Brooklyn Story (23 page)

I looked at my wrist and thought about how Tony had dropped me off when I wanted to stay out with him. “I guess I'll have to get used to being left flat, too,” I said, my head still lowered.

“It's worth it. The Young Turks are movin' up on the Mustache Petes in Bensonhurst.”

I looked up at my best friend. “I'm not interested in Bensonhurst,” I said.

“I know, I know. It's Manhattan ya want to conquer.”

“With Tone right beside me.”

Janice looked out the window and I followed her gaze. Bustling Eighteenth Avenue was filled with women wearing fur coats, spike heels, and teased coifs, and men with slicked-back hair who shuffled along looking side to side with their hands in leather jackets. “I gotta be honest, Sam. I don' know if he'll ever fit into that world,” she said, and then we faced each other again.

“He has to,” I said. “'Cause that's where I'm gonna be.”

“Did you tell him you'd be with me now?” Janice asked.

“Of course. On the telephone this morning, right after he mentioned about everyone going to Platinum tonight.”

“Isn't it great? We get to spend almost the whole day together.”

My eyes drifted again to the scene outside the diner. “Yeah,” I said, and wondered where in the neighborhood Tony was at that moment.

For Tony, as I found out later, a great deal was changing that Christmas week.

I always used to think that Vin had a secret crush on me, and God, I would never even breathe that out loud. But every time I was around Vin, he would always try to show off about his family and their business. He talked a lot. He would say things a girl like me, well, should just not hear. But there he was this one time, blabbering away about a bunch of shit I wasn't supposed to know about. I pretended not to pay attention, but I listened to everything.

Around the same time, Tony and Vin had become inseparable, and Tony had become Vin's “come with” guy when he was out doing business. Vin liked Tony's easy manner and his willingness to follow directions, and for him to be Vin's eyes and ears around town. In fact, he became so valuable to the Prigantis, they invited him to a local meeting with the Teamsters.

The union president and Tino were in negotiations, as Vin wanted a piece of their action and the Teamsters needed protection from the local cops. Tony was helpful at that meeting with his easy manner and lighthearted banter, which worked out so well, they all raised a glass at the end of the evening, satisfied that each side had gotten what they wanted.

At the same time, Tony was included in a high-level meeting with Vin and a guy named Andrew LaCocca, a multimillionaire who was planning a scheme to rip off a well-established banking institution. “And you boys would each get
a hundred grand for this one. Providin' there are no fuckups.
Capisce
?”

“My good friend Tino said you guys have balls,” said LaCocca, “but I don't know. They better be made of steel for the job I'm planning.”

The threesome were sitting at Vittorio's Pizza Palace in the center of Bensonhurst, where the rushing traffic sounds drowned out their conversation.

“We won't disappoint you,” said Vin coolly. He was taking to his role as future boss, staring down this wealthy, cocky guy who went nowhere without a bodyguard.

“Does that mean you guys are in?” LaCocca asked, suddenly standing. His bodyguard, nearly as thick as he was tall, grunted and stood also, his hand resting inside his jacket pocket.

“We're in,” said Vin.

Tony nodded.

LaCocca and his man walked to the door and slipped into the moving crowd, passing pedestrians on the street. Vin and Tony exchanged glances. They were ready for this one, as if all their years of petty thievery and violence were preparation for the score they were about to make.

“Shit,” said Tony. “Did he just say a hundred grand?”

“Yeah,” agreed Vin, “apiece. For each of us. Let's get outta here.”

It didn't make much sense to me at the time, but it did later.

After I left Janice, there was still time before dinner that I had planned to have at home, so I detoured to Our Lady of Guadalupe. The musty air with a faint hint of incense embraced me as I entered and sat in my usual seat for some quiet contemplation.

Surrounded by icons, I thought about what I had told Grandma on Christmas Day. A spiritual attachment to the Blessed Mother was a big part of me and that would always be
so. The rites and customs associated with religious observance, on the other hand, were still foreign to me and I didn't know if that would ever change, either. I decided that that wasn't what was important. Just like what Tony did to survive wasn't important, either. What was important, I knew, were the feelings I had about the Blessed Mother and those between my boyfriend and me, and my faith in myself.

I prayed for a few minutes in the informal manner that was my own and then stole a final glance at the statue of Mary before dipping a finger into the holy water. I made the sign of the cross and then pushed on one of the two heavy wood doors at the rear of the church. As I skipped down the concrete steps, a familiar voice called out. “Stopped in for some inspiration, Samantha?”

I turned in the direction of Father Rinaldi, who was approaching, and my smile matched his. “I can always use some,” I said as I joined him on the sidewalk.

Father Rinaldi placed a tender hand on my shoulder. “It's there for the taking, my child,” he said. “What's important is how you use it.”

“It restores me, Father. Makes me feel that anything's possible.”

“As long as you keep the faith,” he said.

My conviction about belief a few minutes before in the pew came back to me as I looked into the priest's eyes. “I will, Father,” I said.

Father Rinaldi crossed his arms. “Bear in mind that you must keep your faith with those who also believe,” he said. I thought about Tony and it seemed Father Rinaldi was reading my mind. “I'm not so sure Tony Kroon is one of them.”

“He's no worse than any of the other guys around here,” I said.

“Maybe in that group he runs with. But remember, Sam, Christ is our model and there are those who strive to be more like him every day. Maybe you're not seeing everybody.”

I thought about Nick at Outer Skates, and about the nerds in school who stimulated my mind with their interests but didn't stir my budding womanhood. “I've seen a lot, Father,” I said.

He glanced at my bracelet and his face tightened as he looked me in the eyes. “Including the inside of a precinct.”

I lowered my head. “What he did wasn't all that bad,” I said. A cold burst of wind swept the avenue and buffeted the naked branches above us and my own limbs. I shivered. Father Rinaldi spread his arm and his warmth across my shoulder.

“There are no degrees of wrong, Samantha,” he said softly. “What's wrong is wrong.”

I looked again into his face, which had turned beatific. He's shielding me in more ways than one, I said to myself. But, I thought, in the arms of the church as he was, he didn't have to reach out in the neighborhood. Tony and the rest of his guys did. They stuck together and used their connections to get somewhere. They lived in the real world, I thought, even if it was different than the one I was headed for. I believed in Tony, too, I decided, even if Father Rinaldi didn't. We were doing the best we could in the Bensonhurst outside the church's walls.

“I always try to do what's right, Father,” I said.

His strong arm hugged me close. “I believe you, Sam.” His eyes pierced my soul.

“Thanks, Father,” I said. “You restore me, too.”

“God does that, child. Remember his forgiveness always.”

There was a mob of young people behind a red velvet rope at Platinum as Tony steered the Porsche to the curb in front of the club entrance. He got out and tossed the keys to a valet and I hurried to catch up to him at the smoked glass doors. Tony shared the usual laugh with his bouncer friend as he waved us through. A chorus of grumbles from those shivering on line was muted when the door closed behind us.

Tony grabbed my hand and pulled me through the packed club to the bar, where patrons stood three deep waiting for drinks. He caught the eye of a bartender and then jostled the young men in front of him as he reached toward the bar to put some money down.

“Who the fuck do ya think ya are?” one of the guys asked. “Whatsit to ya?” Tony snarled as he wedged closer to the bar to wait for his drinks.

“Maybe ya should wait like everyone else,” the guy said.

“And maybe ya should jus' shut the fuck up,” Tony growled as he shoved the guy's upper body with a forearm. If it weren't for the others packed in around him, the guy might have gone sprawling, I thought. I stepped back as the guy steadied himself and started his hands toward Tony's chest. Tony thrust his hands and parted the guy's arms before they reached their target, and grabbed the guy's shirt near the collar. He jerked the guy close, popping two of his buttons, and got into his face. “Whoya with?” Tony growled.

The guy nodded toward his friends next to him. “Just these … guys … here,” he stammered.

Tony tightened his grip. “I mean, whoya with?” he growled again. The guy's eyes narrowed and he didn't respond. “That's what I thought.” Tony laughed and shoved him away. “Ya better watch yaself, then, if ya know what's good for ya.” Tony picked up two drinks from the bar with one hand as he kept his eyes on the guy. He smirked as one of the guy's friends grabbed his arm and they all backed away and melted into the crowd.

“Fuckin' assholes,” Tony muttered, and headed for the tables in the rear to find his friends. I followed close behind on the edge of the packed dance floor, where partiers gyrated to Al Wilson blaring from speakers that rocked the club:

Whoa, oh, oh, oh show and tell just a game I play
When I wanna say “I love you”

I may have to drag Tony with me across that bridge, I thought as we joined the foursome of our friends at a round table.

“Christ,” Tony said when we sat down. “What a guy hasta go through jus' to get a fuckin' drink.” He took a long swig from his scotch and water. Vin and Richie smiled broadly.

“Problems, Tone?” Richie asked.

“I almost hadda give some
stronzo
a beatdown,” Tony said.

“There are dickheads everywhere,” Vin said. “Ya gotta do what ya gotta do.” The guys laughed as I exchanged fast hellos with Janice and Dara. I took a sip of my drink and winced. I wasn't accustomed to scotch.

“Whatsa matter?” Tony asked. “Too strong for ya?”

“A little.”

“Well, I hadda get sumthin' in a hurry.”

“It's okay,” I said.

Vin waved to a waitress. “I'll get some more champagne,” he said as he pointed to the empty bottle on the table and held up a flute. “Connie's a good girl. She'll be right over.”

“Ya should know,” Tony said, and the guys chuckled. Dara rolled her eyes. Tony downed his drink and grabbed another waitress as she walked by. “Bring me a coupla scotch and waters, honey, willya?” he said, his arm around her waist and his cheek inches from her breast.

“Sure thing, Tony,” the girl said with a wide smile.

“Veronica's not bad, either,” Tony cracked when she left. I frowned but didn't say anything. I may have to corral him, I thought, before I can drag him anywhere.

“Ya tryin' to catch up in a hurry, Tone?” Richie asked.

“Nah, deez glasses are like thimbles,” Tony said. “Besides, the drinks are watered-down in this fuckin' place.”

The guys traded comments and jokes as they polished off a couple of rounds of drinks. With their boisterous behavior and the loud music that shook the floor, it was impossible for the girls to trade much talk. I spent the time toying with my flute
and looking at everyone on the dance floor having fun as they contorted to the sounds that bounced off the walls.

I tugged Tony's arm after half an hour. “Can we dance?” I asked.

“Later,” he said without looking at me, and he continued his conversation with Vin. “So what's up with the lawyer?”

“That hard-on with a suitcase? He's worse than a loan-shark. Gonna take our lungs.”

“I thought your father was takin' care of it,” Tony said.

“Yeah, he said he would,” Vin said. “But we gotta take the weight ourselves.”

Tony shook his head from side to side. “Ya sure?” he asked.

“I'll show 'im I can handle things.”

“How?” Richie asked.

Vin turned toward Richie. “I got it all figured out,” he said. “Doze punks won' know what hit 'em.” Vin looked at Tony. “We'll talk aboudit later.”

“Okay by me,” Tony said, and then he stood up. “Gotta
pisciare
. Be right back.”

“Don' stand next to any
finocchios
who might try'n grab your best friend,” Vin cracked. Richie roared as Tony made his way to the men's room.

Vin put his arm on the back of my chair and leaned toward me. “So, ya met my father, huh?” he asked. I could smell the liquor on his breath.

“Yes. At his restaurant.”

“He liked you.”

My forehead wrinkled. “I didn't really talk to him that much,” I replied.

“That's what he liked,” Vin said with a smile, “'sides ya bein' a looker an' all.” He glanced at Dara and turned back to me. “We like women who can keep quiet. Ain't that right, Richie?”

Richie pulled Janice close and breathed into her face. “'Cept when we're on top of 'em, huh, baby?” Janice blushed and
Richie finished his thought with a chuckle. “Then they can scream all they want.”

Vin chuckled and reached for my wrist with his other hand. “Lemme see what my
compare
got ya for Christmas,” he said as he raised my arm and eyed the bracelet. “Hmm, not bad. Coppo has some fine stuff, no?”