Sally Boy (8 page)

However, when his mother left, she took any
confidence or self-respect the confused boy had. His mother was the
only person who ever made him feel that he had any value as a human
being. Psychologically, Mikey never recovered from being abandoned,
and the traumatic experience caused him to develop a deep-seated
resentment toward all women. This underlying malice has since
shaped every interaction Mike has had with a girl, rendering him
incapable of fostering a meaningful, loving relationship of any
kind.

Anthony DiGregorio was the complete opposite
of his friend. Thin and wiry, Anthony had brown eyes, black hair,
and a happy-go-lucky attitude. Although he wasn’t as well-built as
Mike, Anthony was still quite capable when the fists started to
fly, and he was fearless if a friend was in danger. His only fault
was he was a little too trusting. Anthony hadn’t acquired the
high-degree of street smarts, or the killer instinct, that so many
of his brethren had developed.

Anthony’s mother was overly protective of
her only child, and his father resented the fact that his son hung
around with “street punks.” He certainly took more than his share
of harassing from the fellas because his parents were so strict
with him, but Anthony’s good nature allowed him to laugh it off.
Fortunately, his sensitivity afforded him the luxury of attracting
the pretty girls who admired those qualities.

“What’s going on fellas?” Sal asked happily
as he slid into the booth next to Anthony.

“We’ve been waiting for like an hour. Where
the fuck you been?” Mikey chided, peering up from his plate.

“I was talking to my Pop.”

“So how’s that asshole doing?”

“What the fuck did you just say, Mike?”

“You heard me.”

“You better watch your fucking mouth,
jerk-off,” Sal cautioned, sticking his finger in Mikey’s face.

“Why so fucking sensitive all of a sudden?
You know I’m just breaking balls.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Hey, I was only fucking around with you.
Why you acting like a fucking mamaluke?”

“Maybe I’m just not in the mood to be fucked
with.”

“What’s your fucking problem, asshole?”

“I ain’t got a problem, Mike.”

“It sounds like you do.”

“The problem is not everybody wants to hear
what’s coming outta your fucking pie hole. Especially, when its
fulla chewed up pizza.”

“Sal, c’mon, how fucking long we know each
other? This is what I do, pisan. You know that.”

“Oh, I know. But I’m telling you Mikey, one
of these days you’re gonna say the wrong thing to the wrong fucking
guy, and you’re gonna get your ass stomped good. Maybe worse.”

“Well, you been telling me that for years
and it ain’t happened yet.”

“Give it time.”

“‘Give it time.’ You say that like you’re
hoping it happens or something.”

“I ain’t hoping nothing. But if it does, it
won’t surprise me. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Well, if anybody wants a shot at my title,
they can come and see me anytime. I ain’t that fucking hard to
find.”

“‘Title shot.’” Sal laughed. “Who the fuck
do you think you are, Rocky Marciano?”

“No, but a lotta people tell me I fight like
Jake LaMotta.”

“The Bronx Bull, huh? I forgot what a tough
monkey you are.”

“I’m tough enough.”

“You know, Mike. My Pop always told me that
no matter how tough you think you are, there’s always gonna be
somebody out there tougher. The trick is you gotta be smarter than
the other mug. Out think him. See?”

“Fuck that shit. If I can’t beat a guy with
my fists then he better fucking kill me. ’Cause if he don’t, the
next time I see that motherfucker, I’m gonna do him in.”

“Why do you gotta be like that Mike?”

“’Cause that’s the way it is around here.
You know that. And besides, I don’t really give a fuck one way or
the other.”

“That’s always been your problem, Mikey. You
just don’t give a fuck about nothing.”

“So what! Who the fuck do you think you are,
Sal? My mother?”

Listening to what has lately become the
usual banter among his friends, Anthony ate fast, trying to finish
so they could leave and get to Louie’s going away party. Seeing
some sauce running down Anthony’s chin, Sal tossed his friend a
stack of napkins. “Anthony, take it easy. You’re eating like a
fucking gavone?”

“Yeah, slow the fuck down. It ain’t going
anywhere,” Mikey added sarcastically, his own mouth stuffed.

“This is the way I eat,” Anthony said as he
wiped his mouth.

“If you eat pussy like you eat pizza, you’re
screwed.”

“Fuck you, Mike!”

With the quickness of a mongoose, Sal
snatched Mike’s soda off the table and took a sip. “Hey Mikey, you
still seeing Nicole’s friend, Gina?”

“Her and about six other broads. Why?”

“I was just wondering if Nicole’s gonna be
at the party tonight.”

“There’s gonna be a lotta people there.
Frankie invited the whole fucking neighborhood. What do you care if
Nicole’s gonna be there or not?”

“Madonn! Why is it every time I ask you a
question you gotta crack wise? Can’t you just give me a simple
answer? Just say ‘yeah,’ ‘no,’ or ‘don’t know.’ It ain’t that
fucking hard.”

“I could. But then I wouldn’t have any fun.
Would I?”

“Hey fucko, is Nicole gonna be there or
not?”

“Yeah, I think so. I don’t know. Why the
fuck are you asking me about her, Sal?”

“I’m just asking.”

“Oh, I see what’s going on here.” Mikey sat
up fast as if he figured out something. “You got a thing for her,
huh?”

Shaking his head, Sal just looked away.

“Well, you can forget about her, Sal. She’s
a fucking cock-tease. Besides she’s going with that asshole, Sonny
Giordano.”

“Yeah Sal, he’s a bad motherfucker.” Anthony
burped loudly. “I heard he once stabbed a guy just for whistling
too loud.”

“Yeah, he’s a real fucking tough guy. Philly
C from over on Webster Avenue knows Nicole pretty good. He told me
the only reason Nicole goes with Sonny is ’cause he threatened to
beat-up her little brother if she don’t. She only goes out with
that piecea shit to protect the kid. Can you fucking believe
that?”

“So fucking what! She’s just another dumb
bitch. She deserves whatever she gets.”

“No Mike, she don’t! Philly C told me that
Nicole told him she thinks I’m cute. She said she would go out with
me if it wasn’t for that fucking jamoke. So what do you think about
that, buddy boys?”

“I think Philly C is fulla shit. That’s what
I think,” Mikey stated with a hint of jealousy.

“Who asked you, anyway? What do you think,
Anthony?”

“Sal, I gotta be honest with you. I think
maybe you oughta forget about her. Any broad that beautiful is
nothing but trouble. Besides, what about Sonny? He ain’t just gonna
step aside and let you move in on his girl.”

“She ain’t his girl!” Sal slammed the soda
down.

Recapturing his soda, Mikey took a sip.
“Sal, let’s just say for the hell of it that Philly C is right and
Nicole does want you to give her the ol’ brascholl. How are you
gonna get that fucking maniac outta the way, huh? I don’t know.
Let’s say, Sonny’s skull gets crushed by a brick falling offa roof.
Or maybe somebody drops an ash can on him. Then you’d have a
chance. But he’s only half the problem. What about Sonny’s old man,
Sal?”

“Did you forget who my Pop is?”

“Sal, Sonny’s old man’s here in the Bronx.
Your Pop’s over there in Brooklyn. That shit matters. You know
that.”

“Fuck Sonny! Fuck his father! And fuck
anybody else you wanna throw in.”

“Fuck this guy. Fuck that guy.” Tauntingly,
Mikey wagged his finger in Sal’s face. “That’s always been your
problem, Sal. You just don’t give a fuck. How does it feel asshole,
huh?”

“Fuck you, too.”

“Yo fellas, let’s get going, huh. I wanna
get to the party before all the good pussy is taken and all that’s
left is the battona’s.”

Shaking his head in disgust, Sal fired back,
“Why do you gotta talk about girls like that all the time, huh? How
would you like it if somebody talked about your sister like
that?”

“I ain’t got no sister, Sal.”

“I know, jerk-off. I mean, what if you did?
Would you want somebody to treat your sister the way you treat
girls? Like a whore?”

“Like I said before, I ain’t got no sister.
Second, if the broads don’t like the way I treat ’em, fuck ’em.
They can go find somebody else. But they don’t. They keep coming
back to Mikey D. Why do you think that is, Sal?”

“That’s not the point.”

“What’s your point, Sal? ’Cause I don’t see
it. I like pussy. I like to eat it. I like to fuck it. What? You
want me to apologize for that?”

“You’re such a fucking mook, you know that?
I don’t even know why the fuck I hang out with you.”

“’Cause you love me,” Mikey said
grinning.

“Nah, that’s not it.”

“What’s your fucking problem, Sal? You’re
mad ’cause you know I’m right.”

“Change the fucking subject, Mikey. Awright.
’Cause you’re really starting to piss me off. I wanna have a good
time tonight. Who the fuck knows when we’re gonna get to see Louie
again after he leaves. So let’s just go to the party.”

Rising from the booth, Sal picked up the
garbage from the table and threw it in the trash.

Getting up right after him, Anthony and
Mikey followed Sal toward the door. Slightly raising his chin in a
show of familiarity to the guys behind the counter, Sal said
courteously, “Hey Tony, Ray, we’ll see youse later, okay?”

The guys nodded back in a mutual show
respect.

* * * * *

Having already forgotten their minor
disagreement, the three friends strolled down the sidewalk with the
vitality of youth, chomping at the bit to get to the party. The sun
was setting and the familiar shadows of the neighborhood were
creeping in. Street lights were coming on and the closer they got
to Frankie’s house, the more apparent it became by the number of
people loitering about in the street drinking beer, talking to
girls, and smoking, that Louie’s going away party was a huge
success.

Anthony lagged behind the gait of his
friends to watch the sun set. When he tried to catch up, he noticed
that his shoelace had come undone. “Yo fellas, hold up. I gotta tie
my shoe.”

Sal and Mikey stopped and turned to watch
their friend.

“Hurry up, asshole!” Mikey snapped.

“Yeah, I’m hurrying,” Anthony said,
frustrated, as he put his foot up on the rear tire of a parked car.
While hunching over to tie his lace he heard faint moans coming
from the back seat of the Pontiac sedan. Cautiously, Anthony put
his face up to the partially lowered window and peeked inside. A
streetlight barely illuminated the two prone silhouettes in the
back seat. Excitedly, he waved his friends back to the car, trying
not to alarm the couple in the back seat. “Yo, come here. Hurry
up,” Anthony urged as quietly as possible.

Turning to Sal, Mikey threatened, “This
better be good or I’m gonna smack the shit outta him. I swear to
God!”

As they walked back to where Anthony stood,
he pointed at the car, and whispered, “Take a gander at this,
fellas.”

“What?” Mikey asked, annoyed.

“Look in the back seat,” Anthony blurted,
and then covered his mouth to smother a laugh.

Shoving Anthony out of the way, Mike
fearlessly stuck his head inside the window, startling the two
unsuspecting teens laid out in the back. “Well, well, what do we
got here, Romeo and Cleopatra?” Mikey said, laughing at the now
alarmed couple. Withdrawing from the window, he turned to Sal.
“This is fucking beautiful. Cheesy’s getting a piece.”

“Cheesy’s” real name was James O’Scanlon.
Jimmy was a tall, skinny, sixteen-year-old Irish kid from the
neighborhood who everybody knew and had great affection for. He had
bright red hair, freckles, and a face like a pepperoni pizza. He
got the nickname “Cheese Doodle” from some girls who were eating
them at a party, and noticed how similar one looked in comparison
to him. Over the years, the moniker mutated into several different
variations, finally settling on Cheesy.

Lying sprawled out on top of a chubby,
homely, redheaded girl, with a pale complexion, and thick glasses,
Jimmy’s jeans were down around his ankles, and his lily white ass
glowed in the back seat like a full moon on a clear, dark
night.

“Ah, leave him alone. How many times do you
figure he’s gonna get some in his life?” Sal said sympathetically,
as he stepped to the window and got a good look at the girl’s face.
“Whoa!” Startled by her appearance, Sal jerked his head back.

“How you doing, Sally Boy?” Jimmy asked
cheerfully.

“What’s going on, Cheesy?” Sal responded
casually.

“I’m kinda in the middle of something
here.”

“I see that, Cheese. I’m prouda you!”

“Thanks, Sal.”

“Why ain’t you at Louie’s party?”

“I was. This is my date.”

“Cool!”

“Hey Sal, any chance you could maybe give us
a little privacy.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Thanks, Sal.”

“See you later, Cheese.”

Just as Sal was about to step away from the
car, he stuck his head back into the window. “Yo Cheese, lemme ask
you something. You do know whose car this is, right?”

“Yeah, it’s Ralphie Barbagallo’s. He won’t
mind.”

“You’re right, Ralphie wouldn’t mind. But
this ain’t Ralphie’s car no more. Ralphie sold it to, Gino.”

“This is Gino Scaparetti’s car?” Jimmy said
fearfully.

“You didn’t know that, huh?”

“I thought it was Ralphie’s.”

“I’m not telling you what to do or nothing.
But if Gino catches you doing what you’re doing in his back seat,
you’re gonna need like five doctors to put you back together again.
Capisi?”