“Listen, before you go home, stop at Junior’s and tell him to stay off the street and wait for me to call him. I’ll go up and call him now but just in case I can’t reach him. Tell him what Melo told you. Alright?”
“Yeah, no problem. We’re going to go back at those guys, right?”
“Yeah, Betty, we are. But we have to be smart about it or one of us will get killed. And you don’t have to worry about it. This is something Junior and I can handle. You’re not involved.”
“I am now.” Betty said. “Whether they like it or not.”
“Go, I’ll call Junior.”
So I go upstairs and use the phone in Rainie’s room. The phone rings and I have to talk to Junior’s mother for like ten minutes. At least that’s what it felt like. She wants to know how the prom was. How the girls looked, everything. Not that I could understand half of what she was saying, or anything. You know how you say some people speak in what sounds like broken English, well she spoke broken Italian with a little broken English mixed in. If I were standing in front of her, I just kept nodding and smiling. On the phone, trust me, it was harder.
Finally Junior picked up. “What?” He said. “I’m sleeping already.”
“It’s the afternoon.” I said. “Wake up, we have to talk.”
“So talk to me, I’m listening.”
“Meet me at Soldano’s in half an hour. I don’t want to talk on the phone. My mother is here.”
“I’m sleeping, come on. Marty and I decided to go to the motel after we dropped you off. That girl, let me tell you…”
Yeah, I thought, tell me. “Listen, it’s important. I’m serious. Melo jumped Betty last night. Fucked him up good.”
“What?” Junior said.
“You heard me. Melo broke his nose and then as he’s leaving says he going to kill us.”
Junior yawned loudly into the phone. “Alright. I’ll be there. Better yet, I’ll meet you at your house and we’ll walk over there and get a calzone, or something, I’ll bring the gun, so don’t worry about anything. We see this fuck, I’ll shoot his other foot off and then we’ll just push him over like a rotting fence.”
“Just ring the bell when you get here. I’ll come down. You driving?”
“No, I sold the car to Marty’s brother this morning for fifty bucks. I figure it was getting too hot.”
“Ring the bell, then. And watch yourself, will you.”
“How can I watch myself? You can’t watch yourself. But I’m telling you something; you should have seen me last night at the motel. I mean, not to brag or anything but…”
“Just be careful.”
I took a shower and threw on some clothes and went into the living room to sit and put my sneakers on. My mother was sleeping on the couch. As she slept, she was clenching and unclenching her fist. It was like she was exercising. When her fingers extended, I noticed that two of them were stained yellow from smoking. After I got my shoes on, I went back to my room and tucked a two-pound sap into the waistband of my pants. It was a leather-covered piece of flexible metal that if swung properly would knock down anything that walked on two legs, including Melo, I hoped.
While I waited, I thought about what to do. The logical thing was to go see Big Mike and tell him that Melo was coming back at us. Tell him what they did to Betty and what Melo said. In the meantime, like starting right now, Junior and I had to be careful, really careful. The truth of it was, Melo had about ten guys in his crew and maybe another ten that came and went. If you include the girls they hung out with and their friends, you had about fifty people that would drop a dime on us if we weren’t smart. Add that to the fact that nobody ever dropped Betty, ever. Even if he wasn’t looking and I knew we were in deep shit until something was figured out.
When the buzzer rang, I went out the door and while I was locking it I felt the barrel of a gun against the back of my head. “Don’t move.” Someone said in a funny kind of cartoon voice that sounded like “Felix the Cat”.
“Don’t fuck around Junior. I’m serious.” The voice mimicked my words before dissolving into laughter. When I turned around Junior was standing there laughing. “You like these pants?” He asked. “I think they are a little girlish.” He pointed to the stitching on the seams. “Not sure I like the color.”
“Put that away before someone sees it, will you.”
“So tell me, at least. You like these pants?”
“Yeah. Yeah. Whatever. They’re nice. What do you want me to say?”
“I saw Mrs. Numbers outside. Looked like she was going to the store. She had her cart with her.”
“You see anyone on the way over here?” I asked.
“J just told you, I saw Mrs. Numbers downstairs. What, she doesn’t count?”
“I mean like anyone we know. Like maybe the people that might be trying to kill us. You know what I’m talking about?’
“Fuck them.” Junior said. “One way or the other this will get handled. I’m telling you. Let’s go get a calzone. I’m starving. Then, we’ll go find Big Mike and settle this thing. Which I’m beginning to think is going to end up with a bullet in fucking Melo’s head. I’m just saying.”
“Why would they whack Melo for us? I mean, we’re just kids, or whatever. We’re not really connected.”
Junior pointed to his head. “You got to think like them. Listen, it’s not about us anymore. Nope. It’s about them. Melo disrespected them. Fuck us at this point. We don’t matter. What counts is that Big Mike told Melo the score, plain and simple. What’s Melo do? He just fucking ignores him, like Big Mike is just another guy. I say Melo is dead.”
What Junior was saying made sense, but it still didn’t prevent me from looking around nervously as we walked. “The thing is, is that Melo is so fucking thick. I don’t even think he cares. That’s what scares me the most. I mean, this guy is a fucking nut job. He doesn’t know when to walk away.”
“Those are the kind of guys that carried out of the house feet first. Remember Timmy Lazzo, the kid that stole one of the Gambino kids’ car. They caught him and beat him down. That was the warning. There wasn’t a second one, right? Lazzo goes back there a couple of weeks later and takes another car. Kid is fucking sick in the head. They catch him again, forget about it.”
“That’s the kid they found floating off of Coney Island?” I asked.
“You bet it was. And I knew a guy at the hospital said that when they dragged him in that he had a hubcap nailed to each side of his head. Guy said he was alive when they did it too.”
“Oh, come on, that’s bullshit.”
“I trust the guy. Why would he lie to me? You think I could make this shit up? What? The hubcaps?”
The first shot cracked off part of a tree limb above our heads. Junior pulled me down behind a car and crouched over me with the gun out. I pulled the sap out of my waistband and sat looking at it stupidly for a second. What was I thinking? I was just about to throw it under the car when Junior grabs my arm and says, “Let’s go.”
I followed him as he got up and ran and then crashed into his back when he stopped and shot at a car parked across the street. The back window exploded but I didn’t see anyone in the car. Junior yelled something and turned to me laughing, “Did you see that?” I pushed at him, encouraging him to run and we tore around the corner. A bullet clipped one of those concrete planters next to me, and the chips cut into my forearm.
We ran down a driveway and hopped a fence before turning to look behind us. No one was there. I kneeled in the grass, trying to catch my breath. My arm was bleeding but it was just a scratch. “I didn’t see anyone, did you?” I said, before licking my arm.
“I thought I saw that fuck, Melo. I’m not sure, though.”
“What were you shooting at?”
“What do you mean?”
“You shot that car, right? Were they inside it?”
Junior pulled himself up by gripping the fence. “Let’s go back the way we came. They’re gone now, I think.” Juni
or said.
“Yeah, but the cops might be out there. Somebody might have called. Hide the gun back here somewhere and we’ll come back and get it later.” Junior though for a second before looking around to make sure no one was watching us and put the gun behind a cracked statue that was leaning on its side.
“It’s the fucking Madonna,” I said. “Bad luck to hide it there.”
“Why are these people just letting it sit out here like this. If it’s broken they should bury it or something, right? Bring it to church, I don’t know…”
“Just put the gun somewhere, would you. We’ll walk around the block and if there are no cops snooping around we’ll come back and get it.” I said.
“It only has three bullets left. I didn’t bring extras. Like I wasn’t expecting to be in a shoot-out today.” He patted his pockets to confirm what he was saying. “I got some gum, though. You want a piece?” He held up a half-eaten pack of Dentyne. “Best gum there is, this stuff.”
“Let’s pay attention here. Remember there were guys just shooting at us?” I said.
“Yeah, they’re gone, trust me. What do you think, they’re still out there picking up their bullets, or something? They’re stupid mooks but not that stupid.”
“This is fucked up, Junior. I don’t mind a lot of things but being shot at is pushing it.”
And it was pushing it. I had to put my hands in my pockets because they were shaking. Not that I was embarrassed or anything by being scared. It was just that seeing my hands shake made it worse somehow. Like not only was I scared but I could also see myself being scared. It was some kind of double-whammy. If I was looking around before, now I was really looking. I mean, my eyes were popping out of my head and my head was turning like one of those submarine periscopes you see in the old war movies.
“We got to pay attention more.” I said. “They came up on us and we didn’t notice a thing. The other thing is, we have to find Big Mike and stop this, like right now. Today. You know what I’m saying?”
“I’m hungry. First let’s get a calzone. We’ll walk around the block, check things out and then go back and get the gun. Then we go to Soldano’s and have some food and then we’ll go find Big Mike. And stop shaking, you’re making me nervous.”
“I’m not shaking.” I said half-heartedly. “So what? Maybe, I am. What the fuck, Junior? Somebody was just trying to kill us.”
“Look.” I held up my arm, “I’m wounded.” I guess I was trying to make myself laugh and it worked. It worked on Junior too and he started laughing. “Wounded my ass.”
When he finished laughing his face became serious-looking. “You know, come to think of it, I think I saw that Vietnam vet that Melo hangs out with. You know, the guy that wears the army jacket all the time.”
“He hangs out with Melo, too?” I asked.
“Yeah, what’s his name again? Something like Paulie… Pailie Paz, or something?”
“Yeah, Paulie Pazolini. I didn’t know he ran with Melo. We fucked up his little brother and his friends when we were kids, remember?”
Junior scratched his head. “No, what did we do?”
“Remember that time when we found that can of white paint?”
“Oh yeah. You mean the day it was snowing?”
“Yup. We painted the snow in the park and then these little kids came along and we told them to make snow angels.”
“Junior was shaking his head. “That was some funny shit. Those kids ruined their winter coats. I remember Mrs. Galante complaining to my mother. She wanted her to buy Jimmy Galante a new coat. I remember my mother blamed it on you before telling her to fuck off.”
“Oh, that’s why she came to my house. I remember that. This was before my father was in jail. He was home when she came by and when she rang the bell she was holding the coat. I remember him laughing and laughing. Not even trying to stop. He gave her fifty bucks and when she leaves he turns to me and says… well, he didn’t say anything, he just starts laughing. I thought he was go to smack me, or something. Instead he hands me five bucks and tells me not to spend it on paint.”
“See, your father was a stand up guy.” Junior said.
“What’s the rule, Junior? We don’t talk about him, right?”
“What? You just were saying…”
“Ah, forget it.” I said. “Funny I should remember that.”
“Maybe all the shooting triggered that. Get it? All the shooting, the triggers?”
“A joke isn’t funny if you have to explain it.” I said.
By this time, we had walked around the block. I stood in the driveway while Junior trotted into the yard and grabbed the gun. As he walked back toward me he held it up before tucking it into his pants and covering it with his shirt. I was struck by how much he looked like a gangster and like how none of this stuff bothered him. It was what he signed on for. This was how it was supposed to be. You could even look at him and think he enjoyed it. The whole thing just annoyed me. “What’s a matter with you?” I said. “You’re not supposed to be liking this. People are shooting at us and you’re fucking dancing around like Fred Astaire.”
“Who the fuck is Fred Astaire? And what are you talking about all of a sudden? I’m not dancing.”
“Maybe not. But you like this, don’t you? You think it’s just a big joke.”
Junior put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “Listen, lighten up, will you. Yeah, I do think this is fun. So what do you want from me. Should I be sitting there, somewhere on Long Island doing whatever the fuck you do on Long Island. Like, maybe… I don’t even fucking know. I’m here, right smack in the middle of Brooklyn. What do you want? And now what, you’re some kind of saint already. If I’m not mistaken, we’re like brothers and have been since we’re little, right? We do everything together, so how am I different than you? What are you saying here? And you know what? This whole thing started over Rainie, right? And last time I checked she wasn’t my sister.”
“That’s not the point. I’m not talking about how this started. You know if this was your sister I would be right there, right? We’re walking around with a gun and getting shot at. When did this get like this? What the fuck are we doing? That’s all I’m saying.”
He didn’t say anything. He was kicking a rock up the street as we walked. I was waiting but knew that when Junior wanted to be quiet he could. When he got like this his whole face shut down, like he was frozen or something. “What’s the matter?” I asked him.
He just shook his head and kept walking. “All right, I’ll just keep lookout while you sulk. What I’m looking for is another question. Could be anything—a car. Whatever. Maybe, three guys coming out of an apartment hallway. I’ll just stumble along next to the deaf mute that is my best friend. He’s bulletproof, so what’s he care. Me, they go right in, so I’m keeping my eyes open. Oh, and from what everyone says, they hurt too. Like getting hit with a bat, knocks the breath out of you—sometimes for good. Ruins your clothes too. Puts holes in them and all the blood and shit. Plus, when you get to the hospital, they cut everything off you. Remember when Betty got shot in the arm? Bullet knocked him down. Only two things in the world have ever knocked Betty down, Melo and a bullet. Now maybe, you ask, who is Melo? Well he’s the guy trying to kill you, remember? And he’s the same guy trying to kill me. What a coincidence, right? Imagine that. Think how lucky we are. It’s like one in a million, like hitting the number. I guess it’s something we share. And speaking of sharing, I was thinking that maybe one night we should take the girls to the hotel in Sheepshead Bay and get a room and maybe, you know, switch things up. You know, you could be with Erica and I could be with Marty. Might be fun, change things up. That is if we’re not killed first. We could get high and have some drinks. Just get totally relaxed.”
Brooklyn 1975 Page 8