I had lingering suspicions, “Ari, was she really with you in your car the night she was attacked?” I could tell at that moment something was weighing heavily on his heart. Sure, he was a pathetic addict, but I could see that somewhere inside existed a measure of morality. “I will tell you guys the truth, but you have to keep it to yourselves.” We both shook our heads yes in a self-serving fashion, Finkleman needed reassurance, “Really fellas, you can’t tell anyone.”
“Of course not.”
“OK, well that night, Carla startled me. I was getting something quick to eat when she jumped into my car out of nowhere. She was flipping out, I asked her, ‘what’s up?’ That’s when she dropped the bomb and told me she was pregnant. I went nuts and told her she had to get an abortion. Carla said her father would murder them both if he found out. She became incoherent; I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. She then slapped me in the face and stormed out of my car, shouting that she could never do that, and later fellas, for some ungodly reason, she faked the attack!”
Sonny was stunned, “What?”
I tried to slow Finkleman down, “Wait for a second, just hold it, are you saying she staged the attack?”
“Yeah! This crazy bitch repeatedly struck herself with a tree branch to cause the bruising.”
Sonny’s curiosity sparked, “Ok, but who pissed on her?”
“She urinated into a White Castle soda cup and poured her urine on herself.”
He gazed upon our astonished faces, “She was scared to death her father might find out she was pregnant. Carla would tell him she got pregnant during the alleged rape.”
I was furious, “Alleged? What the fuck! They executed two innocent guys over this.”
Finkleman was shaking, “Ant, I know, but she was out of control. I had nothing to do with those things.”
“Ari, how could you keep quiet about this? These guys blood is on your hands too!” It was beyond my comprehension. Ari looked at us both with apprehension, “Fellas, to be honest, I’m frightened to death of her. You don’t realize what she’s capable of.”
My mind was going a million miles an hour. Sickened and disgusted, I turned and left his office. I heard enough; it turned my stomach. I now realized what a dangerous and insane person Carla was. Her lies and accusations caused death. Now that her deceit and deception was uncovered, she would become more treacherous than ever. She was like a cornered animal. I had to tell someone, but whom? Yet if I did, at every turn, someone would be in peril. No one involved would be spared. Carla could be arrested, but worse yet, what would Albert and her father do? They were suspects in murder to avenge an attack that never occurred.
Now that Carla knew it was me who revealed her tryst with Finkleman, she would seek revenge.
*****
I sat Gia down in her father’s living room and kissed her, “I have something crazy to tell you, but you have to swear not to tell anyone.” I needed to tell her because I feared for her safety, “Ant, you know I never would tell anyone.”
“Yes, but Gia, this concerns your father too.”
“My father?”
I hesitated, should I go ahead and bring her into this web of deceit? But I needed her to know the truth; I didn’t want Carla anywhere near Gia, I feared what she might do. “Gia, there’s no easy way to say this.”
“Sweetheart, what is it?”
“You know that attack, the one where Hispanics from the Bronx attacked and raped Carla.”
“Yes, of course!”
“Well, it never happened.” Gia’s eyes widened, she struggled with my words, and her thoughts quickly reverted to her father and his well-being.
“Gia, Carla faked the entire thing. She was trying to cover-up the fact she was pregnant by telling her father she was raped!”
“It can’t be! How could she do something like that?”
“Sweetheart, she is a very sick person, I’m telling you this for one reason, and it’s not for you to tell your father, do you understand?” She nodded, but her thoughts were whirling around and around. “Gia, I don’t want you to go near her, not for any reason at all.”
“But she just called me this afternoon to go out with her tonight.”
“What?” I then knew she would hurt me by hurting Gia. “You can’t go out with her. It’s a trap!” I looked deep into her eyes to see if this was sinking in, “Sweetheart, you can’t tell anyone about this; please listen to me.”
“I understand, baby, I won’t.”
“Sonny and I are trying to figure this mess out.”
“What about Vito?”
I quipped, “Vito? Are you ready for this?” I told Gia the whole megillah; she was utterly speechless. She then understood why I was so adamant about staying away from Carla. We hugged and caressed each other. Gia was my responsibility; I would never allow anyone to harm my love.
*****
I needed to stop by the gym and sign the papers for the upcoming fight. The excitement in the gym and the possibilities that would open up if I won this fight distracted all the madness swirling around the neighborhood. It was a sweltering hot day, Izzy was wearing his standard garb, a stained white tee shirt that was soaked and stuck to his body. He motioned for me to follow him into his office, “Do you remember that pain in da balls writer for Ring Magazine?” He struggled for a few seconds, trying to recall his name, and then it came to him, “Oh! I remember now; his name is Meyers. I have his card somewhere on my desk.” It was comical to watch Izzy delicately shuffling through the garbage, moving it from one space on his desk to another, some of his trash dated back to the Great Depression. “Oh, here it is! He wants to do a quick interview with ya over da phone.”
“Right now? It hotter than hell in here.” He wasn’t listening. “Izzy, not for nothing, just look at yourself in the mirror!”
It went in one ear and out the other, “What’s da matter with da way I look?” Clueless, Izzy dialed the number, “Meyers? Izzy Moischel here.” They spoke as rivers of sweat streamed down the small of my back. Izzy reached for the butt of a cigar he had smoked a week ago, “Yeah, the kid’s always in shape.” He was animated as he waved the petrified piece of tobacco in the air, “Who has a better right hand at dat weight?” Then something annoyed him, “What? You’re out of your mind! It’ll take a fucken sledgehammer.”
Wait a minute, a sledgehammer? What was that all about? Aggravated, Izzy abruptly handed the receiver over to me. I covered the phone with one hand and whispered, “Hey Izz, what was that all about?”
Waving at me with a bunch of Q-tips in his hand, “Where ya listening in to my private conversation da whole time?”
“Private?”
He then thought for a second how ridiculous that sounded, “Ah, just forget it!”
“Izzy, wait a minute.”
He shoved the receiver to my ear, “Kid, just go ahead already; he wants to speak to you.” What choice did I have? I gave in, “Hey, how ya doing, Mr. Meyers.” From there, the conversation became dull and benign. Not a single question clued me in as to what made Izzy react the way he did. Finally, I had to ask, “Mr. Meyers…”
“Please call me Joey.”
“Ok, Joey, who do you think will win the fight?”
He hesitated, but then, was painfully transparent in his answer, “Well Anthony, you will read it anyway in the next issue. If you both have good camps, I predict Rodriguez will stop you in the seventh.”
“Stop me?”
“Yes.”
I was stunned. My thoughts were whirling around in my head, big and small, like tectonic plates. I abruptly ended the call, “Well thank you, sir, and have a good day,”
<
br /> “Wait, Anthony did I…”
“No thanks, pal, have a wonderful day.” I handed the receiver back to Izzy. Tiger and Ralphie overheard the entire conversation. Tiger spoke first, “Hey kid, you can’t get bent-out-of-shape over every jerk's two-cents, especially when you asked for it! This guy writes a lot of bullshit, but he never stepped foot inside the ring.”
Izzy was less gentle, “Anthony, if you’re looking for sympathy, go buy a goddamn puppy!” He picked up that same dried up cigar butt from an overflowing ashtray and stuck it in the corner of his mug, “Did it bother you?” I flashed him a fierce look that said it all. Izzy slammed his fist on a pile of magazines, “That’s good!” He jumped and grasped my shoulder, “That a boy! Let’s get to work and kick some ass.” Ralphie and Tiger cheered in unison, “Yeah!”
As we left the office and I made my way to the locker room, I looked deep inside my soul. This was no movie; the over-matched Italian kid from Brooklyn wasn’t guaranteed to win. I thought about what Tiger said about the writer. Yet I knew one thing; you didn’t have to be a chef to know if something didn’t taste right. Meyers had eyes, and worse, he had vast experience analyzing fights. What did he see? Doubt reappeared once again.
I stood alone in the back of the locker room. My God, all these things whirling around in my head, I had so much to live for, but danger hid in every corner of my life. The image of Vizzini caused a deep void. He would shield me from the dangers that lurked about. Then I remembered something; what was he going to tell me that day in the café? Unfortunately, I would have to find out the hard way.
Suddenly Ralphie yelled for me, “Ok, Ralphie; I’ll be right there.” I tried to shrug my distress off. I feigned a courageous appearance for all to see, and after taking a laborious breath, I half-heartedly charged into the gym. I’m a fighter…I’m a fighter…I’m a fighter!
Chapter 18
The Night The Lights Went Out On Broadway!
I got home from the gym and laid down in my bed. All alone, I began cataloging all the players in this drama. Could it get any crazier? And then ladies and gentlemen, the lights went out! I kid you not!
We don’t realize how much we take basic things in life for granted, whether it’s switching on a light, opening a refrigerator, or amid a heatwave, turning on the air conditioner.
At first, I thought a fuse had blown. Before I got to the bottom of the stairs, my father already checked. We opened our front door and peered off the stoop. It had been hovering around a hundred degrees for the past two days. Pippi, the next-door-nosy-body, was hanging out her window in her near-naked glory. “Fucken Mary’s, damn lights are out all over the block.” My father commiserated with her, “With all the money we pay Coned, its highway robbery.”
“You said it, Sammy (he hated that nickname!)! Everyone has a gun to your head! Just the other day, I was at the dentist. I asked him, ‘Hey Marvin, what if I start licking your fingers while they’re in my mouth?” She chuckled at her failed attempt at humor, “But you know Sammy; I have enough to live me the rest of my life.” My father looked at Pippi with honest curiosity, “Really?”
“Oh, yeah! That’s if I only live to next Thursday.” She laughed so hard at her joke; her giant bosoms that hung from the windowsill began to lurch up and down, which prompted her herd of pugs to yelp at the top of their lungs. She turned in from the window and hollered, “Shut-up already, you fucken Mary’s!” My father heard enough.
An hour after it went dark, the neighborhood became relegated to the fact that ConEd would not plug the juice back in anytime soon. So, as they had often done before, they turned the dilemma into a block party.
Joey Patrone, who lived across the street, dragged his humongous grill out from his garage and began grilling sausages in the street. Piero and his wife Pina brought out chickens and added them to the barbecue. Her famed eggplant and a salad of tomatoes she whipped up with the aid of a flashlight accompanied my mother. Anthony Mangano lugged a huge pot filled with peaches and wine, while Tony Romano entertained us with his battery-operated radio, which informed us the rest of the city was also in the dark. What the hell could we do about it? So, we did what we did best! We ate and then ate some more!
That night, even with the terrible heat and all, was more fun than I remembered in a long time. Albert Columbo would not allow Gia to walk over by herself, so later in the evening, Albert and his wife, along with my Gia, joined the party. He carried over a considerable tray that resembled a hub cap filled with cannoli. In fact, by midnight, everything that could go bad without refrigeration ended up on Joey’s grill.
As the coals died down, the crowd began to thin. People were exhausted from not only the sweltering temperatures but all the neighborly wine and food. Albert and his wife left Gia behind; they trusted me. It was much too hot to sleep inside, so Gia and I held each other in the backyard hammock, and in between the cooing and kissing, we both drifted off under the starry night sky.
I want to say the gaiety continued the next day, think again. ConEd offered no solution to the problem at hand, and tempers flared. Store owners guarded their businesses. Romano’s radio reported that in some neighborhoods, mobs of people, wild from the heat, began looting stores. Danny Gallo organized groups of young hoods and other tough kids from around the neighborhood to patrol 86th Street, “If anybody comes into our neighborhood, break their fucken heads for them--not in our neighborhood!”
*****
Brooklyn people were resilient; they could survive and thrive through nearly anything. Yet, that summer, there was an underlying fear that permeated the city, and the blackout made that apprehension a palatable realty.
Without the aid of streetlights and lampposts, not to mention the ever illumination from the stores, obscure corners became unimaginable rifts of darkness for fear to thrive in the city’s imagination. He wasn’t someone else’s problem, the Son of Sam was real, and at any given moment, no one knew where he was lurking. Was he the quiet neighbor next-door? Maybe the eccentric guy who lived across the street? His recipe for terror was bitter, and his voice was loud. But at the same time, he was horrifically nonchalant and carefree. Some might even say, happy go lucky!
(c)
The blackout made our angst a mortal delirium; more the reason for brave people to lock their loved one’s away and not let them out till the next millennium. Let’s not forget, besides our invisible executioner, there was also a fundamental fear of looting, riots, and theft.
Even after those lights came back on, nothing could quell our fears of the imagined beast that was now running rampant.
It all began as mere table talk that people jested about in between roast beef and vanilla pudding and now morphed into our worst nightmare. We were the Three Little Pigs, Goldilocks, and the Blind Mice all rolled up into one, and when we together fell off the damn wall, who was going to put us back together again? He was the monster, our monster, and with the lights back on, everyone ran for cover!
*****
“Say, kid, some of your friends were up here looking for you.”
“Oh, yeah! Did they say who they were?” Tiger had to think for a second or two, “Come to think of it; one of those guys said his name was Louie.” Tiger lowered his voice an octave, “A miserable bastard.”
A chill ran down my spine. So much for Gallo, Terranova, and their sway over things. Louie was taking the fight to the fighter. If that were the way he wanted it, then the next time I would see him, I’d give him the beating of his life.
I asked Izzy to get the largest poster he could find of Rodrigues and put it up in the gym. My mind was in a good place. Instead of cowering from adversaries and looking down alleyways and back streets to find courage, I was sauntering down the center of 86th Street, confronting my fears and s
howing the world confidence in my strengths.
Ralphie and Tiger could feel the new me; they told Izzy that not only could I defeat Rodrigues; “Izzy, it might be a regular old beat-down.”
I gave the daily grandstand full of young girls a show for their money. I danced and pranced under the speedbag as my hand pitter-pattered to the soulful sounds of the O’Jays and the Love Train.
People all over the world
Join hands
Start a love train, love train
The melody pulsed through my veins. The happiness of the song caused my audience to rise to their feet and shake their asses as I made the speed bag rattle and roll.
Izzy angrily stormed out of his office, the ever-present cigar protruding from the side of his mug. As he watched me, his appearance softened. He pulled the spent butt away and oddly smiled. His woes humanized this ancient warrior. For once, he realized that the sweet sounds resonating in this theater of fisticuffs were good for the soul. His young fighter was carefree and hungry again. What more could he ask for? That spent cigar, along with that lovable wizard, disappeared to his cave.
*****
Ralphie just cut the tape off my hands, and despite it being over ninety degrees outside, I still felt strong. I rushed into the shower. Albert and his wife were leaving the house in the care of their daughter for the evening, and I knew what kind of naughty deeds were in store!
The hot water streamed down my body; relaxing every muscle, my hands ran up and down the steely sinews. I felt so good; I knew I was prepared to deal with the best that Rodrigues had to offer. I gripped the soap and lathered my entire body; I took my time, Gia wasn’t going anywhere. Just then, Tommy Robinson, an up and coming welterweight, joined me in the shower. He was three showerheads away, and as he lathered up, I could feel his eyes on me. “Anthony, you’re in great shape.”
Say Goodbye and Goodnight Page 21