Brooklyn Story

by Suzanne Corso

  At the same time, Tony was included in a high-level meeting with Vin and a guy named Andrew LaCocca, a multimillionaire who was planning a scheme to rip off a well-established banking institution. “And you boys would each get a hundred grand for this one. Providin’ there are no fuckups. Capisce?”

  “My good friend Tino said you guys have balls,” said LaCocca, “but I don’t know. They better be made of steel for the job I’m planning.”

  The threesome were sitting at Vittorio’s Pizza Palace in the center of Bensonhurst, where the rushing traffic sounds drowned out their conversation.

  “We won’t disappoint you,” said Vin coolly. He was taking to his role as future boss, staring down this wealthy, cocky guy who went nowhere without a bodyguard.

  “Does that mean you guys are in?” LaCocca asked, suddenly standing. His bodyguard, nearly as thick as he was tall, grunted and stood also, his hand resting inside his jacket pocket.

  “We’re in,” said Vin.

  Tony nodded.

  LaCocca and his man walked to the door and slipped into the moving crowd, passing pedestrians on the street. Vin and Tony exchanged glances. They were ready for this one, as if all their years of petty thievery and violence were preparation for the score they were about to make.

  “Shit,” said Tony. “Did he just say a hundred grand?”

  “Yeah,” agreed Vin, “apiece. For each of us. Let’s get outta here.”

  It didn’t make much sense to me at the time, but it did later.

  After I left Janice, there was still time before dinner that I had planned to have at home, so I detoured to Our Lady of Guadalupe. The musty air with a faint hint of incense embraced me as I entered and sat in my usual seat for some quiet contemplation.

  Surrounded by icons, I thought about what I had told Grandma on Christmas Day. A spiritual attachment to the Blessed Mother was a big part of me and that would always be so. The rites and customs associated with religious observance, on the other hand, were still foreign to me and I didn’t know if that would ever change, either. I decided that that wasn’t what was important. Just like what Tony did to survive wasn’t important, either. What was important, I knew, were the feelings I had about the Blessed Mother and those between my boyfriend and me, and my faith in myself.

  I prayed for a few minutes in the informal manner that was my own and then stole a final glance at the statue of Mary before dipping a finger into the holy water. I made the sign of the cross and then pushed on one of the two heavy wood doors at the rear of the church. As I skipped down the concrete steps, a familiar voice called out. “Stopped in for some inspiration, Samantha?”

  I turned in the direction of Father Rinaldi, who was approaching, and my smile matched his. “I can always use some,” I said as I joined him on the sidewalk.

  Father Rinaldi placed a tender hand on my shoulder. “It’s there for the taking, my child,” he said. “What’s important is how you use it.”

  “It restores me, Father. Makes me feel that anything’s possible.”

  “As long as you keep the faith,” he said.

  My conviction about belief a few minutes before in the pew came back to me as I looked into the priest’s eyes. “I will, Father,” I said.

  Father Rinaldi crossed his arms. “Bear in mind that you must keep your faith with those who also believe,” he said. I thought about Tony and it seemed Father Rinaldi was reading my mind. “I’m not so sure Tony Kroon is one of them.”

  “He’s no worse than any of the other guys around here,” I said.

  “Maybe in that group he runs with. But remember, Sam, Christ is our model and there are those who strive to be more like him every day. Maybe you’re not seeing everybody.”

  I thought about Nick at Outer Skates, and about the nerds in school who stimulated my mind with their interests but didn’t stir my budding womanhood. “I’ve seen a lot, Father,” I said.

  He glanced at my bracelet and his face tightened as he looked me in the eyes. “Including the inside of a precinct.”

  I lowered my head. “What he did wasn’t all that bad,” I said. A cold burst of wind swept the avenue and buffeted the naked branches above us and my own limbs. I shivered. Father Rinaldi spread his arm and his warmth across my shoulder.

  “There are no degrees of wrong, Samantha,” he said softly. “What’s wrong is wrong.”

  I looked again into his face, which had turned beatific. He’s shielding me in more ways than one, I said to myself. But, I thought, in the arms of the church as he was, he didn’t have to reach out in the neighborhood. Tony and the rest of his guys did. They stuck together and used their connections to get somewhere. They lived in the real world, I thought, even if it was different than the one I was headed for. I believed in Tony, too, I decided, even if Father Rinaldi didn’t. We were doing the best we could in the Bensonhurst outside the church’s walls.

  “I always try to do what’s right, Father,” I said.

  His strong arm hugged me close. “I believe you, Sam.” His eyes pierced my soul.

  “Thanks, Father,” I said. “You restore me, too.”

  “God does that, child. Remember his forgiveness always.”

  There was a mob of young people behind a red velvet rope at Platinum as Tony steered the Porsche to the curb in front of the club entrance. He got out and tossed the keys to a valet and I hurried to catch up to him at the smoked glass doors. Tony shared the usual laugh with his bouncer friend as he waved us through. A chorus of grumbles from those shivering on line was muted when the door closed behind us.

  Tony grabbed my hand and pulled me through the packed club to the bar, where patrons stood three deep waiting for drinks. He caught the eye of a bartender and then jostled the young men in front of him as he reached toward the bar to put some money down.

  “Who the fuck do ya think ya are?” one of the guys asked. “Whatsit to ya?” Tony snarled as he wedged closer to the bar to wait for his drinks.

  “Maybe ya should wait like everyone else,” the guy said.

  “And maybe ya should jus’ shut the fuck up,” Tony growled as he shoved the guy’s upper body with a forearm. If it weren’t for the others packed in around him, the guy might have gone sprawling, I thought. I stepped back as the guy steadied himself and started his hands toward Tony’s chest. Tony thrust his hands and parted the guy’s arms before they reached their target, and grabbed the guy’s shirt near the collar. He jerked the guy close, popping two of his buttons, and got into his face. “Whoya with?” Tony growled.

  The guy nodded toward his friends next to him. “Just these … guys … here,” he stammered.

  Tony tightened his grip. “I mean, whoya with?” he growled again. The guy’s eyes narrowed and he didn’t respond. “That’s what I thought.” Tony laughed and shoved him away. “Ya better watch yaself, then, if ya know what’s good for ya.” Tony picked up two drinks from the bar with one hand as he kept his eyes on the guy. He smirked as one of the guy’s friends grabbed his arm and they all backed away and melted into the crowd.

  “Fuckin’ assholes,” Tony muttered, and headed for the tables in the rear to find his friends. I followed close behind on the edge of the packed dance floor, where partiers gyrated to Al Wilson blaring from speakers that rocked the club:

  Whoa, oh, oh, oh show and tell just a game I play

  When I wanna say “I love you”

  I may have to drag Tony with me across that bridge, I thought as we joined the foursome of our friends at a round table.

  “Christ,” Tony said when we sat down. “What a guy hasta go through jus’ to get a fuckin’ drink.” He took a long swig from his scotch and water. Vin and Richie smiled broadly.

  “Problems, Tone?” Richie asked.

  “I almost hadda give some stronzo a beatdown,” Tony said.

  “There are dickheads everywhere,” Vin said. “Ya gotta do what ya gotta do.” The guys laughed as I exchanged fast hellos with Janice and Dara. I took a sip of my drink and w
inced. I wasn’t accustomed to scotch.

  “Whatsa matter?” Tony asked. “Too strong for ya?”

  “A little.”

  “Well, I hadda get sumthin’ in a hurry.”

  “It’s okay,” I said.

  Vin waved to a waitress. “I’ll get some more champagne,” he said as he pointed to the empty bottle on the table and held up a flute. “Connie’s a good girl. She’ll be right over.”

  “Ya should know,” Tony said, and the guys chuckled. Dara rolled her eyes. Tony downed his drink and grabbed another waitress as she walked by. “Bring me a coupla scotch and waters, honey, willya?” he said, his arm around her waist and his cheek inches from her breast.

  “Sure thing, Tony,” the girl said with a wide smile.

  “Veronica’s not bad, either,” Tony cracked when she left. I frowned but didn’t say anything. I may have to corral him, I thought, before I can drag him anywhere.

  “Ya tryin’ to catch up in a hurry, Tone?” Richie asked.

  “Nah, deez glasses are like thimbles,” Tony said. “Besides, the drinks are watered-down in this fuckin’ place.”

  The guys traded comments and jokes as they polished off a couple of rounds of drinks. With their boisterous behavior and the loud music that shook the floor, it was impossible for the girls to trade much talk. I spent the time toying with my flute and looking at everyone on the dance floor having fun as they contorted to the sounds that bounced off the walls.

  I tugged Tony’s arm after half an hour. “Can we dance?” I asked.

  “Later,” he said without looking at me, and he continued his conversation with Vin. “So what’s up with the lawyer?”

  “That hard-on with a suitcase? He’s worse than a loan-shark. Gonna take our lungs.”

  “I thought your father was takin’ care of it,” Tony said.

  “Yeah, he said he would,” Vin said. “But we gotta take the weight ourselves.”

  Tony shook his head from side to side. “Ya sure?” he asked.

  “I’ll show ’im I can handle things.”

  “How?” Richie asked.

  Vin turned toward Richie. “I got it all figured out,” he said. “Doze punks won’ know what hit ’em.” Vin looked at Tony. “We’ll talk aboudit later.”

  “Okay by me,” Tony said, and then he stood up. “Gotta pisciare. Be right back.”

  “Don’ stand next to any finocchios who might try’n grab your best friend,” Vin cracked. Richie roared as Tony made his way to the men’s room.

  Vin put his arm on the back of my chair and leaned toward me. “So, ya met my father, huh?” he asked. I could smell the liquor on his breath.

  “Yes. At his restaurant.”

  “He liked you.”

  My forehead wrinkled. “I didn’t really talk to him that much,” I replied.

  “That’s what he liked,” Vin said with a smile, “’sides ya bein’ a looker an’ all.” He glanced at Dara and turned back to me. “We like women who can keep quiet. Ain’t that right, Richie?”

  Richie pulled Janice close and breathed into her face. “’Cept when we’re on top of ’em, huh, baby?” Janice blushed and Richie finished his thought with a chuckle. “Then they can scream all they want.”

  Vin chuckled and reached for my wrist with his other hand. “Lemme see what my compare got ya for Christmas,” he said as he raised my arm and eyed the bracelet. “Hmm, not bad. Coppo has some fine stuff, no?”

  “I love it,” I said.

  Richie sat back and nodded toward the rock above Dara’s cleavage. “Just the start of your collection,” he said to me, “if you’re good to ‘im.”

  “She’s good, period,” Janice chimed in.

  Vin eyed me up and down. “I’ll bet she is,” he said. I blushed, shifted in my seat, and then searched the room for Tony. I was glad when I saw that he was on his way back to the table. As he edged along the dance floor, a blond and brunette who were wriggling together reached out and pulled him onto the dance floor. My eyes widened and the Bee Gees reverberated in my ears:

  What you doing on your back, aah,

  What you doing on your back, aah,

  You should be dancing, yeah

  Dancing, yeah

  Tony’s hands pumped the air and his eyes never left the two young girls with tight bodies. Spotlights reflected off his teeth, which were exposed in a perpetual smile, as the girls pawed his open shirt. I shifted in my seat again, looked away, and caught Janice staring at me. I lowered my head, reached for my flute, and gulped some champagne until the song ended.

  “Everythin’ come out okay?” Vin cracked when Tony sat down at our table. I returned my gaze to the dance floor.

  Tony grinned from ear to ear, beads of perspiration on his forehead. “Almost,” he said.

  “I’ve got to go to the ladies’ room,” I blurted as I slid my chair back.

  Janice jumped up. “I’ll go with you,” she said, and came around the table to join me as I headed into the crowd.

  “What the fuck was that?!” I blurted when the bathroom door closed behind us. The thump of the music and muffled lyrics provided a backdrop. “Geez,” I said as I thrust my hair back with my fingers.

  “Ignore him,” Janice said. “It’s all part of their bullshit.”

  “How can you say that?”

  Janice grabbed my shoulders. “It’s jus’ them bein’ macho, Sam. You’ll get useta it.”

  “I’m not sure I ever will,” I replied. “Or want to, for that matter.”

  Janice’s hand moved to my wrist and she elevated it in front of my face. “Listen,” she said. “It’s you who he buys stuff for, and you who’s goin’ home with him. That’s what matters.”

  I had definitive ideas about what mattered, but it was neither the time nor the place to go into them. “If you say so,” I said.

  “Good. Now let’s go back out there and act like nothin’s wrong.”

  We went back to the table and sat down. The guys didn’t acknowledge our return as they kept up their animated conversation. Dara said nothing and she continued chewing gum as her head swiveled, seemingly bored with everything.

  A few songs later, Tony grabbed my arm. “We gotta go,” he said, and then we stood up. “Seeya around,” Tony said to Vin and Richie, and then we weaved our way through the crowd again to the exit.

  “Didya have a good time?” Tony asked as we pulled away.

  “I guess,” I said with a low voice.

  Tony looked over at me and then at the road ahead. “Whatsa matter?” he asked. “It was fun, wasn’t it?”

  “I wanted to dance with you,” I murmured as I stared through the windshield and wondered where we were headed.

  “C’mon, the guys and me wuz jus’ gettin’ it on.”

  “That’s not all you were getting on with.”

  Tony flicked a hand. “What? That jailbait? That wuz nuttin’.”

  “You didn’t look like you disapproved,” I said.

  “Geez, Sam. What coulda I done? They practically raped me!”

  “Sure, Tone.”

  He drove for a minute before he broke the heavy silence. “I’m tellin’ ya, Sam, it wuz nuttin’.”

  Father Rinaldi leapt into my mind. “Just like your case is nothing,” I said.

  “Total bullshit,” Tony sputtered, and he turned toward me again. “Besides, that’s my bizness, not yours.”

  But it would soon be mine, too.

  In the week between Christmas and New Year’s, Pamela had taken off for a few days to visit her sister upstate, and on Friday night, Philip was out playing poker and Katrina was sleeping over at a friend’s house. Tony and I had the Kroon home to ourselves.

  We snuggled together on his parents’ bed under a Blessed Mother statue that hung on the wall directly above us, and we were at peace in each other’s arms, watching The Maltese Falcon. I thought Peter Lorre looked soft and timid, especially next to Humphrey Bogart, who made everyone look weak. “I love the old movies, Sam,”
Tony said. “Don’t you?”

  “Sure do,” I lied. I preferred contemporary films, but if I could spend the time cuddling with Tony, I really didn’t care what we watched. I thought for a moment about my novel being turned into a movie, and how cool that would be. Someday, I thought … someday.

  “Yeah,” Tony said as the movie ended and the credits ran, “they jus’ don’ make ’em like they useta.”

  “You sound like an old man,” I said with a good-natured smile. “You know, the kids today are no good and all the rest of it.”

  “Ya think I’m an old man?” Tony asked, twisting my arm behind me. He wrestled me underneath him and then pinned my arms above my head. I laughed and tried to wriggle away. “Take it back,” he said.

  “Uh-uh,” I said, struggling to get loose.

  “Man, you’re a feisty one,” Tony said, and strengthened his grip. “I said, take it back.”

  “No chance.”

  “Then pay the price,” he said, easily holding my two hands in his one as he began to sneak his fingers up my short vinyl skirt.

  Ripples of excitement charged through my body as I squirmed to get away from him, but truth be told, I wasn’t trying all that hard. “Okay, okay,” I acquiesced, “I take it back.”

  “Too late,” he said, continuing to push his fingers inside my panties.

  “C’mon, Tony,” I said. “That feels good … but I really don’t think I’m ready.”

  “You’re soaking wet, Sam,” he said, focusing on touching me just right. “You’re ready, believe me.” He continued to hold my hands over my head as he began licking down the center of my chest. With his free hand, he ripped off my blouse.

  “Watch it, Tone,” I said in the midst of my pleasure. “My grandma gave me that. And she can’t afford a new one.”

  “We’ll just hafta buy ya another, then, won’t we?” he said as he rolled on top of me, parting my legs with his knee. “Sam, tell me you need me. Right now. Tell me, ’cause I need ya so bad, baby!” He pulled my bra down, grabbed my nipple with his thumb and index finger, and squeezed.