“You know I will blow the top of your brains out, Nacho.”
“Es un moyete.”
“
Es mi hermano
, Nacho—I owe him too much.”
“
Estás loco
, Carlito.”
“I’ll take my chances—you leave now, there’s been noise here; take the car and beat it before the bulls get here. Take Paniagua and Camaguey.”
“
Los Italianos—
”
“You contracted for three, you delivered three—case closed. If they find out about Earl being here today, that’s my worry, they all look alike to you. Why should you and I kill each other over these fuckin’ Italianos? Let me do it my way.”
Paniagua and Camaguey appeared at the door. They said, “Nacho, people opening doors, the
camarónes
will be here any minute.
Vamos a echar un pie
.”
Nacho picked up his shells from the floor.
“
Vamos andando
,” he said; as be got to the door he turned smiling at me. “I could kill you now but I do not choose to—your loyalty to your friend is a rare thing in this business. I am impressed—but it will get you killed. At your funeral I will say, he was a loyal friend, crazy, but loyal.
Adiós
, Carlito.”
“
Adiós
, Nacho.”
And they split. I got Earl to Beekman Hospital in a taxi. He was hit in the stomach and in bad pain but he could hear me. “Give me your wallet, Earl, don’t have no identification on you—tell them your name is Johnson, Earl Johnson. I’ll keep tabs on you that way while you’re in the hospital—nobody will know you were in New York—then you can hop a plane home.”
“My brother, Carlito—”
“Forget about him, Earl, he’s gone. He was bad news from the get go—everybody told you—and he had a bad
attitude for you; he was gritty but he was greedy and he’d of got us all killed. You did more than enough for him, mark it paid—you got your family to think about.”
I carried him to the door of the emergency entrance. “This far as I go, Earl. There may be cops in there. I don’t want no static now—you was drinking, you ended up in the Village, you was mugged, had your wallet taken, you put up a fight and got shot, got it?”
“Thanks, ol’ buddy.”
“I’ll have a broad down here to visit you, whatever you need. Catch you later.”
Never seen either of them cats again. Earl made it back to Saint Croix and got out of all the shit. You entitled, Earl. Nacho finally ran out of luck. He got whacked out in Miami. Nacho was in a joint, coked to the gills—this young kid who Nacho hardly knew came in complaining to Nacho that his girl had been abused. Nacho went out to the parking lot and these thugs shot him in the head. Didn’t even know who he was and didn’t care. Jesus, Nacho Reyes—unbelievable.
8
I
TOOK A PLANE TO
P
UERTO
R
ICO
. J
UST TO GET AWAY FROM
all the hassle and shooting going on in New York. I heard Prohibition was a bitch, but the dope rumbles sure has buried a lot of people in my time. I got a small room in a guest house in Isla Verde, stayed out of the fancy hotels and late-night joints. I wanted to rest up and I wasn’t carrying no piece and didn’t want to run into no half-badass looking for a rep. So I just lay around the beaches— no shave, just a pair of shorts—my head got together. Then I teamed up with this fox from Ohio. She was a schoolteacher and into the hippie scene but she was a knocked-out-looking broad—blonde hair, green eyes. Here was me, with no diamond pinkie ring and walkin’ around in my drawers and sneakers, making time with this doll. This new scene was really somethin’. I guess I was born too early—all this protest shit can’t be all bad if it’s made all these freaky heads available.
Her name was Gail or Gale. She was a real American type—anglowasp bit—but she was all shook up about
Vietnam and the poor and worried about the lettuce and the grapes in California and all that bullshit—unbelievable—but looking as good as she was I went right along. I told her I was with the poverty program in New York and doing a lot of work on my own time with the Lords and with spade gangs, and I’d rap about commitment and orientation like a welfare dude. We flew to Saint Thomas, then we chartered a boat and just bummed around. Beef, Trunk, Drake’s Anchorage, Virgin Gorda—all the islands for a couple of weeks. A Hollywood scene starring me and Gail. She smoked grass and I’d smoke a joint with her, but I told her I was against all drugs and that she should put that scene behind her on account of dope was a drag on the revolution. Lordy.
I was in love—again. She was into music. I got her some of the Sinatra ballad albums and we’d get high and goof behind them—she was young but Frank can talk to anybody. “My Way” is Paul Anka’s song for Sinatra; on a night when we was real cozy anchored off Saint John’s we got to rapping about favorite songs and I told Gail this song has a special message for me and if she could dig the song, she could dig me—the moon was out and we went into a great clinch.
Qué
party!
I put in a call to New York and got the word that everything was okay by Rocco, come home right away. Me and Gail flew back to San Juan—I bought her an outfit all in white—she had a heavy tan. When she got all dolled up to go out that night she looked like a movie star. Like to fall out when I saw her. I ain’t a profane cat, but I had to say, “Thank you God, for them fine chibs.” Of course,
I was clean m’self. You must be doing somethin’ right, Carlito, here you are pushing your forties, nearly everybody is in jail or been wasted, and here is you still out there with a young thing on your arm. You devil! It was our last night. We caught the show at the Tropicoro. Damn if it wasn’t Paul Anka hisself. We had to be at ringside although it cost me a yard. He sang our song, we drank champagne, held hands—shit, ain’t no more after this. Like Gail would say, groovy.
After the show, we wandered into the casino; gambling is not my bag but Gail wanted to shoot a hand. Bad news. No sooner I walked into the casino Cesar come over to us. Cesar was an old Harlem boy—he’d been a knock-around guy as a kid but he’d been straight for years, been working as a croupier in P.R. and now was an assistant manager in the casino. He’d made it the hard way and I gave him a lot of credit.
“Carlito, I’m in trouble. I need your help. Walberto and Monchin—you know them, from the 103rd Street crowd—been running a murder game on me. I won’t okay their credit—they are beaters—so last night they got real heavy on me, tried to gorilla me with a piece. I can’t deal with these motherfuckers, Carlito—you know my job here. Can you straighten them out for me? I hate to bother you but I got a family now.”
He’s worried about his family—who’s worried about me? Jesus! What am I, the fuckin’ Red Cross?
“Okay, Cesar, I’ll hang around awhile; maybe I can talk some sense to these guys.”
Gail had a funny look on her face. I guess she got the picture real quick-like—the money, the clothes on me now, the wise-guy talk.
I told her, “Wait in the lobby for me, Gail. If anything happens, you don’t know me—don’t get involved. Otherwise, I’ll be with you in a little while.” She split and I hung around the crap table.
In walked Walberto and Monchin. Walberto was white and Monchin was black, so people would laugh when they said they was brothers, but they was really cousins. They were all duded up in tuxedos and patent leather so they must have made a score in New York. Never seen one without the other—two lightweights, but Monchin was sneaky fast and would hurt you. Walberto was the slicker of the two but he was jive. If you got to him Monchin would go along.
“
Ola
, Carlito—wha’s happening, my man! Monchin, dig who’s here—Carlito.”
“I got a beef with you, Walberto, let’s go to the back of the room.”
The three of us went to a back corner of the casino— place was crowded but nobody was paying us any mind.
“Qué pasa, mi hermano?
Monchin and me always been tight with you, Carlito, why you sounding us?”
I was rapping to Walberto but I had my eye on Monchin, who probably had the piece.
“Cesar is my man in P.R.—now you gonna come here from out of town to gorilla my man here. You crazy? Don’t you know there are heavy people into this casino—
and you gonna come in here with a rice-and-beans shakedown? Back off, motherfucker, and tell your brother not to be bad-eyeing me, because if he makes a move you gonna get the first shot in the face and my people here will take care of the rest—okay?”
“
Coño
, Carlito, I’m surprised that you should say that about us—me and Monchin always look out for Cesar— he’s one of the boys. I’m surprised—right, Monchin?”
“Yeah, Berto, Cesar’s our boy.”
“Then it must be a misunderstanding. Come here, Cesar. Cesar, the boys say it is a misunderstanding, a breakdown in the communication; they didn’t mean no harm, they ain’t gonna bother you. However, Cesar, if you see the boys around town in any joint you send them a bottle right away—do the right thing, okay?”
I shoulda been a diplomat. That’s me, always trying to straighten things out without nobody getting hurt and everybody making a dollar. But what do I get, a bum rep as a troublemaker, that’s what they say about me. Fuck ’em.
My girl was waiting in the lobby.
“I left, Charley, but I came back.”
“Why?”
“Charley, you’ve been playing a part for me and it wasn’t necessary. I don’t like to be made a fool of.”
“Listen, Gail, what am I supposed to tell you, that I’m a hoodlum? What’s the point? I didn’t ask you where you came from or where you’re going. I’m only interested in the Gail standing in front of me; I couldn’t care less what you did in Lawrence, Ohio.”
“Lorain, Charley—Lorain, Ohio.”
“That’s what I said, Lorain, Ohio. Yeah, I consorted with known criminals—uh—bad guys—when I was a kid, but that’s in the past—in the new world that don’t mean nothin’. As far as me being in the socio bag, Gail, I ain’t jiving you, I been helping people in the ghetto— why, just the other day, this cat got stabbed on 111th Street, I took him to the hospital even though the seats in my Lincoln got full of blood—that’s typical of me. Like a goodwill ambassador—here tonight a working man was being abused by these two thugs, I intervened and prevented a problem. People don’t give you credit for things like that. I can’t believe that you’d walk out on me without giving me a chance to explain what it’s like to come up in a jungle.”
These socio broads always go heavy for that shit about the jungle. I had to pull out all the stoppers—I wasn’t gonna forfeit my last piece on my last night, looking good as she was. Gawd, she was a doll.
“Charley, we have Puerto Ricans in Lorain; I know what your people have to go through. Look, let’s forget it—let’s just have some fun.”
Well all right. And fun we had. She had me dancing to rock music at the Hunca Munca, then we danced at the El Chico, then we hit Annando’s, Danny’s, the Wine Cellar, drunk on one another—gonna play the string out. Don’t know if it was the booze or what but Gail was getting misty-eyed and wouldn’t let go of me.
“Charley, what about us? Is there any chance something can come of us? I don’t know whether it’s the
beauty of these islands or what, but I’ve never felt this way before. Will I ever see you again?”
You know I was stoned because I got noble and didn’t put down no spiel—I leveled with her, guess I had a feeling for her I didn’t realize.
“I don’t know, Gail. I’m into some bad scenes. My life ain’t tropical beaches and sunny skies—in the city it’s different, it’s asphalt and gray and busted windows—I’m different. I move around a lot, get into hassles. You ain’t ready for that, and because I go for you, I’m telling you in front. Believe me, if I had anything to offer you, I’d never let you go. But I know myself—I get restless, I’d hurt you. I’m poison, Gail—don’t get mixed up with me.”
We was both cryin’ in our champagne. It was great. Then we went to her hotel room and had each other for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
Qué jéva!
That evening she went with me to the airport. I didn’t want her to, she insisted. I told her to stay in the cab and go back to the hotel, but she got out. I got a flight on standby. We had a few minutes just holding hands in the middle of the terminal, not saying anything. Then I could see the tears.
“Let go, Gail. It’s for the best.”
Those pretty green eyes were flooding now. I was wishing I could say something to her, for her. Like my life is a garbage can, I’m a street fighter, a dope pusher, even been a pimp—get away, girl, don’t get into my mess, I ain’t gonna be around long. But I said, “Tell you what, baby, write down your home address and telephone, I’ll get in touch with you next week after I’ve
taken care of some business. Then I’ll fly out to see you or I’ll have you fly into New York and you can stay with me—we’ll give it a try, how’s that?”
“You mean it, Charley?”
“Have I ever lied to you?” I lied.
She wrote her address down on a piece of paper and pressed it into my hand—all this fuss over a mug like me. Unbelievable.
My plane was leaving. “Okay, Gail, no more tears, you’re gonna have me crying—now you turn around and start walking, you got a great wiggle. That’s the first thing I dug about you—c’mon, lemme see you wiggle away.”
I watched her all the way to the end of the terminal until she was gone. Then I let the paper out of my hand onto the ground.
Adiós, rubia
. I got on the plane dragging my ass low. I didn’t know why but that night my way didn’t seem so hot. Like I was unsure of myself, my way of life—bad vibes, man, bad vibes. I shoulda listened. And like always when things is so bad they can’t get worse—wha’ happen? They get worse.
9
S
O THEY HAD THEIR SITDOWN OVER THE
R
EGGIE AFFAIR
. Rocco was my mouthpiece. The joint was Messina’s Restaurant in guinea Brooklyn around Bath Beach, Gravesend Bay. The jukebox was playing “Mala Femina” so right away I knew I was in trouble. Me and Rocco sat at the bar.