Sally Boy (28 page)

“What trouble?” Sal asked cagily.

“That club downtown? Where you guys went to
celebrate the birth of Jimmy’s kid.”

Acting as if unaware as to who ratted out
Sal about the shooting Jimmy, Joey, and Tony feigned surprise.

“I swear it was nothing, Carmine,” Sal plead
defensively.

“You call blowing some guys fucking balls
off nothing?”

“He pulled on me. I had no choice.”

“Maybe you should listen when they tell you
to leave something alone. The Don don’t want any unnecessary heat
from the Feds. Understand? Besides, we can’t go around shooting up
a place that we don’t got a piecea. It don’t make us look
good.”

“It won’t happen again. I promise.”

“Make sure it don’t.”

“It looks like you guys are having a party.
What’s the occasion?” Sal asked, desperate to change the
subject.

Anthony drew his hands together almost as if
praying and slowly waved them back-and-forth. “What? You forgot
today is my birthday?”

“Madonn! I fucking forgot. Happy birthday.”
Making his way to his friend, Sal kissed him on the cheek.

“Me, Carmine, and the fellas are getting
primed up for later.”

“Why? What’s going on later?”

“We’re all going up to Yonkers. Carmine got
this horse that can’t lose. Plus he’s a long, long shot.”

“Ming! That’s fucking beautiful.”

“There’s nothing like betting on a sure
thing,” Anthony slurred as he sipped his drink.

“What’s he going off at?”

Before anyone could answer, Carmine blurted,
“Sally Boy, I want you to know that you been doing some good work
for us. You too, Anthony.”

“Thanks, Carmine,” Sal said, suspicious of
the praise.

“Don Lucho wants you to know he appreciates
it, too.”

“Well, tell Don Lucho I said ‘thanks.’”

“Tell him yourself. He wants to see you in
the back office.”

“Now?” Sal asked, surprised.

“Yeah, get the fuck back there.”

Sal headed to the back and tentatively stuck
his head into Don Lucho’s private office.

“Don Lucho, how are you? Carmine told me you
wanted to talk to me.”

Don Lucho nodded. “Come in and sit down.
Close the door.”

Shutting the door behind him, Sal sat in a
chair facing the Don.

Seated in a sizable wingback oxblood leather
chair behind a big desk, the Don’s stare suggested anger. “I want
you to know that you have done a very good job for us,
Salvatore.”

“Thank you.”

“The reason I wanted to talk to you is
because I have a problem. A big problem...” With a clinched fist,
the Don struck the table hard. “...I don’t like problems! I need
for you to make my problem go away.”

“What can I do for you?”

“It seems one of my men has been skimming
from his collections. That ungrateful fucking piecea shit, I want
you to...” Don Lucho made a pretend gun with his right hand and he
pumped his thumb twice. “...make sure he don’t see the sun come up
tomorrow.”

“Who?” Sal asked, skeptical of the
charge.

“Anthony,” Don Lucho said quietly. “He’s
become a disgrace by betraying us.”

Sal hunched over in his chair as if he were
just kicked in the stomach. His mind raced as he tried to think of
some way out of this. “With all due respect, Don Lucho, I grew up
with Anthony. I know him better than anyone. I know in my heart
that he would never steal from you. Is it possible there’s been a
mistake?”

“Are you questioning an order from me?”

“No, Don Lucho. Never! But Anthony’s like my
brother. I was just thinking that maybe...maybe there was another
way we could deal with this.”

“Either he doesn’t see tomorrow or you
don’t. Decide!” the Don said coldly.

Perspiration beaded on Sal’s brow and his
heart pounded. He recalled one of the many lessons his father had
taught him. If “they” ever wanted to get you, it would be your
friend or someone you trusted who would be sent to do the deed. Not
an enemy or a person you didn’t trust, because you’d see them
coming from a mile away. Still, Sal couldn’t accept that this fat
piece of shit was ordering him to kill his best friend as if he
were ordering a meal in a restaurant. Silently, Sal debated whether
or not he should tell the Don to go fuck himself. However, Sal knew
that if he did, both he and Anthony would be whacked.

Don Lucho leaned forward and barked, “Do you
understand what I’m saying to you? Are you prepared to do what I
asked?”

“Si, Don Lucho,” Sal responded softly.

“Carmine was right about you, you do
understand respect and honor. Young people today do not believe in
such things any more. You’ll go far with us if you remember to
never bite the hand that feeds you. Capisi?”

“Si, ou capisi.”

“You can go now. But remember what I told
you.”

Tentatively, Sal left the office and made
his way back to where the fellas were still playing cards. Taking
an empty seat next to Anthony, he requested passively, “Deal me in
next hand. Awright?”

“How’d everything go?” Anthony asked,
offering Sal a cigarette.

“Everything’s good,” Sal muttered.

Seeming to delight in Sal’s dilemma, Carmine
smiled. “Well, let’s have another round of drinks. This is a
fucking party, ain’t it? And besides, you only live once, right.”
Turning to the other men sitting at the table, Carmine shouted,
“C’mon you fucking deadbeats, ante up. I’m gonna take all your
fucking money.”

After several more hours of drinking,
gambling, and bullshitting, Anthony became restless. Looking at his
watch, he was somewhat surprised at how late it was. “C’mon, you
guys. We gotta get going. I don’t wanna miss the first race,”
Anthony stated with the eloquence of a drunk.

“Take it easy, Anthony. Don’t be in such a
fucking rush.”

Glaring at Sal, Carmine ordered angrily,
“Sally Boy, go get your fucking car and bring it around!”

“Yeah, awright.” Sal replied submissively
and left the club.

Pulling around the block, Sal parked right
in front and waited. A good time later, Anthony stumbled out of the
front door and clumsily fell into the passenger seat.

“Where’s everybody else?” Sal asked sounding
annoyed.

“Don Lucho needs Carmine and the fellas to
take carea something important. Here, Carmine wants you to put his
bets in for him.” Anthony handed him a roll of bills and a piece of
paper. “So I guess it’s just gonna be you and me, Sally.”

Sal punched the steering wheel and shouted,
“God damn it!”

“What are you getting so excited for? Forget
about ’em. I don’t give a fuck if any of those jerk-offs come. I
really feel lucky tonight. We’re gonna make a big fucking score,
Sally Boy. I can feel it. So let’s go, huh?”

Shaking his head in disgust, Sal started his
car and sped off.

* * * * *

The noise at the track only made it more
difficult for Sal to think. Trapped by his loyalties, Sal was at an
impasse. No matter how much he played the angles, he just couldn’t
figure any way around having to kill his best friend. Leaning over
the railing, Anthony was screaming and clapping like a crazy man.
He was so drunk that he almost fell over the rail, but Sal managed
to pull him back onto his feet. “Be careful, Anthony! You’re gonna
crack your fucking skull open.”

“I’m just having a good time.”

“You’re acting like we never got a horse
before. What’s the matter with you?”

“I just feel so fucking good about the way
things are working out. I mean we’re making good...okay not so good
but we’re making some money with the Mirragios. I get to work with
my best friend in the whole world. Who knows, maybe someday we’ll
be the ones calling the shots insteada taking orders from those
fucking mamalukes.”

“You’re sure that’s it, Anthony. ’cause
you’re really fucking juiced. You’re sure there ain’t nothing else
going on here? Maybe something you wanna tell me about?”

“You’re right!” Anthony said with a big
grin. “There is more going on than just the usual bullshit.”

“What is it?” Sal asked in a serious
tone.

“Lisa’s pregnant! Isn’t that fucking great?
We’re gonna get married next week in Vegas. I was gonna wait to
tell you, but I’m feeling so fucking good. God, can you believe I’m
gonna have a kid?”

“Yeah, that’s great,” Sal said in a subdued
tone.

“Wait, there’s more, Sally Boy. We’ve always
been closer than brothers ever since you moved into the
neighborhood. I can still remember the day we first met. You just
come in off the boat. You couldn’t even speak English. Me and Mikey
taught you how to play stickball right on Arthur Avenue!
Remember?”

“I remember.”

Tears began to well up in Anthony’s eyes.
“What the fuck happened to us? We was like the three fucking
musketeers. We was gonna be friends forever. I can’t fucking
believe he’s gone, Sal. I miss him so much, you know.”

“I miss him, too. What did you wanna tell
me, Anthony?”

Wiping his eyes, Anthony lit a cigarette.
“Well, you’re the closest thing I got to a brother. And I...no
we...me and Lisa, I mean...want you to be my best man at the
wedding.”

“Is that it?”

Insulted, Anthony fired back, “That’s all
you got to say to me?”

“I’m...I’m sorry. It’ll be an honor,
Anthony.” Hugging his friend, Sal kissed him on the cheek.

“But wait, there’s more. Me and Lisa was
hoping that you and Chrissy would christen our kid? You know, be
his Godparents. So what do you say?”

A distant look came into Sal’s eyes.

“Hello, anyone home?” Anthony waved his hand
in front of Sal’s face. “What’s the matter, Sally? You’re gonna
fucking be there for me, right?”

Sal forced a smile. “Have I ever let you
down before?”

“Never! You was always there for all your
friends, ever since we was kids. You ain’t never turned your back
on nobody.”

Peeking at his watch, Sal knew his time was
running short. “Anthony, let’s go tie one on, huh? I mean, let’s
get stinking fucking drunk. You know, to celebrate your wedding and
your future kid. What do you say?”

“I thought that’s what we was doing.”
Anthony laughed. “Hey Sally, don’t forget the name of the horse.
‘Lucky Days,’ he’s the number three horse in the seventh race.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, Lucky Days. The three
horse in the seventh. Anthony, I gotta ask you
something...something that might sound kinda strange coming from
me. But I want you to tell me the truth.”

“You can ask me anything. You know
that.”

“Swear to me that your answer, no matter
what, will be the truth.”

“I swear.”

“Has there ever been any problem with your
count?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean, have you ever come up short?
Ever?”

“What, are you fucking kidding me? My
collections go right to Carmine. He counts ’em. Then Carmine gives
’em to Don Lucho. Believe me, if there was ever a fucking problem,
Carmine woulda had my ass in the office right away. You know how
much that cocksucker loves money? What? Did you hear
something?”

“No! I was just asking you a question. Don’t
go getting so fucking paranoid. Awright?” Remembering the story
Jimmy told at the nightclub about Pauly Mopes, Sal was now
convinced that it was Carmine who was skimming.

“For a second there I thought I was in
trouble.”

“C’mon, let’s get another drink. I’m buying
for the rest of the night. Whatever you want, it’s on me,
okay?”

“You know, Sal. We shoulda come to the track
more when we was kids. I really like horses,” Anthony said,
sounding like a teen-ager again.

“Yeah, me too.”

“You know what I was thinking about the
other day, Sally?”

“What?”

“Your eighteenth birthday party. Man that
was one fucking good time. Me and Mikey got so fucking high that
night. I got my dick sucked by some broad out in the back alley.
Your Pop really knows how to throw a shindig. All you did all night
was hang around with Nicole. Don’t get me wrong, she was a piecea
ass. Damn, she had some big fucking tits. Did you ever throw her
the ol’ brascholl or what?”

“What do you think?”

“Hey, whatever happened to her,
anyways?”

Sal shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess she got
married and moved up state like everybody else.”

“I’m sorry, man! Did I bring up a bad
subject?”

“Not at all.”

“Besides, I really like this girl you’re
with now. She’s fucking beautiful. I can tell Chrissy really loves
you, pisan. You guys make a great couple. I guess we’re both lucky
that things turned out the way they did, huh?”

Looking at his watch again, Sal cried out,
“I need a fucking drink.”

“So, let’s go get one. The bar’s right over
there.”

Taking a seat at the bar, Sal pumped his
friend full of liquor while they watched the remaining races. For
the next couple of hours, Anthony rambled on about the good old
days and how great it was to grow up in their neighborhood. He
talked about all their friends, the girls they knew, and Sal’s
legendary fight with Sonny Giordano at Louie Rag’s going away
party. Knowing that it was now or never, Sal turned to a now almost
unconscious Anthony and asked, “How do you feel, Anthony?”

“I gotta piss so bad my teeth are floating.
Then we gotta put in the bets for the seventh race. Lucky Days! The
three horse in the seventh,” Anthony slurred.

“We already put the bets in, Anthony. Don’t
you remember?”

“I forgot!” Anthony laughed as he stumbled
toward the men’s room.

Following his friend into the bathroom, Sal
watched as Anthony hurried right up to the first urinal, unzipped
his fly, and began to relieve himself. “Ahhh! That feels so good.
It’s true what they say about booze, you know.”