The Russos 8

by D. J. Manly

  “What now? Is someone sick?”

  “No, no one is sick. It concerns something your grandmother told us before she died. It especially concerns you and I. I wanted to tell you about it in New York, but you had already left to go back to L.A. Can’t we meet somewhere tonight for a drink...just to talk?”

  Angelo paused and then looked down the hall to see Mrs. Bloomfield standing at the top of the stairs. She gave him a dirty look.

  “Dad, I have to go now.”

  For a minute, Drake thought that Angelo was not going to see him, then he rattled off the address of an all-night diner down the street from him and said he’d meet him there in a half hour.

  “Okay, great. I’ll take a cab. Alan offered me his car, but I don’t know Phoenix that well. I can only remember being here a couple of times and only for a night. Anyway, see you soon.”

  Angelo hung up. He looked at the landlady and threw up his hands. “These people who call at all hours.” He clucked his tongue. “I think they should be severely punished.”

  Mrs. Bloomfield scowled at him and went back downstairs.

  Angelo went back into his room laughing. He dressed and prepared to meet his father with some very mixed feelings.

  * * * * * *

  Tony lay down on the sofa and switched on the television set. He was tired. Making that video had not been the party he thought it would be. First, there had been retake after retake. That was super boring, and secondly, they never did get to go through the whole video at one time. Each day they worked on the same tiny little segments, over and over until you wanted to scream. Finally when they producers were satisfied with one segment, they moved onto the next. His father assured him that once they put it together, he would hardly recognize it.

  Sam had left yesterday. Aunt Janet had invited him to stay for her wedding, but he couldn’t. His father had managed to get him a summer job at the mill back home that began the first part of July. Sam was hoping it would turn into something permanent now that he had graduated from high school.

  It was funny how some people had their lives all mapped out for them. Tony wasn’t sure what he would do with his life. His father was pushing the guitar lessons and slowly involving him more and more with the band. He did dream of one day joining the Russo Brothers, but there was also a part of him that longed for a simpler life.

  His mother was still here. She had decided to attend the wedding. Johnny had spoken to Janet about it, and she had told him to tell her sister that she wouldn’t prevent her from coming if she wanted to.

  Miraculously, his mother had not been too bothersome. She preoccupied herself with his father most of time, hanging on his every word. They even went to dinner together a few times. Tony wasn’t sure what to make of it all, but he really didn’t care as long as she didn’t get on his case.

  Tonight, he felt restless. His mother had gone to see some exhibit at one of the local art galleries. She had invited Johnny to go with her but he had declined, claiming that he was feeling a little tired after wrapping up the work on the video. He told Carter to drive her to where she was going and then wait for her.

  Tony missed his friend Sam. He missed talking to him and telling him his thoughts and his fears. He was feeling anxious, anxious about the video and his part in it. Compared to the others, he was no more then a rank amateur. He hoped he wouldn’t embarrass himself. He was especially worried about letting Drake down. But what bothered him most tonight wasn’t his performance in the video or Sam’s absence, but the fact that Drake had flown out to Phoenix, Arizona this afternoon.

  Earlier, Drake had come by just after breakfast to let Johnny know that he wouldn’t be in the studio for the next two days.

  “Why? Where are you going?” Johnny asked him, drinking his second cup of coffee.

  “To Arizona, to see Angelo,” Drake told him, not bothering to sit down.

  Tony had come out onto the terrace when he heard Drake’s deep voice. “Hello, what brings you here so early?”

  “I’m going to Phoenix today.” Drake met his eyes.

  “I’m going with you,” Tony announced.

  “No. I’m going alone,” Drake returned. There was no room for discussion. He left shortly after.

  Tony complained bitterly to his father. His father said little, just shook his head and made some comment about Drake being stubborn.

  Now as he lay here, he wondered if Drake was with Angelo now and what they were talking about. Was Drake telling Angelo about what Grandmother had said? How would he take that? Would he be upset? Was he upset about his role in the video? Did he really think that he was sleeping with Drake? He wished he could have gone with Drake. He might have convinced him that...that what? That it was him he wanted...that he had made a mistake and let him go? What could he possibly say now, at this point?

  Tony got up off the sofa and walked around the living room. His father was somewhere in the house, lost in his own regrets. They were two of a kind, weren’t they, Tony thought sadly. They were both in love, one with the father and one with the son, and yet neither the father nor son in question was here with them now.

  After a few minutes, Tony found his father. He was sitting alone on the terrace, and Tony couldn’t help thinking that he had never seen his father look quite so alone.

  Johnny was looking up at the sky as if he was counting the stars, but Tony knew he wasn’t really seeing them.

  He went to join his father, his sudden presence causing Johnny to remove his eyes from the sky and give his son a quick smile. Tony took the chair beside him.

  Johnny returned his attention to the night sky. What ever it was he saw or didn’t see seemed to give him some comfort.

  They sat together in silence, both with their respective aching heart. Neither one of them spoke. There was no need to. They both knew what the other was feeling because it was almost exactly the same thing.

  * * * * * *

  The waitress took his order and then waddled over to the counter to shout it at the short order cook.

  Angelo had ordered coffee and a hamburger. He hadn’t eaten much for supper and he felt a little hungry.

  Drake came sauntering in a few minutes later. He smiled broadly when he saw his son.

  Angelo stood up. They embraced briefly and then sat down across from one another.

  When the waitress saw Drake Russo walk into the diner, she just about swallowed her gum. She cried out his name and then came rushing over to the table to get his autograph.

  Luckily the diner was empty except for two other customers, who came to join the waitress and the cook at the table where Angelo and Drake Russo were sitting. The couple in their sixties were not typical fans of The Russo Brothers Band. They were fairly calm compared to the waitress and the cook, who looked quite flushed as Drake signed their scraps of paper. When the man handed Drake a piece of paper to sign, he told him a little shyly, “It’s for our granddaughter Cindy, who is seventeen.” Drake nodded and wrote ‘To Cindy with love, Drake Russo’.

  Watching him sign autographs brought back memories, none of them good. When he was a kid, their so-called father-and-son outings were always interrupted by fans wanting to get close to him. Nothing had changed in all these years.

  Finally, after the waitress got over the shock of being that close to Drake Russo, he was able to ask her to bring him some coffee.

  The waitress brought him doughnuts along with an entire pot of coffee and informed him that it was on the house.

  Either she or the cook had completely forgotten about his hamburger, so when he finally was able to distract her from falling all over his father, he reminded her. Ten minutes later, she put a plate in front of him with what resembled a hamburger sitting on it. It was stone cold.

  Eventually the waitress stopped dancing around their table, plunked herself on a stool across from them and looked like she had fallen into some kind of a trance.

  Drake gazed at his son’s untouched hamburger and asked him if he wanted
him to ask the waitress to bring him another.

  “God, no. Don’t ask her to come over here again.”

  Drake laughed a little.

  “Anyway, It’s too late to eat now. I won’t sleep all night if I eat this now anyway.”

  “You look thin. You’ve lost weight. Are you eating all right?” Drake asked him, sounding like any typical father in spite of the fact that he was anything but.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Do you need any money?” Drake sipped his coffee.

  “No, Dad. I thought we agreed that...” Angelo sighed, draining his own cup.

  “I know I wanted you to experience making it on your own. I didn’t say you had to starve in the process.” Drake pushed back some of his long dark hair.

  “Didn’t you guys go hungry...eat Kraft Dinner and all that noble stuff when you were trying to make it?” Angelo mocked.

  “Yes, but...” Drake sighed. “Okay, Drake, so I was a little hard on you. I didn’t want to spoil you, and in the process, maybe I...” He stopped. “I could have helped you with the contract, got you a better deal, maybe.”

  “I don’t want your help, okay?” Angelo snapped. “You can’t have it both ways, Dad. Either I do it on my own or I don’t. Make up your mind.”

  Drake leaned back in his seat and licked his lips. He nodded. “I won’t interfere unless you ask me.”

  Angelo nodded stiffly and then looked out the window. God, he hated Arizona. “I appreciate that.”

  Drake studied him. “Have I told you how proud I am of you?”

  “Often.”

  “I know it’s been hard on you...having me for a father. It’s a lot of pressure...a lot to live up to, and--” Drake paused as the waitress came to refill their coffee cups in spite of the fact that there was a half-full coffee pot sitting on the table between them.

  When she walked away again, Drake resumed talking. “I tried my best. I--”

  “Dad, does this conversation have a point?” Angelo lifted an eyebrow. He looked around at the empty booths and then back at his father. Such a young father. They might have passed for brothers instead. Drake looked angry. Angelo met his eyes. “Well?”

  “Why are you angry at me? It’s because of Tony, isn’t it?”

  “Tony?” Angelo croaked. “No. This has nothing to do with Tony, goddamn it!” Angelo lowered his voice now as he saw the waitress looking over at them. “This has to do with all your bullshit speeches about how I needed to experience the so-called fucking struggle and then turning around and letting Tony appear in your video because you’re a horny thirty-six-year-old guy with a taste for young boys!” Angelo glared at him.

  His father’s face drained of colour. Drake took a breath and then he shook his head. He forced a calmness into his voice. “Okay,” he began, “fine. I agree I may not have been the picture of morality and I agree I’ve been around, but I am not sleeping with Tony and by God,” he said, his voice rising, “I resent the fact that you think I would let someone appear in a music video of mine because they were sleeping with me. Is that the kind of man you think I am, Drake?”

  Angelo studied his face. He looked hurt, but he was beyond caring. “All I know is that nothing happens unless you approve. Tony has no musical experience or background and yet all of a sudden, he’s in one of your music videos. It stinks.”

  Drake sighed. He had to try and explain. “Johnny and I have been teaching him the guitar and he has a good singing voice. He’s talented, Angelo, and he and Johnny wrote this song together. It was good. Then Johnny wanted Tony to be part of it, and I couldn’t say no to Johnny because I...”

  “Because you what?”

  “Because I still feel guilty about what happened last year. Johnny is not the same, Angelo. He tires easy and he has memory problems. He has to have some surgery on his eye soon to correct some blurriness. I...”

  Angelo gazed at him and then swallowed. “Oh, Dad, I’m sorry.” He knew when his father was lying, and this wasn’t one of those times. The pain on his face told him that he was being sincere.

  Drake took a jagged breath and thanked him. “Can we take a walk? I really need to tell you something...but not here.”

  Angelo nodded. He tried to pay the bill. The waitress wouldn’t hear of it. Drake left her a fifty-dollar tip under his cup and walked out. Angelo followed him.

  They fell into step beside each other in the darkened street. Angelo asked him what it was he wanted to tell him.

  Drake turned to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. They stood on an empty street corner. There was no one in sight, not even any traffic.

  He told his son as much as he knew, which unfortunately was not very much. He watched for his reaction as he spoke. The more he talked, the more Angelo looked as if someone had just told him the world had fallen into the ocean. He shook his head several times, as if he were trying to clear it.

  “I was going to tell you right after Mama died but...well…you left New York before I had the chance,” Drake said.

  They walked again. They said nothing for a long while.

  When Drake asked him if he were all right finally, he told him, “No.”

  They walked some more.

  When they arrived outside of the boarding house, he turned to his father and spoke. “What does this all mean?”

  “You know, I’ve been asking myself that for quite some time now. I know that I’m still your father and you’re my son.” Tears came to his eyes. “Maybe it doesn’t mean anything at all.”

  “Dad,” he said softly. He reached out and hugged him.

  Drake hugged him back and then released him. “You still feel like you did when you were a small boy.”

  Angelo laughed out loud. “God, I hope not! I was hoping for some hair on my chest and a little development of certain muscles...”

  Drake shook his head with a smirk. “Smart ass.”

  Angelo smiled.

  The comic relief was short-lived, however, as Drake immediately sobered and looked down at the sidewalk. It was a cool evening, and they were both shivering a little in the night air. It was almost two in the morning, but yet there they both stood, nothing else to say to one another, but not really wanting to let each other go.

  Angelo was thinking that they were truly alone now. They were outsiders, he and his father. Had his family suddenly disappeared? Did he have a whole new family somewhere, strangers he would never really know? “What about Uncle Pepi and Uncle Johnny?” he managed. “Am I even supposed to call them that now?”

  “Of course you are!” Drake snapped. “They love you just like they always have. Nothing has changed in that respect. You just don’t stop loving someone because...” he trailed off.

  Angelo gasped. Suddenly it dawned on him. “Dad, this means that you and Johnny…if you’re not really brothers by blood, you can be together...I mean, are you...?”

  The question hung in the air.

  Then Drake shook his dark head. He gave his son a sad smile. “I can’t...I mean, it’s my fault. There is just so much stuff going on in my head. It’s like...I have to learn a whole new way of relating to him. Either I want to feel like his brother or I don’t. I need to choose, or maybe Johnny will have to. Anyway, don’t ask me that now, because it’s painful.”

  Angelo nodded and looked away from him for a few seconds. “I think I understand. Are you going to try and find out more about your real parents?”

  “No, at least not now. I have a picture of them. I’ll show you it to you sometime. You look like your grandfather, maybe even more then I do. I know my real father was a great classical pianist and it’s from him that we get our musical talent as well as our name. His name was Drake also.”

  “Dad, you seem so unhappy tonight. I didn’t know you were dealing with all this alone. Why didn’t you....” he stopped. “I’m sorry. I should have been there for you.” He looked down at the sidewalk.

  Drake smiled at him. He placed a hand under his son’s chin and raised his
head. “Don’t be sorry. You didn’t know. It’s not your fault. You have been there for me many times, Drake, you just didn’t know it. When you were just a little boy, you would come and throw your arms around me just at the time when I was really feeling down and say, “Daddy, I love you.” You were my joy, not the music, not the fame or the money but you, and I don’t regret one single thing about being your father. Just please realize that I’m not perfect. I tried to do my best, but I was just a kid who was supposed to be a father to another kid. I don’t think I’ve grown up yet.”

  Angelo laughed. He hugged him again. “I love you, Dad. We’ll grow up together, okay?”

  Drake nodded. “That’s a deal.”

  A few minutes later, Drake called a cab. He would go back to sleep at Alan Concord’s for the night and then take a commercial flight back out to Los Angeles tomorrow.

  Before the cab came, Drake made his son promise that he would be at the wedding next weekend and that he would call his mother. He offered to send the jet for him, but he said he would get to L.A. on his own. Drake didn’t push it. He was satisfied with that.

  Angelo ended the conversation by asking his father if he could bring someone to the wedding.

  His father’s eyes widened a little. “Who is it?” He tried to be casual about it.

  “His name is Matt. He’s a reporter with Music Beat. I’m not sure he’ll come, but I’d like to ask him anyway.”

  “Bring anyone you like,” his father replied hastily. And then after a pause, Drake asked, “Is it serious?”

  The taxi pulled up in front of the boarding house.

  Angelo shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s too early to tell, I suppose. Why?”

  Drake met his son’s eyes without bothering to answer his question. “I look forward to meeting him. See you soon.” He walked over to the taxi and opened the back door.

  He paused and looked back at his son for a minute as if he was going to say something else, but changed his mind.

  Angelo raised his hand in a wave, and Drake smiled at him and then got into the taxi.