Brooklyn Story (8 page)

We continued eating our breakfast in silence; it was no use trying to make idle chatter when Mom was crabby, which was more often than not. She must have been in some kind of pain last night to be in such a bad mood, I reasoned.

When the phone rang. I jumped up, grabbed the kitchen extension, and said hello.

“Samantha?” Tony asked. “Is that you?”

“Yeah,” I said, twisting the curled black cord around my fingers. Colored wires showed through where it plugged into the wall, but a new phone cord was at the bottom of the Bonti shopping list. I wished my mother and grandmother would leave the room but they sat where they were. I turned my back to the table.

“I hear ya called at the crack a dawn,” Tony said.

“Ten o'clock, if you call that the crack of dawn.”

“What're ya up ta?”

“Mom, Grandma, and me are havin' a little breakfast.”

“That's real nice. I like ya havin' breakfast with your family.” Too bad they hadn't heard that, I thought. “What about you?” I asked.

“I'm wakin' up. You sound good this morning, Samantha Bonti. I'm comin' over.”

“No. Yes. I mean, if you come by at two, that'll be good.” I figured I could cash the check and have Mom's medications back home well before then.

“Hey, you seein' someone else?” he asked.

“'Course not. I told ya last night and I don't lie.”

“I like that, too,” Tony said. “Hey. Ya ever been on a motorcycle?”

My stomach fluttered. “You got one?” I asked, and felt my mother's and grandmother's eyes glaring at my back.

“Shit yeah,” Tony said. “A Harley.”

“Wow.” I glanced over my shoulder and saw my mother's
raised eyebrows. I knew that I could never let her or Grandma know about Tony's bike.

“See ya at two,” he said.

“I'm not sure, Tony.”

“What'ya mean? Ya just said it was okay.”

I bent my head and lowered my voice. “I mean the ride. My mom …”

“Don' worry. I'll meet ya at the end of the block,” Tony said. I hesitated.

“Okay?” I squeezed the receiver. “Sure, Tone,” I said.

“Good. Get ready for the time a ya life. Ya scared?”

“Should I be?”

“Nah,” Tony said. “See ya later.” I hung up the phone.

“What's goin on?” Mom asked as I sat down.

“Nuthin'. We're goin' out later.”

“He calls, and you just jump?” Mom asked.

“It's just a casual date, Mom.”

“Yeah, well, that's how it starts. School's startin' soon and I don' want ya gettin' tied up with some punk.”

My face reddened. “He's not a punk!” I blurted.

Grandma intervened again. “Sam, if you're finished with your breakfast, go get the check. Mom needs her pills.”

Grateful to be given an out, I ran into my bedroom to dress. Thank God for my mother's sake, Mr. Weisbaum's place was open on Sundays. Jews celebrated on Saturday; Sunday was for Catholics.

I was surprised at how easily I had lied to my mother without thinking twice, and I didn't feel good about it. I didn't lie. I wondered if that was what bad boys did to you and whether Tony was one. Did bad boys turn you into a liar before you knew what hit you? I decided to get that out of my mind. It wasn't really much of a lie, anyway. I was just going to have some fun. I pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.

No matter what I'd told Tony, I was plenty scared.

“How come you're wearin' a skirt?” Tony asked, straddling the idling Harley with his arms crossed after I had rushed to the corner. “I told ya we were takin' a ride on a bike.”

“I don't know,” I said, catching my breath. I felt like a total fool. I knew I should have kept my jeans on, but I had wanted to look feminine. “I wanted to look good for you.”

“Don' ever wear a skirt if I ask ya ta ride wid me again,” he said.

“Want me to go back and change?”

Tony picked at a hole in the knee of his blue jeans. “Nah. I'll let it go this time.” He grabbed the handlebars and gave the powerful machine some gas. The bike roared under Tony's body, itching to start rolling.

“So where we goin'?” I yelled.

“Sheepshead Bay,” he responded, and then looked at me intently. “Now I'm gonna tell ya what ta do and be sure ta listen. I don' need some dumb girl fuckin' up my ride.”

I put my hands on my hips and looked him in the eye. “I'm not a dumb girl,” I said.

“Prove it,” Tony said, and then he explained how and when to get on, how to hold on to him, what to do when he turned corners, and how to get off. I listened hard, determined to show
him. “Keep that skirt down, unless you want some horny guys lookin' at your underpants.”

“What if I'm not wearing any?” I teased.

“Ya better be.”

I swung my leg over the bike, tucked my skirt under my legs, tightened my arms around Tony's leather jacket. I felt the engine vibrations all the way up my spine as we took off around the corner in a roar of thundering horsepower. I tried not to forget what he'd just told me. “Lean into the turn, not away,” he'd said. It was thrilling! I didn't want to topple the prize bike, but each time he made a turn, I felt like we were about to fall. I was a quick study.

By the time we pulled up to Vincenzio's Restaurant, a local dining spot on Avenue U, I felt like I'd gotten the hang of motorcycling. Although it had been frightening, I had reveled in the freedom I felt with the wind in my face and Tony's warm body against me. Then Tony freaked me out by popping a few wheelies in front of the restaurant. After holding on for dear life, I was shaken and breathless when Tony stopped at the curb. I inhaled his cologne. That was really living! I thought. I could never tell my mother, but wondered if someone had spotted us on the bike and would blab to her. All hell would break loose if that happened, that was for sure, but I didn't care at that moment. I was with Tony and I felt good.

When he turned off the engine, Vin and Richie came out to the curb to ooh and aah over Tony's Harley. I could not have felt prouder as Tony took my hand and helped me as we got off the bike. Damn, he liked to be on display, and I had to admit that I liked it, too. I patted my skirt down while Tony and his friends knocked fists together.

I looked behind Richie. “Hey, where's Janice?” I asked.

Richie looked at Tony and cleared his throat. “She wasn't feelin' so good.”

“What's wrong with her?” I asked. “I talked to her this morning and she was fine.”

“Flu. Came on suddenly.”

“I ought to go visit her, I guess,” I said.

“Nah,” he said. “She's sleepin'. Doctor said she had to get lots of sleep.”

“She saw the doctor? Jeez, she must be in bad shape.”

“I jus' told ya,” Richie said through clenched teeth, “she's okay. She got disoriented and fell down. Just leave it alone.”

I stared at Richie's face. Did Janice have the flu or had she fallen down? It was obvious to me that Richie was lying, but I didn't know why, and it was pretty clear he wasn't about to tell me. No matter what he said, I'd visit her after Tony brought me home. I turned my attention back to my boyfriend, who made me feel special, like neighborhood royalty. I was the Queen of May as I walked into the restaurant with the coolest guy in Bensonhurst.

Vin directed us to where Dara was sitting. We joined her and Tony ordered a lemonade for me and a draft beer for himself. I hoped it wouldn't affect his ability to ride the bike, but I refused to let anything break the spell. I could always walk home if he got too drunk, I reasoned.

Dara wasn't in a good mood and said a brusque hello. I was afraid she might do something stupid like Janice told me she did the last time she was crabby. Dara had picked a fight with Vin and ended up sprawled on the floor. She had to limp home that day. I tried to perk her up. “Ya look nice, Dara,” I said. “How's it goin'?”

“Okay,” Dara said with a blank face as she looked me over. “The ride must have been fun. Too bad your hair got screwed up, though.” I reached up to smooth my windblown mane.

When the waitress arrived with the drinks, Tony ordered a pizza for the two of us. He hadn't bothered asking me what I wanted; I would have ordered a plate of baked clams because the establishment near the water was mainly a seafood place and Mom rarely splurged on fish. On the rare occasions when
I ate out with schoolmates, I rarely ordered the hamburgers and fries and Cokes like everyone else did. I'd have salads and salmon and vegetables instead. I had done research on food after reading about proper nutrition in the grown-up magazines I'd peruse in the school library. It confirmed what I'd always suspected about Mom's Kraft macaroni and cheese, Weaver Chicken, and Rice-A-Roni, which she'd buy when the welfare check came in. Even though it wasn't my preference, it was still really tasty.

The pizza arrived and I ate my share of the pie and looked around the family-style restaurant, brightly lit with large tables, as the guys talked. Vincenzio's was one of the places where Brooklyn Boys took their girls to eat and chat and talk about whoever wasn't there. I'd been there a couple of times, but never with a guy like Tony. It gave me status to be seen with him and I liked that. His great looks didn't hurt, either. But those weren't the main reasons I was into Tony. What turned me on the most was how interested he was in
me.

I swallowed a bite as the conversation about matters that were foreign to me went on. “It's all set, then?” Tony asked Vin.

“Yeah,” Vin replied, “Tino took care a everythin'.”

“Good,” Tony said. “Weez can make da rounds later.”

I had no idea what they were referring to and didn't care. I was looking forward to making my own rounds around town with a new boyfriend, one who excited me. I couldn't wait to be on his arm everywhere.

Tony only had one more beer and within an hour we were back on the Harley. I felt like an old pro, except when he popped wheelies again before we sped off. I hoped he wouldn't do that on my block. I squeezed his midsection as we rode into the wind, inhaling the fresh air and taking in the scenery. We were a unit of two, roaring our way through a world of sensations that rocked my body and mind.

“Didja like it?” Tony asked over his shoulder, his blue eyes
sparkling, when we stopped at the end of my street. “Sure did, Tony,” I said. I didn't mention how I had felt about the wheelies. What if he got offended and decided I wasn't tough enough to be his girl? Then I looked at him with eager anticipation. “How'd I do?”

“Youse was great. Did you see the looks in the guys' eyes? They were jealous as hell.” He helped me off the bike, set me on the sidewalk, and remained straddled above the hot metal.

“Dara didn't look real happy,” I said.

“Donkeys are always unhappy. Next thing you know she might even bray. Wouldn't that be a hoot?”

I didn't think so but didn't have time to respond. Tony pulled me close, arching my back, and kissed my lips. He let go of me, smiled, and sang a few lines from a Diana Ross hit:

Upside down you're turning me
You're giving love instinctively
Around and round you're turning me …

“Not bad for a tough guy,” I said.

Tony crossed his arms. “Hey, we're all goin' to the movies later,” he said. “Wanna come?”

“Who's we all?” I asked.

“Vin, Dara, Richie, Janice. Ya know, the gang.”

“I thought Janice had the flu.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot. Vin, Richie, and Dara. So we on or not?” I hesitated. “Don' worry,” he said. “I'll pick ya up in my car. I'll even come in and meet your mom and grandma. Parents love me.”

I still didn't say anything. There was nothing I would rather do than go to the movies with Tony, but I didn't want him to see my home. The furniture was threadbare, so worn-out we had thrown white sheets over the ratty material. Being poor sucked, I thought, as I had countless times before. Would I have to keep my boyfriends at bay and never let them see
my surroundings until I walked down the aisle? I wondered. I thought if Tony had the rescuing gene, like it seemed he did, it would work in my favor. If he didn't, he might be history.

“What's the matter, Sam?” Tony asked. “Any girl in Benson-hurst would be glad ta be wid me.”

“Nuthin',” I said. I really wanted to go out with him whenever and wherever he planned to take me. And I felt I was a catch, too. Tony and his buddies knew the difference between good girls and bad girls, the so-called sluts in our neighborhood. I was a good girl, every Brooklyn Boy's dream—young and innocent enough for a guy to mold into what he wanted. That's how it went down in Brooklyn. I decided Tony would have to see the worst sooner rather than later. My life was what it was, I reasoned, and I had to be proud and grateful for what God had given me, I decided. “I'll come,” I said. “What's playin'?”