I looked at Angela and our eyes met. She didn’t seem to care one way or the other, not that I could tell anyway. Maybe she was stoned. Or maybe I didn’t really know her yet, which I didn’t. Junior was smirking and by now, Maria was sitting on his lap.
We all got up and walked down the stairs as quietly as we could. When we came down from the roof, an old lady opened her apartment door and stood there looking at us. The girls were friendly and said hello and as we passed her. Junior said to Angela, “One of your customers?”
“Very funny.”
The apartment was nice, sort of like a girl’s bedroom everywhere and a little dog was leaping around excitedly. This is “The Mayor” Maria said.
“Why does she call him “The Mayor” I asked.
“Because when she’s walking him everyone wants to stop and say hello. Everyone around here loves this dog. Which reminds me, I have to take him out before he pees in here. You come with me, Junior.”
“And you two”, she was pointing at me and Angela, “If you are going to use the bed, stay on top of the covers. This is my aunt’s house, remember.”
I sort of looked away embarrassed and nodded my head. Angela didn’t say anything. Suddenly it occurred to me that we had other lives, like ones where people were chasing us. “Pay attention out there, Junior. You know, that other stuff.”
Junior brushed me off. “What? Everything is fine.”
“What other stuff”” Angela asked. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing.” Junior said. “He gets paranoid when he’s high, that’s all.”
She looked at me and rolled her eyes. “What stuff?” She asked.
“I’ll tell you later.” I said. “You want to listen to music? I’ll put something on. What do you like?”
“She’s got a Dylan record I like. I’ll put it on. You like Dylan?”
“Yeah.” I lied.
“What’s the matter? You don’t like Dylan, or something. You look funny.”
“Actually I think he can’t really sing much, you know, really sing at all. I like what he sings about though, I mean, the words. You know, the lyrics.”
Angela put her hand on my cheek. “You know he’s a poet.”
“Yeah, so maybe he should stick to writing, the singing—not so much.”
She just looked at me before turning and crouching down to look through the records, which were on a shelf near the floor. She took the record out of the sleeve and handed me the cover. I just held it without looking at it. I watched as she put the record on the turntable and then fiddled with some knobs. A soft buzz floated out of the speakers before she moved the needle onto the record. Then she turned toward me and lifted her shirt over her head as Dylan began to sing, if you call that singing.
Her hips were swaying as pulled the straps of her bra down and turned it around to unhook it. When it was off, she held it in her hand before dropping it to the floor. I didn’t know what to look at and looked at the bra, then at her, and then back at the bra. She had small breasts that sat perfectly over the curve of her belly. I tried to think of something to say but I was beyond tongue-tied. A snowman would have had more to say. Anyway, before you know it, she’s kicking off her shoes and unbuttoning her pants. I mean, I can’t believe this is happening, right. And all this with Dylan sounding like a stuck pig in the background. At least he had something to say, I thought to myself.
Finally, we’re just standing there and she’s completely naked, which is fine, trust me. But she’s not smiling or giggling like other girls would. She’s kind of like in a trance. I’m not scared or nothing, it’s just weird.
So, she takes my hand and leads me to the bedroom. When we’re beside the bed, she puts her hands on my shoulders and gently pushes me down on the bed. When I’m lying flat she straddles me and I look up at her and say “What.”
It was the only thing I could think of. So she waits for like a minute and leans down close to my face and says, “What’s your girlfriend’s name?”
I must have been turning red or something because I could feel my face burning. It was like all that heat kept the words inside me prisoner, kind of like a wall of flame. I was paralyzed. She was so close to me that I couldn’t look away.
“I said, what’s your girlfriend’s name. I see you two together at school all the time. She seems nice, is all I’m saying. What’s her name?”
“Erica.” I mumbled. “What are you doing all this for if you already knew I had a girlfriend?”
She sat back up and tucked her hair behind her ears. “Because I want to be your girlfriend, what do you think? But that isn’t possible at the moment, is it? You can’t have two girlfriends at once.”
“No, I guess you can’t.” I said.
“You weren’t going to tell me about her, were you?”
“No, probably not. I mean, all this is sort of happening so fast. One minute we’re in the pizza place and the next thing you know, well, you’re sitting here on top of me, like naked. I can’t say I’ve really had time to think about much.”
She got off of me and went over to the dresser and wrote something on a piece of paper. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. “Here, this is my number. When you break up with your girlfriend, not that she’s not a nice girl, call me.”
Just then I could hear the apartment door open. A woman’s voice, almost as raspy as Dylan’s called out, “Maria.”
Angela looked at me and shrugged. She covered her breasts with her hands and told me to stay where I was but get off the bed. I got up and went to the window to see if there was a fire escape I could climb down but there wasn’t one. So I just stood by the door listening.
“Jesus Christ, Angela. What the fuck? Where’s Maria?”
“She’s out with the dog. What do you think?”
“What do I think? The voice rasped. “What do I think? Just that you’re standing here naked in front of me. I come home early from work because I’m not feeling well, have cramps and everything, and your standing here naked. Plus, you’re listening to this shit, this fucking Dylan or whoever he is.”
“He’s a poet.” I heard Angela say. “I’m sorry, I mean, I’ll get dressed.”
“Who’s in the bedroom?”
“Just a friend. I’ll tell him to leave.”
A friend? You mean your boyfriend?”
“No, he’s just my friend.”
“And you’re naked like this and he’s just a friend? What is this? Are you stupid or something?”
Angela opened the bedroom door and I almost fell out into the living room. “Hi.” I said, trying to appear to be somewhat collected. “Sorry about this. I know it looks bad but we weren’t doing anything. We were just talking.”
“And what, while you were talking her clothes fell off? What do you think I was born yesterday? You think I’m from Queens or something? Angela, get dressed.”
“You.” She was pointing at me, “You get the fuck out of here right now before I call the cops.”
I held the piece of paper up in the air in Angela’s direction but she didn’t notice because she was putting her jeans on. “Like I said, I’m really sorry.”
“Get out of here before I cut your balls off.”
I thought about taking the elevator but ran down the stairs instead. When I got down to the lobby I looked outside but there was no sign of Junior and Maria. That fucking dog must be pretty popular. “The Mayor.” What shit! What were they talking to everyone in Brooklyn? Maybe the dog was running for office. When I stick my head out the door again, I see them coming around the corner. Junior has a slice of pizza crushed into a paper plate that he’s waving around while he talks.
I wait till they get closer until I step out on the apartment house stairs. “Hey, Maria. Your aunt is home.”
What? It’s still early. She doesn’t get home till six usually.”
“Today’s not usually. She’s feeling sick. Cramps or something.”
“She told you that?”
No, no she told Angela. You better get up there. I think she’s mad.”
“Did she walk in on you, you know, doing stuff?”
“No but Angela was undressed.” I said.
“Holy shit! I’m screwed. She’ll tell my mother and my mother will tell her mother. And guess what? Her mother will tell her father. You know who her father is? Fucking Vito Gambela, that’s who.” Maria was shaking her head.
Junior, who was saying anything up till this point started to moan. “You mean that Vito Gambela?”
“How many other Vito Gambelas are there in Brooklyn.” Maria said.
The air just sort of poured out of me. “Why didn’t you say something Junior? I thought you knew every wise guy in Brooklyn?”
“I do but do you think I know every member of their family? Like their kids, too?”
“Vito Gambela.”
Chapter Four
“We’re like magnets for shit happening, I swear.” I said, as we walked down the street toward the Motor Service. “What could possibly happen next?”
“What are you talking about? She was cute, she was naked, you were there, come on. What more do you want? So what if she’s Vito’s kid. What’s he going to say, anyway? She’s a girl. Girls like guys. You’re a guy. What’s the big deal? Fuck Vito.”
“You fuck Vito. The big deal is that they know but they don’t want to know. Once they know, for like, like sure, that’s no good. And how would you like Vito knocking on your door, Vito and a few of his guys. Not so good, right. You know his reputation, everyone does.”
“That’s true.” Junior said, “He’s a violent guy and he wants it known on the street that he is. Solves problems before they arise, know what I’m saying? That’s how it works. You know the guy will kill you as soon as look at you, you keep your mouth shut. Don’t make a problem.”
“Thanks, Junior. I mean really, thanks.”
This is just what I needed. Now I have two of the biggest nut jobs in Brooklyn looking for me. And what did I do? Nothing? With Melo, I can see. But again, what did I do? He hit my sister. What’s he expect? Maybe he thinks I should send him a card asking him nicely to stop. Like, use his words, all eight or nine of them. Now Vito, this guy is a heavy. Right out of central casting. People say he’s whacked about ten, fifteen people, most of them with a baseball bat. So whacked is an accurate description, right?”
“Fuck, I just hope that Big Mike is there so we can fix this Melo thing at least. We need to check off something today.” I said.
“Don’t worry.” Junior said. “We’ll talk to Big Mike and get this one thing squared away. Look, maybe Maria’s aunt won’t say anything. You never know. Might be too embarrassed, or something. You can’t predict how these things turn out. With Melo we know. He’ll just keep coming at us, that’s how he is.”
A couple of guys were sitting outside the Motor Service. They were younger guys, older than us but still young. I knew one of them and asked, “Hey Timmy, you see Big Mike around.”
He shrugged and pointed at the door “Check inside, I just got here.”
We went in. The main room was filled with cigar smoke and most of it seemed to be coming from an old guy named Dom the Clip. He looked up at us when we came in and smiled. “We already bought the Girl Scout cookies this year, what do you want?”
“We’re just looking for Big Mike”, I said. “We need to talk to him about something.”
“I haven’t seen him today. Ask the guys in the back, maybe they know where he is.” Dom said, pointing to the back with his cigar.
We walked past four or five soda machines that had a phone booth lying across the top of them and into the back room. A bunch of guys were sitting at a table, playing cards.
Richie Nateo, one of Big Mike’s friends looked up and saw us. “Oh, look who’s here, the football player and the firecracker. What do you know?”
This time Junior asked about Big Mike.
“He’s in Miami for a week or so. You know relaxing with his two girls.” Richie said.
Junior looked puzzled. “I didn’t know he had any kids.”
The men at the table all laughed. “He doesn’t have any kids, you fucking mulberry. He’s down there with his girls, his girls…” Richie was smirking. “You know what I’m saying?”
“Well we need to talk to him about that Melo thing.” Richie stopped me short. “Hey, we don’t talk about anything in here, never.” He was pointing around the room. “You never know, right. Come back next week, he’ll be around.”
“But Melo” Junior formed his hand into the shape of a gun and moved it up and down and mouthed the words, “Was shooting at us just a little while ago.”
Richie looked at us and then at the other guys sitting around the table. “What are you doing to do? People do what they do. Like I said, just come back next week, you talk to Mike and figure something out. In the mean time, stay in, or something. Mike don’t like to be bothered when he’s on vacation, you know what I’m saying? Nobody does.”
“Let’s go.” I tapped Junior on the shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”
Outside, Timmy grabbed me and put me in a headlock. All the other guys were standing around laughing. “Come on, Timmy.” I said, “This isn’t funny.” I was half choked and the words came out like a growl, or something. Even though I knew he was goofing around, I relaxed for a second and let his weight fall across my back before I flipped him over and put my knee in his chest. “Not today, all right. We have some shit we have to take care of.”
Even before I could finish explaining I felt an arm curl around my neck. I should have just let Timmy have his fun, let him know that I knew it was fun. But like I was saying, lately Junior and I have turned into shit magnets. Plus, I guess Timmy didn’t like being shown-up in front of his friends. Anyway, before you know it, Junior has the gun out again and this time it’s jammed into the neck of the guy who’s tugging at my neck. “Get the fuck off of him or I’ll put a hole in your fucking neck.”
The guy stands up, I didn’t know his name, and lets go of me. “Junior, what the fuck?” I said. “They were just kidding around.”
He still had the gun pushed into the guy’s neck. “Put it down.” I said.
By this time, Dom the Clip was outside. “Oh, what the fuck is this?” He was looking directly at Junior. “You put that away right now or I’ll stick it up your ass. What do you think this is, a fucking street corner in Harlem?”
“Dom, Timmy and I were just fooling around, just joking.” I said.
“Come on.” I said, helping Timmy up. I looked around and all the young guys were glaring at us. Timmy noticed them too and I guess he thought he needed to do something so he swung at me. I caught the punch with my arm and slipped around behind him and grabbed him. If I hit him, all hell would have broken loose and Junior would have shot someone. “Timmy, we’re friends, remember? Stop this shit, would you.”
One of the guys egged him on but I squeezed him tighter.
“I’m not going to say this again.” Dom glowered behind the cigar smoke. “In another second I’m going to go in there and bring out a fucking shotgun, you understand. You guys have a problem with each other take it somewhere else. But me, I don’t like to see Italians fighting with each other, not Brooklyn Italians anyway. You’re both good boys, stop this shit.”
Then he looked at Junior and just shook his head, ”You, you should know better. You’re like the Jews say—Smuck.”
Brooklyn 1975 Page 10