Adrian Del Valle - Diego's Brooklyn (6 page)

“Ha! No, really, lots of ducks hang around here.”

“Funny, I don’t see nary a one.”

“Tides out,” said Larry, “that’s why.”

“What y’all boys don‘t know, is if’ns thems ducks you be claimin’ to see? Be the same ones that were there the day befo’. They might o’ glowed just like them fishes you was talkin’ ‘bout and been a settin’ all sick like at the bottom of that river a quackin’ for theys momma.”

Diego stood on top of a piling.

He scanned the river and its banks, while under his feet, all he saw was the wooden deck of a spanish galleon. Foamy white caps lapped abreast and washed over the forecastle, rocking the mighty ship from side to side. Below the distant horizon, in the final, fiery glow of sunset, the fierce bow of an English brigantine, chased through the waves to find him.

Diego, the pirate, drew an ornate saber from its sheath, its glistening reflective light, sweeping across the oak planks like a flash of lightening. He ordered his helmsman to come about and shouted to make ready the ship’s canons
—
a double row of 40 carronades
—
32 pounders, scavenged from an English warship.

“Hey, you guys know about the kid that drowned out here last year?” he asked.

“What kid?” said Jerry.

“Yeah, what kid?” Larry wanted to know.

“A kid dove off one of these piers near here…and you know those big, metal milk cans?”

“Like the ones they use at the Borden Dairy down the street from us?” Bill asked.

“Yeah, only it was a four foot one. Well, the can was under the water sitting upright at the bottom and when the kid dove in, his head hit the can with so much force, it went right inside. It was wedged in so tight, he couldn’t pull it back out.”

Larry found that frightening. “Did he drown?”

“Well, whaddya think,” Jose snapped.

Larry’s head shook vigorously
.
“I’m not diving, that’s all. I’ll go in, but I’m not diving. The heck with that. Hey Jimmy! I’m swimming to the end of the pier.”

“I’ll beat ya,” Jimmy shouted.

Bill walked to the end to meet them and to watch the ferry make its way against the tide toward its berth at Battery Park.

Jerry came alongside.

“I thought yawl was still in the water, Jerra?”

“I’d rather stand here with you, Mr. Jackson. I like looking across the river at all those skyscrapers in Manhattan. The way they seem to come up right out of the water like that…that’s really keen.”

“Is you never been on that ferry nayther?”

“Nope! My mother doesn’t go anywhere.”

“What about yo’ dadda?”

“He works a lot of hours. I don’t see him much and when I do he’s either on his way to work, or on his way to bed.”

“Ah sees what you mean. Wale…you can go with us when we take the cruise. Yawl want to come?”

“Wow! That would be great, Mr. J. I’ll ask my mom.”

“Yawl do that, son. Let me know, ya hear? Now doncha swaller up non o’ that there water.”

Tall and lanky, the sight of Jerry running to jump in seemed comical. Bill didn’t laugh.

Now that’s a nice boy.

“Aren’t you going in,” said Larry, wiping the brackish water from his eyes.

“No, son, but I sees that Jimmy beat you to the end.”

“That’s because I let him.”

Jimmy smirked. “You’re a sap, Larry. I beat you fair and square and you know it. Watch me beat him back, Mr. J.”

The afternoon went by quickly. By late afternoon, everyone had built up an appetite. On the way home, they started to take the same streets, but turned right onto Clinton for no better reason than to go a different way. They were soon walking through the Italian neighborhood of Carol Gardens.

“This is a nice neighborhood,” said Jose.

With the cool down of late afternoon, and it being Sunday, there were a lot of people outside, sitting on stoops to get away from the heat of hot apartments. Large trees gave ample shade and everyone seemed to know one another. Folks sat at tables filled with snacks and liquid refreshments or leaned over fences in conversation. No one said hello or waved or acknowledged the boys or Mr. Jackson’s presence in any way.

“That guy over there keeps staring at us,” said Larry.

“So don’t look at him,” said Diego.

Jimmy turned from looking at the same guy. “You know what? There’s a couple of guys talking to him right now, and they’re all looking this way.”

This time Diego took a look. “Keep walking and don’t turn around anymore.”

“Boys, now don’t pay‘m no never mind and they won’t trouble us none.”

Bill couldn’t have been more wrong. He and the boys turned the corner with the intention of returning to Amity, the same street they first took on the way to the piers. Walking along busy Court Street, they heard loud voices coming from behind. They grew louder as four teenage thugs caught up to them. One had a chain wrapped around his arm. As he spoke, he unraveled it.

“So what were you assholes doin’ on my street back there? You don’t live here. None of youz do.”

“We’re walkin’ back from the piers…that’s all,” said Diego.

“Oh yeah? Well you shoulda went a different way…and whose the coon with ya?”

“That’s Bill, the cop,” Larry blurted out. “He’s escorting us to the precinct.”

“Precinct? You fat piece o’ lard. The precinct is way over dataway.”

Jimmy cut in. “Look guys, we’re not bothering anybody.”

“Oh, no? Well guess what? We’re bodderin’ youz!”

The bully stepped back and started to swing the chain in a wide circle.

With Jimmy standing out front, the boy was in danger.

“Boys! Now, that there ain’t necessary.”

Bill knew he could take the kid—knock him out with one punch. And he was sure, in his younger days, he could have taken the other three, but hitting any of them would send the whole Italian neighborhood down on them. Instead, he got in front of Jimmy and motioned for him to stay back with a wave of his hand. At the same time, the troublemakers that were with the chain wielding kid raised their fists all set to fight.

Readying the chain for a swing at Bill, the bully said, “So…what’re you gonna do, now, you old man?”

“That’s enough, Nunzio! Get back home where you belong.” A man’s large hand encircled the chain wielding kid’s neck and pushed him in the direction he wanted him to go. “Go ahead…get outta here. You too, the four of ya…get lost.”

“You ain’t heard da last of dis, Louie. I’m tellin’ my father.”

“Go ahead, Nunzio, and I hope he beats the shit out of you.”

The four boys walked away as fast as they could back to President Street.

Bill and the rest couldn’t believe their eyes. At the same time, they all said, “Louie?”

“Yeah, Louie your neighborhood garbage guy to the rescue.”

“Louie, I sure is glad to see you.”

“My pleasure, Mr. Jackson. Are you all right kid?”

“I’m okay, thanks.”

“That’s good! What’s your name?”

“Jimmy!”

“Please to meet you, Jimmy.”

“Louie, this is Jerry,” Diego said. “This is Jose, and that’s Larry.”

“Larry, Jose, Jerry…please to meet all o’ you guys. I saw ya’s back on President and tried to catch up, but youz were already up the block and dat creep was followin’ ya. Nunzio’s da neighborhood trouble maker. I’ll make sure I tell his father. I know Patsy, he doesn’t put up with that kind of crap? Why, if they ever said anything to my wife and kids, I’d knock the block off their stupid heads, without his permission.”

“You probably don’t have to worry about that, Louie. At least she’s Italian,” said Diego.

“No, she ain’t! Yolanda is Puerto Rican.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, why would I kid about that? Yeah, she’s Puerto Rican, but I don‘t think of it that way. I never did. In fact, she was raised right there on President, down the block from me. And that’s before the likes of doze guys were ever born. She knows everybody around here and they don’t really care, anyways, except for a few dumb guidos that I wouldn’t have nuttin’ to do wit, no-hows. Heck, I knew her since I was dis high. So where’re you all coming from?”

“Swimmin‘,” Bill said. “We were at the piers since eleven this morning.”

“I hope dem guys didn’t scare youz too much.”

“I wasn’t scared,” said Larry.

“Oh, sure!” Jose retorted. “Maybe you better check your underwear before you say anything else.”

“How about you, Mr. J? You didn’t seem scared at all,” said Jerry.

“Well, then, ah guess ah fooled all o’ yawl, cuz ah was ‘bout as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full o’ rockin’ chairs.

Louie laughed. “Hey, youz must be hungry. Come on, I’m gonna treat all o’ you to pizza.”

“Gee…you don’t have to do that,” said Diego.

“Yeah, Louie, it’s okay, we’ll be all right,” said Jimmy.

“Thanks anyway,” said Jerry. “Right, Larry?”

Larry rubbed his stomach and looked as if he was going to faint. “Man, I’m hungry!”

“That’s it! You’re all coming with me.”

Two doors up, Rinaldi’s Pizzeria stood out like a welcoming cafe. Outside, red cabana awnings shaded metal tables covered with green, well ironed table cloths.

“Grab a table boys.” Louie opened the door and yelled inside. “Hey Ant’ny, get us three large pizza’s and soda for all the boys.”

“Gee, Louie, this is great! I don’t know how to thank you for all of this,” said Diego.

“What’re friends for, right, Mr. Jackson?” said Louie.

“Jus’ call me Bill.”

Louie’s head was already back in the doorway shouting at Anthony. “Ya got anymore o’ dem zepoli’s? Maybe Mr. Jackson and the boys want somethin’ to munch on while they’re waitin’.”

From the kitchen, in the back of the restaurant, a voice sharply answered him. “Holda backa you horses, I’ll be right outta there. Aspettare uno momento.”

A short and very round Anthony, wearing an apron spotted with dried tomato sauce, soon weaved around the tables with a large tray of zepolis sprinkled generously with confectioner’s sugar.

“Ant’ny, these are my friends from the garbage route. That’s Mr. Jackson, he’s the boss of all of them. Ha ha. Hey Larry, you’re still all wet. What happened?”

“I had to put my clothes on over my bathing suit.”

“I done that before many times, myself.”

Anthony, on returning inside, immediately popped his head back out with an afterthought. “I’m a come out witha the pizza right away. You boyza come anytime you like to my pizza store. Anthony maka the besta pizza in a the whole of Brookaleen.”

Louie grimaced. “Ayyy…Ant’ny! Pu-leeze! Dominic’s always has a line around the block.”

“So go to Domineek’s. Why you coma over to this a place if a you like thatta one so much?”

“That’s ‘cause I feel sorry for you Ant’ny.”

“Yeah, a you sorry lika a the hole inna my head. That Domineek, he’s a from a the mountains. What does he know about how to make a good a pizza. They gotta nothing but sheep uppa they. All they know in a the mountains eeza how to make the cheese, that’s all. So go you selfa to Domineek’s!”

“Nah! I like the awning. Gets me outta the sun. You know wud I mean, Ant’ny?”

“Ah, stai zitto. Some a bullshit you are. You know whata you can scratch, huh, Louie?”

Louie knocked on the table, and snapped, “Hey where’s the soda? Bring the soda! Come on! What kind of a Pizza joint is this, anyway? Where‘s the service around here, huh?”

“Holda you horses. I’m a go get it righta now.” Anthony’s voiced trailed off as he reentered the pizzeria.

“That Ant’ny’s a good guy,” Louie said. “I went to school with his son. Tough story, that one. Anyway, he ain’t around no more.”

“Why’s that?” Bill asked.

Hold the fort, Bill. I‘ll be write back. I have to see a man about that horse Ant’ny was talkin’ ’bout. I‘ll tell you when I get back.”

To Bill’s surprise, after Louie went inside to use the bathroom, a black kid of about eighteen and wearing a full apron, bumped his rear into the restaurant door from inside, carrying three aluminum trays of large pizza’s to the table. The boy had about him an air of confidence gained from having served many a table. He laid the first tray down in front of Larry. The other two, wedged between his finger tips and shoulder, were placed side by side in front of Bill and Jerry.

“Hi, I’m Louis! You guys aren’t from around here are you?”

“No, and you ain’t naytha, is you?” Bill queried.

“Well, these days I am. I live right up stairs. Hey, I’m Louis. Eat up, I’ll be right back.” The boy went inside as light footed as he came out.

Louie returned. “Now that looks good! I can see that you’re enjoyin’ it, too. Who brought it out…Luigi?”

“Why, no!” said Bill. “A young fella named Louis.”

“Oh, that’s Luigi. It’s not his real name, but that’s what Ant’ny calls him. He sorta adopted him. The kid has his own apartment upstairs. Used to live in Ant’ny’s house a coupla of years ago, but he wanted his own place. Ant’ny owns the building, so it wasn’t a problem.”

“He seems like a nice kid,” said Bill.

“Luigi? A piece o’ cake. They get along priddy good, those two. Ant’ny calls the kid his Siciliano.”

Just then the door opened. Louis, with two trays of veal parmesan, set them down at a different table. After a short conversation with the customers sitting there, he returned. “Anybody need anything else?”

Louie grabbed him by the wrist, “No, nothin’. Come sidown for a while. Take a load off your feet, you’re makin’ me dizzy wid all a this runnin’ around.”

“Well, I guess I can sit for a minute. How’s everything with you, Louie?”

“I’m good. I was tellin’ them how much of a trouble maker you are, you big eggplant.”

Anthony stepped outside to join them. It’s a so nice out here. Not lika before. Boy, what a hot day today. I see you boysa meet a my Luigi.”

Standing alongside him, Anthony patted him softly on the side of the face. Luigi eesa the besta partner I’m a ever have.”

“What partner? I work for you, Anthony.”

“Nah! Hogwasha, you anda me, we izza partnas. Luigi here is a the best. I’m a surprise he’s sitting down.”

“I made him sit. You work him too hard,” said Louie.

“He’s a work he selfa too hard. I don’t tella heem no theeng.”