by Ron Gannon
Chapter 2. Stakeout
A large jellyfish quivered on a rocky beach. Nearby a dead horseshoe crab covered in green seaweed lay surrounded by clam shells. Dave and Jimmy strolled by. Red and Lumpy, several yards behind, tossed rocks into the bay.
Jimmy pointed at a dead seagull lying between large rocks. “See the bullet hole? I bet Mario Mazzela whacked it for crapping on his Buick.”
Mario Mazella worked for Dave's dad. Something he was ashamed of. So he abruptly changed the subject. “Red Sox won. Just two and a half games back.”
Jimmy adjusted his cap. “They're a come from behind team. They'll win the World Series this year.”
“Jimmy the eternal optimist.”
Red gaped at Lumpy and mouthed eternal optimist.
Lumpy made a facial shrug. “Beats me! Sounds like some kind of eye doctor.”
Red scampered up to Jimmy, taunting him. “The Sox suck!”
“Looking for a bruising, harelip?” Jimmy shoved Red.
The mere mention of the congenital deformity on his upper lip bothered Red. Jimmy knew that. Angrily he pushed back as hard as he could. “I’m not afraid of you, Jew boy. That’s for sure.”
“You oughta be.” Jimmy stared down at the much shorter boy.
Dave moved between them, touching Red's arm. “Calm down, Red.” Then he glanced at everybody. “What about tonight?”
Red picked up a stone and tossed it into the air toward the bay, disregarding the question until he had time to cool off.
Lumpy yelled out. “If we get caught, my father will kill me.”
“He won’t kill you, Lumpy,” replied Dave, watching the rock hit the water. "Good arm. You might be the next Dwight Evans. Red."
“You don’t know my father.” Lumpy moved next to Jimmy.
Jimmy smirked at him. "We know he leaves lumps on your head."
“I’ll stand guard outside, but I’m not going in.” Lumpy folded his muscular arms. "Dave, if you get caught, you’ll have a police record. Then you can’t be president."
Jimmy laughed. "Yeah, like somebody from Rhode Island has a chance. There it is. The gray house."
“I can’t understand why she doesn’t take it herself.” Dave turned, facing the dwelling.
"She could be one of them... exhibitionists." Red glanced over the two story high building before turning to Dave. "I’m in. I wanna see some more skin."
"Watch yourself, Red. You’re talking about the flesh and boobs of Dave’s true love," warned Lumpy, then mumbling, "I think we're all makin’ a big mistake. Stealing an empty jewelry box? Don't make sense." He looked down, shaking his head.
"Sentimental reasons." Jimmy pointed. “I’ll be performing there, tonight. Playing a burglar, again. And the Oscar goes to Jimmy Timber. I want to thank the little people.” He looked down at Red and grinned.
Forty feet beyond a cement staircase and a large wooden deck a door opened and a nude woman appeared in the doorway, behind a screen door.
“Wow!” Check her out," exclaimed Jimmy. “She has more hair between her legs than I have all over me. I'd love to play hide the kielbasa in that hairy forest. ”
“We better get out of here,” warned Dave. “She’s looking at us.”
“Maybe she’ll invite us in for milk and nookie.” Jimmy couldn't take his eyes off the naked woman.
Dave casually turned and faced the bay. “Stop staring.”
“You gotta be kiddin’. Two – make that four tits in one day. Let me enjoy God’s gifts to man,” said Jimmy, smiling broadly. "I think I'm in lust. I'll be thinking of her tonight at bedtime and for a long, long time."
The door slammed shut.
"Show’s over," said Dave. "Let’s go to the driving range and hit out a few balls. My treat."
Except for her midnight black hair, Florence looked like her dead twin sister, Cookie’s mother. Before soaking in her hot tub she liked to step outside, nude. She relished the cool air from the bay soothing her body. If the weird next door neighbor was outside, she would give him a thrill. The boys on the beach might tell their parents. That was the only thing preventing her from stepping outside.
Florence strutted away from the door. “That crime boss’s kid is surveying my house. What are you up to now?”
Cookie sat on a sofa, watching television. “Nothing!”
“Those boys are up to no good. I can tell by their faces.”
“Maybe they heard about a nude exhibitionist, Florence.”
“What about you and your friend?”
“We pull the shades down when we use the hot tub.”
Florence moved across the living room to a side window and peered out. “Yep, Peeping Gene’s there, as usual. I wave to him when I go on the porch. That embarrasses him, I'm sure. Doesn’t he look like momma's boy in ‘Psycho’?"
“Nah! Anthony Perkins was handsome. More like that cop killer in ‘The Onion Field’.”
“Not with those peepers. Care to join me in the hot tub?”
“If we can stay, I will.”
“You can but your father has to go. Screwing that gangster’s wife jeopardizes both of us. That crazy killer is apt to do anything now that he knows.”
Cookie crossed her arms and pouted. “You know Dad won’t let me stay.”
“Be sure to write, sweetheart.” said Florence as she swaggered out of the room.
Cookie stuck out her tongue and murmured, “Pervert!”