Wiseguys In Love

by C. Clark Criscuolo

  She could hear it now: “I lived with a man for four years in an unmarried state and I shot some guy to death in an office in Brooklyn.”

  She couldn’t imagine where she’d get sent for murder, and she didn’t want to know.

  And then the thought occurred to her that it didn’t matter anyway, because she was never going to see Bliss again.

  This had all just gone far enough. The fact was that she should have called the police back, or at least someone else in the police department. There must have been someone out there who would have taken her seriously. I could handle this: The pious thought she had had echoed in her head. Who had she been kidding? These guys had guns. But had she even thought about that? Had she even considered it? No! Instead, she just went off on some fantasy. She was reprimanding herself, and then it settled in her head; it was enough. This all was going to end right now.

  She cleared her throat. Michael looked over at her. She looked at him with an odd expression.

  “You can drop me at the police station.”

  “What?” he said.

  “I didn’t hear that. What she want?” Tony asked.

  “Drop me at a police station. I’m going to turn myself in.”

  Lisa was thrown against Michael as Tony veered the car onto the sidewalk and slammed on the brakes. As she pushed Michael off, Tony turned around, switched on the overhead light, and stared at her like she was from outer space.

  “What you say?”

  “I’m going to turn myself in.”

  “Fahcrissakes, why?” Tony asked, obviously mystified.

  She stared back at him with the same incredulous expression. “I just killed a man.”

  “Yeah…” Tony said, waiting for her to continue.

  “I just killed someone.”

  Tony blinked.

  “I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to cause any more pain than I have. I don’t want to have the police looking for me. I just want to turn myself in.”

  “Mikey, help me on this,” Tony said, staring at him.

  Michael looked over at her and finally cleared his voice. “Don’t you think it was self-defense?” he offered weakly.

  “Aw-what?” Tony groaned and stared at him, then turned back to Michigan. “Look, honey, you got him fair and square. You done good. He was nothin’ but a no-good thief—”

  “I shot him—”

  “Yeah, yeah, like I said, you done good. Now you can’t turn yourself in to the cops. You’d insult them. And you’d set a bad example. They wouldn’t know what to do wid youse, capisce?”

  “No,” she said after a moment.

  “Aw Christ, don’t you understand nothin’? Look, their job is to catch you, right?”

  “Yeah—”

  “That’s how they feed their families, see?”

  She nodded and glanced at Michael, confused. He shrugged, and they both looked back to Tony, whose face was all tied up into an expression that could only be described as agony.

  “So what happens to their families if everybody who did somethin’ turned themselves in, huh? They’d be out jobs. Their kids would starve; they’d have to move out to the country. It would be a mess. Plus, if you just turn yourself in, it’d be like you didn’t think they was smart enough to catch you on their own, see? So now, you got ’em unemployed, and insulted ’cause you gonna turn yourself in for killin’ a rat-bastard thief?” Tony shook his head at her.

  “I…” she murmured. “I didn’t think…” Her voice trailed off. Michael sat silent, trying to run through Tony’s logic.

  Tony turned back around front and pulled the car back into the street.

  “Well, we all can’t think of everything, right, Mikey? As long as you got it straight now. Jeez, turn yourself in … that’s crazy. You know how many of them guys would be unemployed in this city? Must be a hundred thousand of ’em.”

  He muttered to himself, shaking his head, and turned the car down to Hester Street and parked. He swung himself out, walked around, and opened the door for Michigan. She darted a glance at Michael and allowed Tony to help her out of the car. Michael walked behind them, watching Tony carefully.

  “You like braciola?”

  “I don’t know what it is,” she said, confused, and suddenly she felt very tired. Michael grimaced as Tony put his arm through hers as they walked down the small, winding street toward Forlini’s.

  “They don’t have braciola where you come from? Jeez. What do youse people eat up there in Canada?”

  They walked along to the restaurant, Tony almost holding Lisa up and Michael walking silently behind.

  Tony pulled a chair out for Michigan and made sure she was comfortable. Michael watched him intensely. There was something brewing in Tony’s mind about her. It was something that Michael was not too thrilled with.

  “You want a nice antipast’?” he asked, smiling at her.

  “I really don’t think I could—”

  “You’ll feel better if you eat. I’ll order a hot and a cold for youse to try.”

  “Tony, I don’t think she’s hungry—” Michael began, but he was cut off by Tony’s glare.

  “Don’t you gotta call your mother?” Tony asked, leaning forward.

  “What?”

  “Wasn’t your mother makin’ trota for youse?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Jeez, ain’t you got no manners? I told her I’d have you home early,” Tony said, motioning with his head that he wanted Michael to leave the table.

  Michael glanced at Michigan, who moved her head ever so slightly and looked panicked, as though if he left her alone with Tony, she would die.

  “Mikey, call you mother,” Tony ordered. “It’s ten o’clock at night.”

  Michael shrugged and stood up. Lisa watched, terrified, as he walked away. Tony looked back at her and smiled.

  “You got good aim. Where you say you come from?” he asked softly, smiling at her.

  * * *

  Michael went over to the maître d’ and asked for the phones. He was directed to the small entryway. He stood in front of a phone and looked at his watch. Through the plate-glass doorway, he could see Michigan and Tony at the table. He watched the waiter bring over two glasses of what he knew was cola. He stared at Tony, who was talking and smiling at her.

  That was all he needed. He walked back inside the restaurant and over to the table. He leaned down and looked at Tony.

  “My mother wants to talk to you,” he said quietly.

  Tony looked up, stunned. “Your mother wants to talk to me? What I do?” Tony stood up and looked at Michigan. “Youse don’t go anywhere. We’ll be right over there,” he said, pointing to the phone.

  They walked back out to the entryway. Before he could stop him, Tony had picked up the receiver.

  “They ain’t nobody on the other end,” Tony said, hanging up the phone.

  “I just wanted to talk to you. Listen, what are we going to do about Michigan?”

  “Whadda you mean? We gonna give Solly the stuff we got from Giuseppe, and, when they discover the body, she’ll collect the money and you’ll—”

  “I’m not doing any more, Tony.”

  “What?” he asked, staring at him.

  “I’m not making my bones. I can’t do it. You saw me back there. I don’t belong.”

  There was a stunned silence from Tony.

  “Aw, he’s not gonna like that.”

  “Can you fix it?”

  Tony’s eyes crossed.

  “I don’t know, Mikey, you know a lot.… I never asked nothin’ like this of Solly before.”

  Michael stood silently.

  “Maybe you’re being too hard on yourself,” Tony offered. “Maybe you just need some practice.”

  Michael shook his head.

  “I thought you liked ridin’ wid me,” Tony said after a moment.

  Michael stared up at him.

  “I like riding with you fine, Tony. But I just can’t do what you do.… What are we
gonna do about Michigan?”

  “Whadda you mean?”

  “Solly said to whack her, remember?”

  Tony’s jaw dropped, and Michael watched him look through the glass to where she was.

  “Madonna, I forgot.”

  He watched Tony turn and stare at her in silence for a moment.

  “Jeez, everything’s all screwed up, huh, Mikey?”

  “Yeah.… Look, I was thinking. We were supposed to ice her along with Giuseppe, right? So she couldn’t tell anyone I shot him, right?” Tony nodded. “But then she shot him, so … how could she rat on herself?”

  It seemed to make perfect sense to Tony.

  “That’s right. She got nothing on us. Now, we got something on her. And as long as she’s straightened out on how the cops work…”

  “So why don’t we just call it even, and Solly won’t be the worse for wear, huh? It’s not like we’re going to lie to him; we just won’t mention the girl. Solly probably won’t even remember about her.”

  Tony looked back inside and then back at Michael.

  * * *

  Lisa sat through dinner, watching Tony eat, and periodically looking over at Michael. She began to assess them both.

  She liked looking at Michael. She had felt oddly safe with him from the moment he had looked away, embarrassed, in Mrs. Morelli’s apartment and on the Brooklyn Bridge. Even in the office, when Tony was trying to force Michael to shoot, she knew he wouldn’t do it. She didn’t know how he’d gotten mixed up in all this, but he was either a very decent human being or an unbelievably incompetent gangster. She felt strangely attracted to him and …

  She stopped herself, feeling her jaw tighten. Attractive or not, this man had held a gun on her. Now what? Maybe she was turning into one of those sick women who liked that sort of thing.… Naw. Her eyes darted to Tony.

  Tony, on the other hand, was from another planet. Tony’s reasoning about turning herself in had just about worn her down mentally. Michael was right, it had been self-defense, but … It was as if she didn’t care anymore. Screw the mortgage. She was going to quit her job and get as far away from this city as possible.

  Tony excused himself, finally, and Lisa looked over at Michael.

  “What are you going to do now?” she asked tiredly.

  Michael smiled at her. “We’re going to go back to Mulberry Street, and then I think we’ll let you go. You have to promise never to say a word about this.”

  She looked at him and took a deep breath. As she exhaled, every single worry and thought about Henry Foster Morgan vanished. He was on his own. They had worn her down. She just wanted to get back home and be quiet. She was definitely leaving this city forever on Monday.

  “All right, you have my word,” she said, and looked at him. She gave him a weak smile. “Thank you for protecting me back there.”

  * * *

  Tony threw the passbooks down on Solly’s desk, and Michael watched him pick them up, smirk, and look back up to Tony. He took the passport out of his pocket and added it to the pile. Solly picked it up. His stocky face and bulbous nose were the vision of sheer enjoyment. Solly was savoring the kill as though he had personally pulled the trigger. He then looked over at Michael.

  “You done good. Where you leave him?”

  “In his office.”

  Solly sat back in his chair, touching his fingertips together. “Okay. That’s good. It’ll be a warning.… You done good, Mikey,” he said, and leaned forward in his chair.

  He slid open his desk drawer and threw an envelope on the table. He nodded to Tony, who picked it up.

  “Half. Until they find the body,” he added as Tony opened it up.

  They nodded and began to turn to leave.

  “Now you take care of Rosa’s problem.”

  Tony’s eyes slid over to Michael, who looked at him. He turned back to Solly.

  “I, uh…” Tony stammered.

  “What did you do with the girl’s body?” Solly added, and Tony began to rock slowly back and forth.

  “Well, um…”

  Michael watched Solly’s smile turn into a frown as he leaned forward.

  “You did take care of the girl, right, Tony?”

  “Well, you see, Solly—” Tony began, but Michael broke in.

  “Look, Solly—”

  “Mikey didn’t exactly shoot Giuseppe,” Tony broke in.

  “What are you sayin’ to me? Giuseppe ain’t dead?” Solly asked loudly, and stood up.

  “No, no, he’s dead. Dead as a dog. It’s just that … Mikey didn’t exactly—”

  “Say what you’re saying,” he ordered.

  “I didn’t shoot him—the girl did,” Michael said quickly, and they watched Solly’s eyes get large and popping and then narrow as he sat back down.

  “Say this again?”

  “Well, I was getting ready to shoot him—”

  “He was, he was, Solly. He just forgot to take the safety off—”

  “And that’s when we seen Michigan—”

  “Who?”

  “The girl, that’s when she seen he had a gun on him, and she grabbed it and shot him.”

  A roll of Rolaids appeared from the desk drawer and Solly stared at them both.

  “Who the hell is this broad?”

  “She’s nobody. She’s from outta town.”

  “WHATSA MATTER WID YOUSE? Outta town or not, she’s gotta go, and you, Mikey…” he began, snatching the envelope out of Tony’s hands.

  “But—”

  “You tried to pull a fast one, and I don’t like it. I know this ain’t Tony’s idea, College, and I’ll let you slide on account of Vincent was your father, but now you owe me, Mikey.… Go take care of the sonofabeech for Rosa and then I’ll decide what happens. Where is the girl?”

  “They brought her out front, Solly,” Ralphie informed him.

  “Take care of her.”

  “But, Solly,” Michael began, and took a deep breath, “we need her to get to the boss.”

  “Fine, then get to the boss, do ’em both, and I don’t wanna hear no more.”

  Tony was just about to say something when Ralphie came up behind him and opened the door.

  They walked out stiffly and Michigan stood up. She followed Michael out the door. He shot a glance back inside, in time to see Louie whispering something in Tony’s ear. He watched Tony’s chin drop and his eyes bulge. Something Tony’d just been told was making him irate. It was hard to tell from Tony’s face that he was burning up, but Michael knew it from all his years with his cousin.

  “Goddamn it!” Tony was tearing down Mulberry toward Grand, with Michael following him, and pulling Michigan by the hand.

  “Tony—”

  “A-fah-na-bla! Fourteen grand—”

  “Tony—”

  “SHUT UP,” he yelled, and unlocked the car door.

  “What’s happening?” Lisa asked as she was pushed back inside. “Can I go?”

  Michael just stared at her, and she looked down. “Oh.”

  The car squealed out of the parking space. They were all quiet for a moment.

  “All right, where the fuck will what’s-his-name be?” Tony barked, driving across Canal toward Sixth Avenue.

  “I won’t tell you,” she said quietly.

  “Fine, Mikey, we’re going to every place on the list.”

  “Aw come on, Tony, it’ll take all night.”

  “Listen, did you hear Solly back there? He ain’t happy, and when he ain’t happy, I ain’t happy. It’s only midnight. Now, where’s that book?”

  “Right here.”

  “What’s the first place on the list?”

  “Some political thing.”

  “Good, what’s the address?”

  “It’s on Fourteenth Street, a place called Maude’s.”

  “Maude’s?” Lisa said, then caught herself. She sat back in the seat.

  “What do you know about this place?”

  “Nothing—”

 
“Tell me now,” he ordered, and Michael looked into the backseat at her.

  “Fine. I’ll tell you what I know about Maude’s. You’ll never get in there, so I wouldn’t even try,” Lisa heard herself snap.

  “Yeah? Why not?”

  “They have these huge guys at the door who don’t let anyone inside. You have to have a membership or know someone to get in.”

  “Yeah? Well, I know someone.”

  Tony pulled the car up in front of the unmarked building on Fourteenth Street by making a screeching U-turn. A long line of people, very dressed up and some looking bored, others angry, stared out at the car. If it hadn’t been for the line, there wouldn’t have been anyone on the block.

  Tony got out, and Michael came around to get Lisa.

  “I’m sorry. It almost worked,” he began to explain softly as he got her out of the car.

  “Just leave me alone.” Her voice was terse and strained.

  “Come on, I really did try, Michigan—”

  She stopped and glared. “My name is Lisa. All right?”

  He stared at her in her small print dress, still in her sneakers and the socks with the little pom-poms on the heel, and he suddenly felt cowed by her.

  “All right, Lisa.”

  “Thank you,” she said curtly.

  She was feeling too tired to be afraid anymore.

  Tony stopped at the front of the line.

  “Oh Jeez,” Michael said, grabbing her by the arm. “Here we go.”

  Tony banged with his fist on the black door, and after a minute it slammed open and a muscle-bound man in a large white T-shirt, stomped out.

  “Who did that?” he demanded.

  Tony pushed him backward through the open door as Michael and Lisa followed. Michael closed the door behind them and they stood in the dark hallway to the club. Tony towered over the man in the T-shirt.

  “We’re going inside to look for someone, capisce?” he said, pulling the bouncer up by his shirt.

  “You’ve got to be joking. No one but members—”

  Tony pulled his gun out, then cocked it while the barrel was against the bouncer’s temple.

  “This is my membership. Now, you stay quiet a couple of minutes and no one gets hurt,” he said, and pushed inside.