing could save Franky—not his whirlwind serve, not his acrobatic returns or the three-point spot. Rosie had a top spin she had never used before that completely baffled Franky. She zipped him 6–0. When the set was over, Rosie gave Franky a kiss on the cheek and whispered, “I’ll make it up to you tomorrow night.” As promised, she slept with Stace after the three of them had dinner. This alternated for the rest of the week.
The twins drove Rosie to the airport the day she left. “Remember, if you ever get to New York, give me a ring,” she said. They had already given her an open invitation to stay with them anytime she came to L.A. Then she surprised them. She held out two small gift-wrapped boxes. “Presents,” she said, and smiled happily. The twins opened the boxes, and each found a Navajo ring with a blue stone. “To remember me by.”
Later, when the brothers went shopping in town, they saw the rings on sale for three hundred bucks.
“She could have bought us a tie each or one of those funny cowboy belts for fifty bucks,” Franky said. They were extraordinarily pleased.
They had another week to spend at the ranch, but they spent little of it playing tennis. They golfed and flew to Vegas in the evenings. But they made it a rule not to spend the night there. That’s how you could lose big—take a shellacking in the early-morning hours when your energy was down and your judgment was impaired.
Over dinner they talked about Rosie. Neither would say a disloyal word about her, though in their hearts they held her in lower esteem because she had fucked both of them.
“She really enjoyed it,” Franky said. “She never got mean or moody after.”
“Yeah,” Stace said. “She was exceptional. I think we found the perfect broad.”
“But they always change,” Franky said.
“Do we call her when we get to New York?” Stace asked.
“I will,” Franky said.
. . .
A week after they left Scottsdale they registered at the Sherry-Netherland in Manhattan. The next morning they rented a car and drove out to John Heskow’s house on Long Island. When they pulled into the driveway, they saw Heskow sweeping his basketball court clean of a thin skin of snow. He raised his hand in welcome. Then he motioned them to pull into the garage attached to the house. His own car was parked outside. Franky jumped out of the car before Stace pulled in, to shake Heskow’s hand but really to put him in close range if anything happened.
Heskow unlocked the door and ushered them inside.
“It’s all ready,” he said. He led them upstairs to the huge trunk in the bedroom and unlocked it. Inside were stacks of money rubber-banded into six-inch bundles, along with a folded leather bag, almost as big as a suitcase. Stace threw the bundles onto the bed. Then the brothers rifled through each stack to make sure they were all hundreds and that there were no counterfeits. They only counted the bills in one stack and multiplied it by one hundred. Then they loaded the money into the leather bag. When they were finished, they looked up at Heskow. He was smiling. “Have a cup of coffee before you go,” he said. “Take a leak or whatever.”
“Thanks,” Stace said. “Is there anything we should know? Any fuss?”
“None at all,” Heskow said. “Everything’s perfect. Just don’t be too flashy with the dough.”
“It’s for our old age,” Franky said, and the brothers laughed.
“What about his kids?” Franky asked. “They didn’t make any noise?”
“They were brought up straight,” Heskow said. “They’re not Sicilians. They are very successful professionals. They believe in the law. And they’re lucky they’re not suspects.”
The twins laughed and Heskow smiled. It was a good joke.
“Well, I’m just amazed,” Stace said. “Such a big man and so little fuss.”
“Well, it’s been a year now and not a peep,” Heskow said.
The brothers finished their coffee and shook hands with Heskow. “Keep well,” Heskow said. “I may be calling you again.”
“You do that,” Franky said.
Back in the city the brothers dumped the money into a joint security safe-deposit box. Actually, two. They didn’t even di
p any casual spending money. Then they went back to the hotel and called Rosie.
She was surprised and delighted to hear from them so soon. Her voice was eager as she urged them to come to her apartment at once. She would show them New York, her treat. So that evening they arrived at her apartment and she served them drinks before they all left for dinner and the theater.
Rosie took them to Le Cirque, which she told them was the finest restaurant in New York. The food was great, and even though it was not on the menu, at Franky’s request they cooked him up a plate of spaghetti that was the best he’d ever tasted. The twins could not get over the fact that a fancy restaurant could serve the food they liked so much. They also noted that the maître d’ treated Rosie in a very special way, and that impressed them. They had their usual great time, Rosie urging them to tell their stories. She looked especially beautiful. It was the first time they had seen her dressed formally.
Over coffee, the brothers gave Rosie their present. They had bought it at Tiffany’s that afternoon and had it wrapped in a maroon velvet box. It had cost five grand, a simple gold chain with a diamond-encrusted locket of white platinum.
“From me and Stace,” Franky said. “We chipped in.”
Rosie was stunned. Her eyes became watery and gleaming. She put the chain over her head so that the locket rested between her breasts. Then she leaned over and kissed both of them. It was a simple sweet kiss on the lips that tasted of honey.
The brothers had once told Rosie they had never gone to a Broadway musical, so the next night she was taking them to see Les Misérables. She promised them they would really love it. And they did, but with a few reservations. Later, in her apartment, Franky said, “I don’t believe he didn’t kill the cop Javert when he had the chance.”
“It’s a musical,” Stace said. “Musicals don’t make sense even in the movies. It’s not their job.”
But Rosie disputed this. “It shows Jean Valjean has become a really good man,” she said. “It’s about redemption. A man who sins and steals and then reconciles with society.”
This irritated even Stace. “Wait a minute,” he said. “The guy started off a thief. Once a thief, always a thief. Right, Franky?”
Now Rosie took fire. “What would you two guys know about a man like Valjean?” And that broke the brothers up. Rosie smiled her good-humored smile. “Which of you is staying tonight?” she asked.
She waited for the answer and finally said, “I don’t do three-somes. You have to take turns.”
“Who do you want to stay?” Franky asked.
“Don’t start that,” Rosie warned. “Or we’ll have a beautiful relationship like in the movies. No screwing. And I’d hate that,” she said, smiling to take the edge off. “I love you both.”
“I’ll go home tonight,” Franky said. He wanted her to know she didn’t have power over him.
Rosie kissed Franky good night and accompanied him to the door. She whispered, “I’ll be special tomorrow night.”
They had six days to spend together. Rosie had to work on her dissertation during the day, but she was available in the evenings.
One night the twins took her to a Knicks game at the Garden when the Lakers were in town, and they were delighted that she appreciated all the fine points of the game. Afterward they went to a fancy deli and Rosie told them that the next day, the day before Christmas Eve, she had to leave town for the week. The brothers had assumed she would spend Christmas with her family. But now they noticed that for the first time since they had known her, she looked a little depressed.
“No, I’m spending Christmas alone in a house my family owns upstate. I wanted to duck all that phony Christmas stuff, to just study and sort out my life.”
“So just cancel and spend Christmas with us,” Franky said. “We’ll change our flight back to L.A.”
“I can’t,” Rosie said. “I have to study, and that’s the best place.”
“All alone?” Stace asked.
Rosie ducked her head. “I’m such a dope,” she said.
“Why don’t we go up with you for just a few days?” Franky asked. “We’ll leave the day after Christmas.”
“Yeah,” Stace said, “we could use some peace and quiet.”
Rosie’s face was glowing. “Would you really?” she said happily. “That’s so great. We could go skiing on Christmas. There’s a resort just thirty minutes from the house. And I’ll cook a Christmas dinner.” She paused for a moment and then said unconvincingly, “But promise you’ll leave after Christmas; I really have to work.”
“We have to get back to L.A.,” Stace said. “We have a business to run.”
“God, I love you guys,” Rosie said.
Stace said casually, “Franky and me were talking. You know we’ve never been to Europe, and we thought when you’re finished with school this summer, we could all go together. You be our guide. Top of the line in everything. Just a couple of weeks. We could have a great time if you were with us.”
“Yeah,” Franky said. “We can’t go alone.” They all laughed.
“That is just a wonderful idea,” Rosie said. “I’ll show you London and Paris and Rome. And you will absolutely adore Venice. You may never leave. But hell, summer is a long time away, you guys. I know you, you’ll be chasing other women by then.”
“We want you,” Franky said almost angrily.
“I’ll be ready when I get the call,” Rosie said.
On the morning of December 23, Rosie pulled up to their hotel to pick up the twins. She was driving a huge Cadillac whose trunk held her big suitcases and a few gayly wrapped presents and still had room for their more modest ones.
Stace took the backseat and let Franky ride up front with Rosie. The radio was playing, and none of them talked for about an hour. That was what was great about Rosie.
While waiting for Rosie to pick them up, the brothers had had a conversation over breakfast. Stace could see Franky was uneasy with him, which was rare between the twins.
“Spit it out,” Stace said.
“Don’t take this wrong,” Franky said. “I’m not jealous or anything. But could you lay off Rosie while we’re up there?”
“Sure,” Stace said. “I’ll tell her I caught the clap in Vegas.”
Franky grinned and said, “You don’t have to go that far. I’d just like to try having her for myself. Otherwise, I’ll lay off and you can have her.”
“You’re a jerk,” Stace said. “You’ll ruin everything. Look, we didn’t muscle her, we didn’t con her. This is what she wants to do. And I think it’s great for us.”
“I’d just like to try it by myself,” Franky said again. “Just for a little while.”
“Sure,” Stace said. “I’m the older brother, I have to watch out for you.” It was their favorite joke, and indeed it always did seem Stace was a few years older than Franky instead of ten minutes.
“But you know she’ll be wise to you in two seconds,” Stace said. “Rosie is smart. She’ll know you’re in love with her.”
Franky looked at his brother with astonishment. “I’m in love with her?” he said. “Is that it? Jesus fucking Christ.” And they both laughed.
Now the car was out of the city and rolling through the farmland of Westchester County. Franky broke the silence. “I never saw so much snow in my life,” he said. “How the hell can people live here?”
“Because it’s cheap,” Rosie said.
Stace asked, “How much longer?”
“About an hour and a half,” Rosie said. “You guys need to stop?”
“No,” Franky said, “let’s get there.”
“Unless you have to stop,” Stace said to Rosie.
Rosie shook her head. She looked very determined, hands tight on the wheel, peering intently at the slow-falling snow-flakes.
About an hour later they went through a small town, and Rosie said, “Just another fifteen minutes.”
The car went up a steep incline, and on top of a small hill was a house,
gray as an elephant, surrounded by snow-covered fields, the snow absolutely pure white and unmarked, no foot-prints, no car tracks.
Rosie pulled to a stop at the front-porch entrance, and they got out. She loaded them down with suitcases and the Christmas boxes. “Go on in,” she said. “The door is open. We don’t lock up out here.”
Franky and Stace crunched up the steps of the porch and opened the door. They were in an enormous living room decorated with animal heads on the walls, and there was a huge fire in a hearth as big as a cave.
Outside suddenly, they could hear the roar of the Cadillac’s motor, and at that moment six men appeared from the two entryways of the house. They were holding guns, and the leader, a huge man with a great mustache, said in a slightly accented voice, “Don’t move. Don’t drop the packages.” Then the guns were pressed against their bodies.
Stace understood at once, but Franky was worried about Rosie. It took him about thirty seconds to put it together—the roar of the engine and Rosie not being there. Then with the worst feeling he had ever had in his life, he realized the truth. Rosie was bait.
CHAPTER 7
ON THE NIGHT before Christmas Eve Astorre attended a party given by Nicole at her apartment. She had invited professional colleagues and members of her pro bono groups, including her favorite, the Campaign Against the Death Penalty.
Astorre liked parties. He loved to chat with people he would never see again and who were so different from him. Sometimes he met interesting women with whom he had brief affairs. And he always hoped to fall in love; he missed it. Tonight Nicole had reminded him of their teenage romance, not coy or flirting but with good humor.
“You broke my heart when you obeyed my father and went to Europe,” she said.
“Sure,” Astorre said. “But that didn’t stop you from meeting other guys.”
For some reason Nicole was very fond of him tonight. She held his hand in an intimate schoolgirl way, she kissed him on the lips, she clung to him as if she knew that he was about to escape her once again.
This confused him because all his old tenderness was aroused, but he understood starting up again with Nicole would be a terrible mistake at this junction of his life. Not with the decisions he had to make. Finally she led him to a group of people and introduced him.