Wiseguys In Love

by C. Clark Criscuolo

  “So you back in the car business?”

  “Naw, this is just a special case,” he said, and turned off the ignition, took the keys, and got out.

  “How much?” Gus asked after giving the car one last going-over.

  “This one’s on me, for all the times you took what I had,” Tony said, dropping the keys into Gus’s hand.

  He watched Gus stare at the key ring.

  “Avis, huh?” Gus said as Tony walked toward the front.

  “Top of the line. Not many miles on it, neither. See youse around,” Tony added, and walked back out to Ninth Avenue.

  He stepped off the curb and hailed a cab back to the club to pick up his car. Gus would probably have the thing stripped down to nothing in twenty minutes. Now he wanted to see what fuckin’ Joey D. would do about this here thing he’d just done.

  He drove straight back to Brooklyn. Tomorrow, he was going to track down this fruitcake for Rosa if it was the last thing he did. He couldn’t waste no more time on this.

  He hummed, clicked on the radio, and listened to the early-morning news.

  Maybe there was some of that stuffed veal left he could heat up.

  * * *

  Sophia walked into her house and down the hall toward the kitchen. She tapped on Michael’s door and waited for a moment, then slowly opened it up. He hadn’t come home tonight, either. She carefully closed the door and continued into the kitchen. She put the bag down on the table and took Vincent’s old gun out of it. She put it back in the drawer with the string and scissors, muttering to herself that she should just get rid of the thing.

  She put a pot of water on the stove for coffee and sat down tiredly. She was not used to being up this late; she was too old for this. She rubbed her chin with her hand and stared at the old enameled kitchen tabletop.

  She remembered Rosa’s face as she wept about her pension and her retirement and not being able to go to Florida. It was true, she felt sorry and bad for Rosa about what this snake in her office had done, but she was hardly sorry enough to sacrifice her only son. No, there was another way out of this. Sophia glanced up at the kitchen clock, shaped like a teakettle. She couldn’t bother Gina this time of night. She wondered where Michael was and what he was doing, and she was going to go to church in an hour or two and pray he hadn’t done anything yet. And then she was going to have another long talk with Vincent, as she lit a candle for him, and try and find out what he would have done in this position.

  The coffee water was boiling, and she was drowsy as she poured it over the grounds.

  * * *

  The next morning, Lisa was washing her hair in the bathroom and Michael was adjusting his tie when room service arrived carrying a tray with coffee and juice.

  Michigan probably wouldn’t be so bad, he thought as he paid the guy and closed the door. All right, it would be cold, but what the hell, it was better than going for the big chill here in New York. He poured himself a cup of coffee and heard the water in the shower shut off.

  “Lisa, you want a cup of coffee?” he yelled in to her.

  “Yes, I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Lisa stared at her face in the mirror. She’d slept with him again. She’d thrown herself at him, something she had never done.

  God, it felt good.

  Michael sipped his coffee and looked out the window at the hot, steamy city. In the end of August in New York, a smoky film of haze always settled in, sometimes looking like fog, but all the time trapping hot, dirty air amidst the walls of skyscrapers.

  He stared out at it and then walked over and switched on the TV. He poured a cup for her as she walked out, a large white towel wrapped on her head like a turban. She kissed him and took the cup, holding it in both hands like a precious egg. She took a sip and sat down on the couch.

  “So I thought—” Michael had just begun when he heard a gasp and the sound of a breaking cup behind him. He turned and saw her, pale and shaking, standing up, pointing at the television.

  His eyes immediately darted to it. The sight of the union office building, surrounded by police cars and reporters, was staring back at him. He grabbed the remote and turned it up just as the screen flashed back to the studio. He heard the anchor say, “And now for the weather.”

  “Oh God! Oh my God!” he heard Lisa say, her voice high and panicking. He shut the thing off and grabbed her, shaking her by the shoulders.

  “Stop it! You’ve got to get a grip on yourself!” he said as loudly as he could, trying to bring her past the thoughts he knew were running through her head.

  “Michael, they found him … they found him, oh my God! I should have turned myself in. I should have done it last night—”

  “Stop it, Lisa. Just stop it,” he said, and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her.

  She was shaking all over and whimpering into his shoulder. He began to talk fast.

  “Okay, they found him, they were going to, anyway. It would have been better if they had done it on Monday—we could have gotten out of town by the time they figured out—but they haven’t figured out anything. Listen to me, Lisa. They don’t know it’s us. They don’t have anything on either one of us. All we have to do is get out of town and away from Tony and all this crap.”

  The phone rang and Lisa let out a scream and jumped to her feet, staring at it, frozen. It rang again and Michael, who had been just as paralyzed, finally snapped to and picked it up. He stood still and nodded as he listened to Tony, then hung up.

  “We’re late. He’s on his way up,” he said, staring at her.

  “He’s here?” she squeaked at him, and he gave her a rough hug.

  “Now, let’s calm down. We have to stop him fast and get out of town.”

  “We’ll never get away from this. We’ll never get out. Why didn’t I call the police? Why didn’t I go back to Michigan last year? Oh God, why didn’t I go to Connecticut, why—”

  “Yeah, why didn’t I just go back to school—but I didn’t and you didn’t. Now listen to me. I don’t want to chance sneaking out. He’ll shoot on sight if he needs to. We’re going to have to shoot him,” Michael said.

  They stared at each other, startled.

  “I can’t shoot another person, Michael. For God’s sake, I shot the last guy I—”

  “Not kill him, just maim him, to slow him down,” Michael said quickly, and they both stared at each other again.

  It wasn’t until he’d just heard it come out of his mouth that he knew it was the right thing, the only thing to do. No, he couldn’t kill his cousin. But if he could just shoot him, maybe in the leg or the arm, and then run.… Michael thought this over.

  Tony was there to pick them up and go back down to the loft on Grand Street. They could wait until he was getting out of the car, then Michael could pull the gun on him and shoot him in the thigh or the arm. At that close a range, he could probably even hit him. He looked at Lisa. She was a better shot than he was. She had sunk down on the couch.

  No, he’d have to do it. Then what?

  Michael began to pace back and forth. He walked over to the door, bent down, and picked up the holster and his jacket. He dropped the jacket on the couch, took the gun out of its holster, and stood staring at it, feeling the cold weight in his hand. He felt himself exhale shakily, trying to reconcile actually using the thing, and he passed it from one hand to the other, almost as if he was trying to decide which hand it felt best in. He’d have to disarm him. He knew Tony. Even shot in the leg, he’d go for them. And he was a good shot, a real shooter.

  He stared at his jacket. He’d have to keep it in his pocket. He couldn’t take the time to reach into his holster if he was going to pull it on Tony.

  Lisa walked back into the bedroom, almost in a trance. He walked in after her and watched her finish dressing.

  “I’m going to try and get his gun and shoot him in the leg when he tries to get out of the car to get your boss,” he began as evenly as he could. She nodded silently as she buttoned he
r shirt.

  “When I do that, I want you to open the door and run as quickly as possible out onto West Broadway and try to hail a cab while you’re waiting for me.”

  “What if—”

  “If I’m not out on the street after two minutes, you get the hell out of there, cab or no cab. Go back to your apartment, pack what you can, and get on the first train out of the city—”

  “But—”

  “You take a train and pay cash, then fly from another city—it’ll take more time to trace. You do what I say.”

  She stood still, staring at him.

  “I don’t want to leave without you, you’ve—”

  “Look, this mess isn’t your fault. You got stuck in the middle of something you shouldn’t have.…” His voice dwindled away as she walked into his arms and held on to him tightly.

  “Go back to Michigan, where you belong. Believe me, Lisa, if I can get away, I’ll do it, if not, then maybe it’s God’s way of telling me that I belong in this kind of life. I don’t know. I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through … I’m sorry for what I did.”

  There was a knock at the door, and slowly she let go of him.

  “Be right there,” Michael called out, looking at the door.

  Lisa was standing at the small desk, writing something down on the hotel stationery, when he walked over to her.

  “What are you doing? We have to go.”

  She folded the paper and stuffed it into his jacket pocket.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s my address and phone number in Michigan.” He opened his mouth, but she gently put her hand over his lips and gazed at him. “I’ll wait as long as I can on the street. If something goes wrong and you don’t get out within three minutes, I’ll wait for you at the information booth in Grand Central two hours after we do this. If you don’t show up, keep the address and join me later. You don’t belong in this kind of life, Michael. Get out now while you have the chance. I’ll be waiting.”

  There was a banging knock on the door, and they gazed at each other for the last time. Lisa nodded and Michael opened the door.

  Tony was standing there, annoyed.

  “Jeez, what the hell took youse so long?” he demanded as they walked into the hallway.

  “You know women,” was the only thing Michael could say as he pushed the button for the elevator.

  EIGHT

  Gina’s black limousine pulled up in front of the church as Sophia came down the steps. She smiled and waved as Gina opened the door, then she got inside.

  “Father D’Amico asked for you,” Sophia said as the car turned onto a side street.

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him you weren’t feeling well,” she said, deciding that she’d have to confess that lie to him at the next confession. She stared at the street, a bit confused.

  “Where we going, Gina?”

  “My son’s house … to deal with Rosa,” Gina said in her gravelly voice. Then she exhaled and sank back into the velvety upholstered seat. Sophia watched a big smile come across her face, followed by a contented sigh, and she, too, made herself comfortable in the car. She had called Gina first thing that morning about Rosa. They were finally going to get rid of her—Sophia knew it in her bones.

  * * *

  Michael’s eyes kept surveying Tony’s body as they drove downtown. He kept staring at the bulky thighs and arms. He could see the bulge from his holster. He finally forced his eyes forward as they traveled down Fifth Avenue. The streets were nearly empty. It was too hot even for the tourists to be out walking.

  Tony was humming to himself, and thinking about Gus tearing up Joey D.’s Avis. He was surprised he hadn’t heard from Angela already. Even Ralphie had been cool on the phone, not letting on he knew anything when Tony called in for his daily check and to run down the day’s schedule. He shot a glance sideways at Mikey and wondered whether he knew his mother had been out to see Solly. Naw.

  He continued humming, then stared at Michigan in the rearview mirror. Maybe he should try one last time with her. They stopped at a light, and Tony’s eyes landed on a block with nothing but fur-coat shops. He glanced back to her.

  Should he even try it? he thought. God knows what she’d tell him about fur coats. This one was a total mystery to him. Her flat blond hair and freckly face faded into Angela attacking him on the lawn.

  “Tony?” Michael said, and he looked out and saw that the light was green.

  He stepped on the gas.

  “You like fur coats?” he asked.

  “Who?” he heard Michael ask, and he glared at him.

  “Jeez, how many times I gotta tell you? I’m not talkin’ to you.” He turned back to Michigan. “You like fur coats?”

  “You mean the ones where they kill all those poor little animals?”

  No, this broad was a total mystery to him.

  “Aw jeez, that’s what they raise ’em for. You see, they treat ’em good before they chop ’em up.”

  “Yes, but then all they do is kill them for their fur.”

  “So?” Tony’s eyes began crossing.

  “Well, if we ate mink or sable, it would be different.”

  “Why? The thing’s dead. Dead is dead, nothin’ else. They don’t care if they get eaten—”

  “Well, if they raised you just to rip your skin off, wouldn’t you be upset?” Lisa said, taking the bull by the horns.

  “If I’m dead, what’s the difference?” he nearly yelped.

  “It’s the principle of the thing. I just couldn’t wear one, that’s all.”

  “What do people give you for presents for God’s sake?” Tony asked, his voice booming with frustration.

  “Flowers?”

  They all went silent. Tony kept shaking his head back and forth as they drove through the empty streets on the way down to SoHo. Flowers. Fuckin’ flowers, no dead animal coats …

  He looked over to her. Jeez, if he could get Angela to swallow a line like that …

  * * *

  “Sit down, Rosa,” Gina said, carefully untying the black lace hair protector from her head.

  Sophia watched Rosa stare uneasily at her and sit down. She wiggled uncomfortably in the chair, her eyes looking around Solly’s office. Gina folded the hair protector and placed it and her black handbag on the desk.

  “Is Val here?” Rosa asked carefully.

  “My daughter-in-law is at church. It’s none of her business, anyway. This is between us.”

  The three of them sank into silence as they waited for Solly. Sophia watched Rosa squirm, knowing Rosa wanted a cigarette but didn’t dare ask whether she could smoke in the room. Everyone knew that since Solly had been on his health kick, smoking was forbidden in his house. Sophia hid a smile as she coughed into her handkerchief.

  The door clicked and Solly walked in. He was dressed in white tennis clothes and he stopped for a moment and frowned disgustedly at the three of them. Rosa stood up as he continued to his desk.

  “Solly, I—” Rosa began, but she stopped as she watched his eyebrow raise.

  “Sit down, Rosa,” Solly said, and they all sat down.

  Solly cleared his throat and clasped his hands on the desktop.

  “My mother,” he began, darting a frown in Gina’s direction, “wants this mess with your boss straightened out another way.”

  Gina gave him a crisp smile and folded her arms.

  “Okay, your problem is that you don’t got enough money to go live in Florida?”

  “But he shamed me, firing me from the—”

  Solly raised his hands and hushed her.

  “The problem is that you don’t got enough money to go live in Florida, right?” he repeated.

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Okay, then,” he said, gritting his teeth as he stared at his mother. “In deference to your late husband getting himself all shot up on the avenue”—Sophia could see Solly wince—“my mother has pointed out to me that I ought to pay fo
r you to go live in Florida.”

  “But what—”

  “I buy the condo,” his voice interrupted loudly and sharply, “and I throw in a yearly pension of twenty—” Gina coughed, and he grimaced again and corrected the figure. “Thirty thousand a year, tax free.”

  “Solly, he did—”

  Solly glared at her and stood up.

  “Look, youse take the fuckin’ condo and the money and we call it even with this guy from your office.”

  “But—”

  “That’s the deal. You better take it”—he glared at his mother again—“’cause this is the last goddamned time I’m makin’ this offer. You understand me, Rosa Morelli?”

  Sophia caught a glare from him and she stared at the floor. Tough luck, she thought, knowing that she was not going to be popular for this.

  They listened to Rosa exhale loudly and Sophia watched her nod.

  “All right, I’ll take the deal,” she said finally, and got up.

  She glared at the three of them and walked out the door. They listened to it slam behind her.

  “All right? You happy now?” Solly asked his mother tersely.

  “Yes, Enrico.”

  “I’m goin’ to play tennis,” he said, and Sophia coughed.

  “And Michael?”

  “I’m gonna get Ralphie to call him off,” he said, and walked over to his mother. “You don’t ever do this to me again, eh?” he said fiercely, and Gina sniffed and gave him a look, as if he was being silly.

  They listened to the door slam after him.

  “I hope this didn’t make no trouble for you,” Sophia said gratefully.

  Gina waved her hand after Solly and shook her head.

  “He got nothing to be upset about. He’ll realize what a favor he just did himself once he ships her down to Florida. She isn’t gonna call him every fifteen minutes from there.”

  She stopped and the two of them stared at each other and then began to giggle, first low, then getting louder and louder until they were bellowing.

  “We did it, Soph’. Took us thirty years, but we finally got rid of her!” Gina said, grabbing her around the shoulders.

  “Come inside. I got some pastries from Venieros, fresh. I’ll make black coffee,” Gina added, and the two of them walked out of the study.