Mama’s Gone

by Leopold Borstinski

  “Am I going to lose you too?”

  “You haven’t lost Frank. He just doesn’t know how to settle down anywhere.”

  “And you?”

  “I’d like to grab this summer if I can. The next time I have this much vacation will be when I retire.”

  “Okay darling. You deserve that if nothing else. Then what?”

  Alice slipped off her inflatable mattress and swam to the edge nearest to Mary Lou. Then she hauled herself out the pool and sat opposite Mama.

  “I want to work with you and Bobby, of course.”

  Mary Lou stiffened and shuffled on the lounger.

  “What do you think we do - apart from making a few investments?”

  Alice laughed and wrung the excess water from her below-the-shoulder length hair.

  “Investments. Please? Frank and I aren’t stupid. All the discrete conversations in the summerhouse. The men in dark suits who go through this place like its their office. And Milton? Do you know what the kids at Montgomery High used to say about him?”

  “Come with me.”

  They strode past the pool and into the summerhouse where Bobby sat, working at the desk. He swung round at the noise of the door opening.

  “Alice wants to work with us.”

  “Do you have a résumé?”

  “Be serious. And she says the kids have known about our business for years.”

  “And what is it we do, Alice?”

  “Heroin and cocaine mainly. At least that’s what you guys talked about most before I skipped off to Berkeley.”

  Mary Lou stared at Bobby with gritted teeth and he looked right back at her.

  “Are you a cop?”

  “No. What makes you think I might be with law enforcement?”

  “You’ll understand why later. You’re right, we started with narcotics but we used some of those profits to diversify into... other realms.”

  “Such as?”

  “Prostitution and gambling mainly.”

  Alice whistled out of respect. She and Frank figured out the drug angle when they snuck up to the summerhouse and eavesdropped on the conversations going on inside the taboo building. But she hadn’t realized how busy they’d been while she had been away.

  “Like I said: I want to help. I’m smart and I could help to drive the business forward.”

  “You’ve been talking about having someone to assist with logistics. She could start there and we can see how she handles herself.”

  Bobby nodded. He knew this wasn't a discussion. Mary Lou had decided and this conversation was informational only. He thought it a good idea, but his opinion was not sought. So he didn’t offer it. Alice always had a sensible head on her shoulders and was bright as a button. Frank would be a better choice to deal with a Mexican stand-off but he doubted if either had fired a gun in their lives. Mary Lou had wanted them to have a normal childhood and not get involved in their criminal ways. Something had changed her mind, clearly.

  FRANK TOOK A limo from LaGuardia to a chichi hotel in SoHo. The decor comprised white walls and floors with every piece of furniture made of transparent plastic. He dropped a C-note on the concierge before he hopped up to his suite so he was guaranteed delivery of a girl and a snort or two of cocaine within an hour of tipping the bellboy.

  Having fucked her twice, he got bored with the skirt and sent her packing - with a respectable gratuity because she’d been good while she lasted. That left the rest of the pile of coke for himself and he cut sufficient lines to keep him going until morning.

  Once room service had delivered his breakfast, Frank called down to the concierge to arrange for more female companionship. The two hookers kept him amused for the entire afternoon but he got bored again. Up to some designer stores on Fifth Avenue and back to the hotel bar to see if his new threads attracted the right kind of woman: easy to impress with big tits and few opinions of her own. The bar was full of his target market because so many rich, dumb men with high libidos and few social skills inhabited these kinds of drinking holes.

  With a credit card, which had never received a single payment from him, Frank soon found himself surrounded by adorable asses. The only question left in his mind was which one to pick for tonight. He felt like going clubbing and didn’t want to be let down by a girl with poor rhythm. He chuckled to himself when he realized when he brought her back to his suite he didn’t want her to have poor rhythm there either. Fuck-a-doodle-do.

  The vintage champagne flowed and the chicks hovered around the rooster. Bubbly conversation continued into the evening as every now and again he popped into the washroom to take another hit of his snow. Each time he walked away from those short skirts, he risked some cock taking over his flock of fuckables.

  As predictable as the rising sun, when next Frank returned he found some Latino hunk stood by his ice bucket entertaining his ladies. The guy didn’t yield an inch and carried on talking as though Frank wasn’t there.

  “Hey, bud. You’re in the way of my champagne.”

  “You can take it in a minute when I’ve finished telling my friends about what went down last week in the studio.”

  “No-one wants to hear. Move on, buddy. I need to get to my drink.”

  The ice bucket was on the bar and the bartender maintained a watchful eye on its contents - Frank looked after those who looked after Frank. The barkeep listened in to the conversation between the two men but said nothing. Just carried on cleaning the whiskey glass in his hand.

  The Martini Bar in the Courtney Hotel was renowned for two things. First, as its name suggested, they mixed a mean martini. Second, all the waitresses in the bar wore the same uniform: a light gray one-piece cotton-and-lycra body suit which had long sleeves to cover the servers’ arms but no legs whatsoever. Every crevice of the women’s bodies were on view.

  Just as he uttered his last words to encourage the Latino to step down, a waitress hustled by and the guy stopped paying attention to Frank and stared at the woman’s crotch. There was something about the shape of her thighs and roundness of her ass that made him want to see more. Big mistake.

  Frank grabbed Julio’s hand that held his champagne glass and twisted it behind his back. This caused Julio to turn and face the bar and Frank seized the hair at the back of his head and push his skull down onto the bar. In one smooth action, the barkeeper snatched the ice bucket and its contents off the clear plastic surface a quarter of a second before Julio’s forehead smashed down on the unforgiving hardened material.

  The women surrounding them screamed and scattered to leave Frank alone to assault Julio further. Blood gushed from his head and the bartender leaned forward.

  “Mr. Lagotti...”

  Frank pushed Julio’s skull into the bar more and looked up.

  “I think the gentleman has received your message loud and clear. Why not let him go now?”

  “Are we through?”

  Saliva, blood and a tooth left the mook’s mouth and a brief nod showed consent. Frank released him from his grip and pushed his body further down the bar away from his perch.

  “How do I look?”

  “I’d say you should pop to the bathroom. Looks like you might have a spot or two of dirt on your shirt. By the time you come back, I’ll have set up another bottle - on the house. None of the last one was lost, but it might leave an unpleasant taste in the mouth, anyway.”

  Frank did as he was told and returned with a smile on his face and a white ring around his nostrils. He swigged a glass of champagne and then took stock of the room. A quick check that Julio had left and Frank collected chicks again. Trouble was, his heart was no longer in it and by the time the bottle was empty, Frank decided to leave.

  “What entertainment can you offer me this evening?”

  “Chilled or high octane?”

  “Do I look chilled?”

  The concierge smiled and picked up the phone to reserve a table in the VIP area of an 80s Old Skool club night.

  6

  THE PHO
NE CALL came through direct to Mary Lou. Although not inevitable, she couldn‘t remember a time when Frank hadn‘t asked for help to get himself out of a hole.

  “Hi Mama.”

  “Hi Frank.”

  “I‘m in a spot of trouble.”

  “Where are you and what‘s the problem?”

  “They got me on intent to sell.”

  “Where Frank?”

  “Ninth Precinct.”

  “Manhattan?”

  “Yeah. How long since you were arrested?”

  “Just got here. They processed me and then I demanded my constitutional phone call.”

  “Say nothing but be polite. I‘ll send someone over to sort this out.”

  “Thanks Mama.”

  Mary Lou hung up the phone and sighed. That boy never learns. What did I do to deserve him? Then she thought back on her life for a moment, shivered and realized the answer. Dragging herself to the present, she called a New York attorney and briefed Harvey Knight on the situation.

  “It‘s a pain but can you get him out of there today? I don‘t want Frank spending a night in a police cell.”

  “Will do. You know the best thing for him might be to find out how the other half live.”

  “He‘s my baby.”

  “Who is old enough to sell narcotics to an undercover cop.“

  “Just free him and spare me your lectures on child rearing.”

  “Not a lecture, but the best legal advice I‘ve ever offered you - the small fortune you've paid to cover the amount of my time I‘ve spent extricating him from law enforcement holding facilities.”

  The silence on the line meant Harvey‘s words hit home.

  “Get him out, Harvey.”

  FRANK STARED AT Harvey across a precinct table. As ever with the boy, there was a story and an excuse.

  “I was at a party on Avenue A.”

  “How‘d you hear about it?”

  “A pickup in my hotel bar... We were all relaxing and laughing and having a good time.”

  Harvey nodded. He understood what a good time meant to Frank.

  “And I was sharing the coke. Everyone was doing a line. Nobody seemed bothered. Then one black bitch asks if I can get some for her. Now I‘m always willing to oblige a young lady in distress but I don‘t know her from jack shit. So I play it cool and tell her I'll help her if she helps me and we go to find somewhere more congenial to conduct business if you get my drift.”

  “Was there anywhere to your liking in the apartment?”

  “Truth was the only place to be alone was the bathroom. So we go to it and afterwards I ask her how much she wants to buy. With her scrawny ass still sat on my dick she asks for four 8-balls. I tell her I can get that weight to her tomorrow. She pushes to have it there and then, and encourages me by getting on her knees and sucking me off.”

  “And you relented?”

  “Couldn‘t think of a good reason not to help the skank out. She showed me the green and we hopped over to my hotel. Up in my room, I took out the snow, she had a taste and just before I thought we were done, she pulls a gun and a badge from fuck-knows where and makes me assume the position. I swear thirty seconds later we were joined by the rest of the squad. Was a set up, man.”

  Harvey‘s legal pad had filled up with notes.

  “Did she instigate the sexual intercourse or did you?”

  “Me, but she didn‘t object.”

  “And the oral?”

  “All her own work. My plan was to ball her back in the hotel.”

  “And you made no attempt to ask for money until she mentioned it?”

  “Yessir.”

  “I assume she never spoke of her chosen career.”

  “It was a party. Who talks about how they earn a living?”

  “Interesting they haven‘t charged you with any sex crimes. Protocol should have stopped her from fucking you. The drugs charges: we can make them go away. A quiet word with the man upstairs if due process can‘t extinguish their flame. I‘m more worried about why you were part of a sting... How long you been in town?”

  “Couple of days. No more.”

  “No disrespect but have you got into any other trouble since you arrived here?”

  He stared and tried to remember. The amount of cocaine coursing through his veins meant his memory was not operating at full speed. Harvey waited. Frank tried to wind back time and listed his activities after landing at the airport: girls, drugs, booze - and not much else. His blank expression spoke volumes.

  “Any altercations?”

  “Huh?”

  “Fights?”

  Frank shut his eyes for ten seconds and tried to think some more. Then his eyes flashed open wide and he smiled.

  “Not a fight exactly. I mean, I can handle myself.”

  He described the hassle with Julio while Harvey continued to take notes. Anyone stood over Harvey‘s shoulder would have seen he had drawn a perfect cube underneath his legal assessments of Frank‘s situation. He put his pen down and closed over the pad.

  “Frank, sounds like you made a mistake, dear boy. From what you say, I think you had a tussle with a well connected New York family. They have extensive narcotics operations across the Five Boroughs and enough reach to get the cops to set you up. Chances are the woman was theirs and not a real cop. You sure she was black and not Hispanic?”

  “Now you ask, dunno. What‘s the name of the family she‘s with?”

  “Don‘t worry about that. If I were you, as soon as you‘re out of here, check out the Courtney and leave town. You do not need the mob breathing down your neck.”

  “Fuck-a-doodle-do.”

  DESPITE HIMSELF, FRANK left his hotel and headed off to JFK. He had no idea where to go but he was certain he‘d had enough of America. What was the world coming to when you found yourself in jail for banging a girl who wanted some snow? Besides, the Latino had no right to take over his women - and it didn‘t matter what tribe he came from.

  So a trip abroad made sense. At least for a short while. And wouldn‘t Mama be pleased if he returned with a new business partner? He and Alice figured out all about the narcotics trafficking and Frank reckoned that was something he could turn his hand to as he understood the product intimately - cocaine anyway - and handled himself well when cutting deals. Frank‘d got a skank to suck him off for the price of a few 8-balls only last night.

  With his limited knowledge of world geography, Frank chose Spain as his destination. It was close to Africa but Europe sounded a lot more civilized. Once he‘d wrapped his head around the idea that his dollars were no good to him, Frank discovered the joys of being an American abroad.

  He could be as obnoxious as he wanted, provided he kept a smile on his face because the local muchachos had no idea what he was saying. Frank used as little of his own pesos as possible and slapped all he could on his credit card. Only the small bars and drug dealers demanded cash. After a few weeks, he hopped from Madrid to Barcelona and then onto Seville. Then he bumped into a bunch of kids who were heading to Marbella and he hitched a ride with them.

  The days of hardcore Baleairic beats had faded, but that didn‘t mean there was no life left in the clubs. With a different music scene, to the ones he was used to, came a different drug of choice: ecstasy. You would be forgiven for thinking the west coast student communities would have embraced the tablet that made you want to hug anyone who moved. But no. There was more money to be generated from powder than tabs so organized crime wasn‘t too interested - including the Lagottis.

  Frank was in his element though: dancing beyond dawn, off his head on drugs, surrounded by semi-naked women. When he wasn‘t dancing with them, he was fucking them and if he wasn‘t doing either of those two things then he was asleep. A twenty-four-hour party person.

  Three months since he hit the southern coast and all he had to show for the experience was a sore dick and intimate knowledge of every ass in the neighborhood. He woke up one Thursday to find his face by someone‘s bush. Fra
nk looked around and saw he was in a bedroom but he had no idea where he was or who owned the pubes near his lips.

  He gave them a quick lick but was swatted away like his mouth was some kind of fly. His feet were on a pillow and somehow he‘d turned round in his sleep. Or they‘d both crashed out half way through playing. A dirty grin spread across his face.

  Frank was thirsty, so he hauled his carcass off the bed in search of liquid. The studio apartment offered him a sink in the bathroom and another in the kitchenette. There were foul dishes piled high in the kitchen and spent needles lying next to the toilet. He took his chances with the sink faucet and glugged back several handfuls of water.

  Then he turned around to check out the devastation from the night before. The girl wore only a blue bra with yellow polka dots and snored loudly. Frank walked over and moved her head so it was resting on the mattress and the noises abated. That helped him think more clearly. Almost before starting, his attention wandered off as he noticed the roundness of her tits peeping out from the sides of the skimpy underwear.

  What was he doing? He had told himself he was going to forge a new connection for Mama but all he‘d achieved was a heavy dose of sex, drugs and rock ‘n‘ roll. He needed to get his head in the game. Frank opened the fridge as an auto-response to his stomach rumbling. The girl mumbled something foreign and rolled over face down.

  There was nothing to eat except raw vegetables and butter so he gave up on the idea of breakfast and turned his attention to the bush on the bed. She was stretched out like a starfish and he scratched his balls for no good reason. He felt his hard-on and decided not to waste it. Frank considered taking her from behind but experience taught him he‘d need to wake her up to get an orgasm out of the coupling. Nah, too much effort. Instead he jerked himself off and made sure his spunk landed all over her back. A gift of love for when she surfaced.

  That night he took the ferry across the Mediterranean Sea and docked in Tangiers. If he couldn‘t make some solid contacts here, what was the point?