Albany Park (12 page)

“Look, Ben, I worked at a small restaurant in Rockford, where I come from. I can do every job here, including short order cooking, and I can handle the guys. Please, I need the work bad. My old man ran out on me and I owe two month’s rent.”

She reached into her purse and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe away a tear, looking away so he wouldn’t see her. She was thin with dark hair and eyebrows. Her light coat was pulled tight around her and her low-heeled shoes looked worn but not shabby. As she turned back, he noticed her dark eyes and straight narrow nose over thin, slightly rouged lips. He guessed her age at about late twenties, early thirties.

“Hey, I can’t Phyllis; I just don’t think it could work.”

Putting her handkerchief away, she moved closer, slipping her hand to his crotch and slowly massaging him.

“Ben, I really need this job. I know you won’t be sorry,” she whispered.

She dropped her purse and began unbuttoning his fly. Maneuvering him onto a stool at the counter, she dropped to her knees on the floor and ran her tongue over the tip of his now full erection.

“Oh, c’mon, this is not right,” he whispered.

She ignored him and sighed without stopping.

With his hands entwined in her hair, he made a soft sound and lightly caressed her, no longer protesting.

Shaking her coat off, she let it drop to the floor and pulled her dress off her shoulders. At the same time, she continued to bob up and down. She felt him growing until, with a low groan, he erupted.

He pulled her up, grasping her firm behind and kissing her breasts. She put her arms around him and he held her as they kissed passionately. They rocked gently, standing in the silent restaurant, listening to the loud noises and passing cars on the street.

Finally, he whispered in her ear, “Okay, let’s give it a try. Be here at six-thirty tomorrow and wear a black dress.”

Tilting her head back, she smiled broadly. “Thank you. I promise you won’t be sorry.”

The next day, Phyllis showed up at six-fifteen wearing a long black dress ending three inches below her knees, with short sleeves and buttons up to her neck. Her dark hair was parted in the middle and pulled up in braids in the back. Her only makeup was a light shade of lipstick, a little powder and rouge. She donned a short white apron and poured herself a cup of coffee. Ben handed her a menu to study. Finishing the coffee, she put the cup and saucer near the sink in back and introduced herself to the dishwasher, the busboy and the dining room waiter.

The following Monday, Ben started serving whiskey in coffee mugs and beer in tall, dark colored glasses. Tim and Mike O’Hara were served the first drinks and Ben picked up the check. Before they left, Mike called Ben over.

“Thanks, Benny, you gotta nice place here. I’m gonna tell my friends. Just remember though, nobody gets freebies unless I say it’s okay.”

Two days later, four guys in dark suits showed up for lunch and mentioned Mike had sent them. Each had two drinks before lunch. One of them, a little guy who kept his hat on while eating had little to say other than placing his order, paying the check and leaving a three dollar tip. The noisiest guy of the bunch shook hands with Ben, mentioning he liked the ham steak and would be back.

Mike O’Hara arrived at noon with his brother Tim and the four guys two weeks later. Mike was shorter and huskier than Tim, with the same black hair and gravel voice. He didn’t have a moustache, but there was no mistaking they were brothers. Unlike the others, he took off his hat and coat, handing to them to Ben to hang up. He sat in a booth with Tim and the short quiet guy, who wore his hat pulled down over his eyes. All three lit cigarettes as soon as they ordered their drinks. The other three sat a table close by.

Tim called Ben over while they were finishing their coffee.

“Mike wants to talk to you. Sit down.”

Ben looked over his shoulder to the jam-packed counter, where he had been helping Phyllis.

She smiled. “Don’t worry, I can take care of this. If I need you, I’ll holler.”

“Looks like business is pickin’ up Ben,” Mike said. “And the new girl ain’t bad either.” He laughed.

Tim and the hat guy just sat quietly, barely acknowledging Ben.

Turning his attention back to Ben, Mike went on. “I’m adding another case of scotch and bourbon to your order next week. And you see these guys?” he said looking at the other table and then nodding toward Tim and the hat guy. “They’re with me. From now on when they come in, it’s on the house. You get it?”

The guy with the hat stuffed five dollars in Phyllis’s pocket as they left.

“Next time, you take care of us, you understand?” he whispered with a wink.

When they left, Phyllis went in the kitchen and showed Ben the five dollars.

“Did you see that? He gave me this and I didn’t even take care of them. Is it okay?”

“Don’t worry about it; he gave the waiter five bucks too and the whole check would only have amounted to eleven bucks.”

Grinning she said, “he told me that next time I should wait on them. Is that okay?”

With a shrug and a smile he shook his head, “Yeah, it’s okay, but be careful, especially with that guy that always wears his hat.”

“Thanks Ben, I really appreciate that. I can use a new pair of shoes and some hose. And don’t worry about me, I can take care of myself,” she said, showing a toothy grin.

After that, Mike and some of his friends came back every few weeks. Phyllis always took care of them.

“Hey baby, what’s good here besides you?” the noisy one would say, while the others laughed.

“For you, big guy, everything’s good, except the hired help,” she would reply. “And don’t get any ideas; I’m sure my boyfriend wouldn’t like it.”

“You sure? C’mon, gimme a break Phyllis. I’ll pick you up after work for a night on the town.”

“Yeah I’m sure, I’ll bet you tell that to all the girls. How bout giving me a break and gimme your order so I can get back to work and make some money.”

They would tease her or try to get her to laugh and she would play hard to get, while taking the orders and slapping away a stray hand or two that would reach out to grab her leg or rear end.

When Ben noticed them giving her a hard time, he asked her
about it
,

She smiled and shrugged. “Don’t worry about me, I can handle myself. I’ll take their table anytime. They tip better than any customer and I can use the dough.”

He smiled, scratching his head. “Okay, just wanted you to know, I’m lookin’ out for you.”

With the addition of the liquor, business from the Loop had picked up and Ben managed to keep the restaurant going, but each week it was getting harder to meet the liquor bill and stay ahead of the other bills too.

He also began “working late” some nights. He would leave the restaurant at four and meet Phyllis at a speakeasy around the corner. They would return to the restaurant a little after five and make love in his small office in the back. Afterward, he would drive her to the apartment on Noble Street where she rented a room from an older couple. They never discussed the arrangement, but both knew that it was more than sex. From the first day, she had been a hit at the restaurant. The customers loved her. Most of the men treated her with respect and she quickly knew their names and all about their families and jobs. For the few that teased her or made smart remarks, she had quick and spicy answers that usually got laughs. Several regulars mentioned to Ben that she was fun, sort of like having an older sister around.

Personally, he worried that he was in love with her. The more he was around her he found himself thinking of being alone with her. He knew she felt the same, even though she never mentioned being in love with him. The closest she came was telling him she loved how he treated her when they were together. From the stories she told, he knew that things had not been easy for this poor girl from a small city of factory workers like Rockford. He also knew that she had been deserted by a drunk of a husband who used her for a punching bag.

When Franklin D. Roosevelt was elected president in November 1932, Ben—along with the rest of America had high hopes that he would turn the economy around and prosperity would return.

A few months later, Prohibition was repealed. That same week, Mike O’Hara showed up and told him he owed a thousand dollars for liquor and unless he paid up in twenty-four hours, he was taking over. The following day, he returned with his brother Tim and three of the guys who had been part of the group that had been coming since he had sent them in almost three years before.

“C’mon, Mike, you know I’m good for it. I just need a little more time,” he pleaded.

O’Hara shook his head. “Look Benny, this is business, now whyn’t you just pack up and leave. I’m doin’ you a favor letting you off the hook for the G.”

Ben’s jaw clenched as Mike turned away from him. He started to say something, but Tim intervened, grabbing him by the arm.

“Easy Ben, you don’t wanta make him mad. Believe me, he likes you and he’s taking it easy on ya,” Tim whispered in his gruff voice.

The biggest of the three goons emptied the cash register and gave a handful of bills to Mike. Then he came over to Ben.

“Gimme the keys,” he said with his hand out.

Ben stood, shaking his head from side to side with his arms folded across his chest.

The goon nudged him. “Let’s go,” he said. “You don’t want me to have to take ‘em away from you, do you?”

Ben reached into his pocket and handed over the keys.

“Hey Ben,” Tim said softly, “I got a guy who rents a warehouse from me that’s lookin’ for a liquor salesman. Go see him. I bet it’s good job now that Prohibition is over.”

Retreating to the kitchen, Ben started to fill a small carton with papers and pictures from his small desk. As he grabbed his jacket and started for the door, Tim stopped him and stuffed a business card in his hand.

“Call Stan Weiss; tell him I gave you the card.”

Slowly approaching the door, Ben stopped and turned, giving the place, which by this time was run down, a last look. Tears welled up in his eyes as he rubbed his chin and walked out.

Phyllis rushed after him. “Ben, meet me later, at our usual place, before you go home,” she whispered. Then she rushed inside, saying, “I gotta go back. I need the dough.”

“Be careful honey; these guys are rough.”

“Don’t worry about me, Ben. I been in tougher spots before.”

He nodded and waved, turning away. An hour later, she joined him for a drink and then he drove her home. He double parked as she slid over to kiss him and hold him tight, whispering, “don’t worry, something will turn up. Now go home and please call me when
you can
.”

He didn’t answer, but nodded as she got out and he waited as he always did until she was safe inside.

Toward the end of his second week on his new job, the young office girl told Ben that Mr. Weiss wanted to see him. He walked in to the small private office off to the side of the warehouse with a big smile, expecting a pep talk.

Holding the telephone receiver to his ear in the same hand as a cigarette and gripping the speaker in his other, Weiss motioned him
to sit
.

“Yeah, I got it under control,” he bellowed into the phone. “Just give me a few more days.” Listening, he nodded his head while whoever was on the other end was talking.

“I know I’m late, but you know, I always come through,” he sighed in a quieter voice.

Papers were strewn all over the chipped desk that had seen better days. The place looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years. The windows were filthy and a few of the panes were replaced with plywood. Ben listened quietly as the conversation was coming to an end. Putting the receiver on the hook Stan turned to him.

“The fuckers won’t let me live,” Weiss sighed.

Shaking his head, the heavyset, bald man zeroed in on Ben.

“What’s with this expense account? What are you trying to do, bankrupt me?” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his head.

Ben took a deep breath, “you don’t understand,” he said, trying not to look surprised. “I’m gonna make you a lot of money. Look at this place, everything is rundown, the furniture and equipment are falling apart. I see a lotta the orders and they’re for a case here and a case there. And look where they’re coming from, just a bunch of small joints. I’m calling on the best restaurants and bars in the city. When they buy, you’ll see real orders.”

Stan interrupted, crushing his ever-present cigarette in the overflowing ash tray, knocking it into the telephone. “Look Ben, I don’t give a damn about what you think. Any more expenses like that you’re outta here. Do you understand?”

Tugging at his collar, Ben loosened his tie. “Yeah, I hear you, but I tell you what, come with me this afternoon and I’ll show you what I’m doing. If you don’t like it, fire me. If not, just let me bring in the business.”

That afternoon, Stan, accompanied his brash new salesman as they called on Zonenblicks. The brightly lit restaurant on Market Street, just west of the loop could seat over eighty and had a bar with twenty stools. Along the wall in the bar were prominently displayed signed photos of show business personalities as well as past and present city, state and county officeholders. It had been a fixture of the city for over thirty years and had built a reputation of serving the best corned beef in town. The place also had served liquor all through Prohibition and was a watering place for politicians and occasionally, Al Capone and his cronies.

Walking in, Ben introduced himself and Stan to Joe Zonenblick, a tall broad man who stood behind the bar, wearing a white apron. The beer glasses he had been washing sat neatly next to the sink. He dried his hands before shaking hands and held up a finger indicating he wanted them to wait, while he drew a beer for a patron.

Looking the other way as Zonenblick took care of the customer, Ben struck up a conversation with three men sitting at the bar.

“Ben is my name and liquor is my game,” he said, shaking hands and throwing two dollars on the bar. “Bartender, buy these men a drink on me.”