The Legend of Joey Trucks: The Accidental Mobster
Page 33
“Now hold on there, Joe…” He whimpered, “What on earth are you talking about? The FBI you say?” I was getting hotter by the second. “Don’t you bullshit me, you bastard, I saw you looking out the window while they were there interrogating me and my wife. In my home! I saw you again when we walked out. You know damned well you’re the one who was calling them anonymously. You were in my garage that day when I took the call from Richard Green about The Crusher. The Crusher is a garbage truck, Phil…a garbage truck! You called the FBI to my home because you are a shitty eaves-dropper with too active an imagination and nothing interesting going on in your entire miserable life!” I was seething. The more I thought about what he’d done and the more I thought about what could have gone wrong this morning with seven armed federal agents in my house, the more pissed off I got.
“Phil, I’ve tried to be your friend. I’ve put up with your avoiding us and never being quite the neighbor to us that everyone else was. I’m done. Today you insulted me, and you never, ever insult an Italian man’s honor. You insulted mine, and my father’s, and my grandfather’s. We worked hard to make our business something great and you looked at my success as some sort of mob connection. I am not in the god damned mob!”
I was on a roll. Then, in a moment of brilliance, I decided to have a laugh at Phil’s expense. I made up a couple more Itanglish words just to give him something to stew over for a few weeks. “Phil…” I barked at him, “You are a sfinginue!” I tried not to smile because it would have ruined the moment. “You’re a sfinginue and you have a lot of trouble coming because of this day!” I paused for effect, then I raised my hand, extended my index and pinky and growled; “Noddafingah!” I spun on my heels and walked out the door. Sfinginue, I said to myself. If that isn’t a word, it needs to be. Oh and in case you’re wondering, I borrowed “Noddafingah” from “Old Man Parker,” the dad in A Christmas Story.
There’s No Escaping This Thing of Ours
I walked back to the house. Angie had left to go get the kids from school. I was glad they hadn’t been there to see the events of the morning. I sat down in my recliner and just stared out the window. Oh Crap! I thought to myself, in the morning’s excitement I never got the Winter Warlock put out on the yard. I had wanted to get it out there and inflated before the kids got home. Oh well, I thought, I guess I’ll do it tomorrow.
I was too upset to get to it today and I wanted to get rid of this bad mood before the kids got home. But I was too angry. I kept thinking about what Phil had done. The things he’d implied. The dangerous game he’d played all because he’s just a suspicious old man with a vivid imagination and an obsession with the mob. I was literally shaking. It hurt. My family worked so hard to stay away from that mafia stuff. We never liked those images of mobster Italians to begin with. There was a reason I never wore the silk suits and got my hair sculpted and wore pinky rings. I earned every penny I made honestly, and I didn’t want to be looked at as one of those guys. Hell, I had some of them as friends back home, but I made sure there was a clear line between us, and nobody crossed it.
It felt like none of that mattered. I was Italian, I was in the Waste Management business, and I had a ton of money. That, and I was very different from my neighbors. That’s all he needed to believe the lie.
But for all my efforts, I apparently couldn’t convince one guy, one very loudmouthed, opinionated guy, that all those things he thought were me being in the mob, were simply me being Italian. This is what happens when you eavesdrop. I said to myself. A sixty seven year old man should know better.
Angie and the kids came home a few minutes later. I smiled just hearing them pull up the drive. The boys opened the door for their mom and sister, like I’d taught them. They were straight “A” students at a private Christian Academy. They weren’t A.J. frickin’ Soprano. I was getting angry all over again. I decided to just stop thinking about it. It was done. Phil was put in his place and as far as I was concerned, it was over.
Angie got the kids a snack and made sure they changed their clothes and put their books in their bedrooms. Petey wanted to throw a football for a few minutes before it got dark. Before long, I had a serious game of “Delco RoughTouch” going in my front yard. The boys called a few of the neighbor kids and Uncle Tommy Fallone came over to join in. Afterwards, I made my sons instant neighborhood heroes by telling them –in front of their friends- how my uncle Tony, their great uncle, had played Rough Touch with the great Vince “Invincible” Papale. The neighbor kids had seen the movie and knew exactly who I was talking about. My sons were strutting like peacocks.
Later, after dinner, I was talking with Angie and Tommy in the living room about the events of the day. Tommy got pretty angry and was ready to go over to have a few words with Phil on his own. “It’s okay Paisan,” I said to him. “I think I scared him enough.” Tommy sat down and opened a beer. “It’s done.” I sighed, “I think I nipped Phil in the bud today. I don’t think there will be any repercussions anymore. And I don’t think this went any farther than Phil and maybe Lars Erickson. So we’ll let it go.”
We talked a few minutes longer, when there came a knock on the front door. I opened it to find two of the neighbor boys we had been playing football with just a couple of hours before. Sam McGrew and Micah Lawson.
Nice kids, both of them were Jack’s classmates.
“Well boys,” I said, “The kids are in for the night, they’ll see you tomorrow in school.” Sam shuffled his feet and sheepishly said he was actually here to see me. “Me?” I wondered, “Well what can I do for you, Sam?” Sam and Micah came into the living room and began their tale. “Last week I loaned Micah my bicycle,” Sam began, “He brought it back a day later and the back tire had a leak. It didn’t have a leak before.” I was baffled. “So, how can I help with this, Sam?” I asked. “Well my dad said to come here and ask your opinion. He said you have lots of experience settling problems and it’s a sign of respect to ask you.”
In the background I heard Angie snicker. Oh my God, I thought, I’m the friggin Godfather. I stood up and walked them to the front door. “Sam, this is for your dad to settle, not me.” I said. But poor Sam looked distraught. I got the impression that if I sent him home without settling this dispute and giving my blessing, his father would be worried about starting his car the next morning. So I looked at them both and asked; “How old was the tire when it started leaking?” Sam answered; “About two years.” “Good” I said, “So it was getting old already, and you can’t say Micah actually caused the leak?” Micah smiled and said “See! I told you Sam!” “Not so fast!” I said to Micah, “You still popped his tire. So here’s what I want you to do. Tomorrow after school you both come here and help me and the boys finish putting up the rest of our Christmas lights. Then after that you stay for dinner. Then, we go into the garage and I’ll show you how to patch a tube on a bicycle, like we did when I was a kid. Deal?” The boys smiled. I smiled. Problem solved. I waved goodbye and closed the door.
Turning to Angie and Tommy I sighed. Angie said; “You handled that well, Don Mezilli.” I paused for a moment, slumped my shoulders, and in a bad Pacino voice, smiled, and said; “Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in!”
______________
Across the street, Phil Lowery’s cell phone rang. Phil sat in his kitchen in the dark, smoking his pipe. He answered on the second ring, as he’d been instructed. “This is Elliot Ness.” Said the voice on the other end of the line. Phil squinted into the darkness, set his pipe down and said, “This is Preparation H” using the code name given him by the agent. “I figured you’d be callin,’ what the hell happened over there? I thought this was it!” The voice was mysterious; “Your neighbor is better at this than I thought. He’s got friends. But this isn’t over. No sir.
This is not over…”
The End