ClownFellas (15 page)

When Jimmy Bozo woke in Earl Berryman's bedroom, he saw Vinnie looking down at him.

“You stupid son of a bitch,” Vinnie said.

“What?” Jimmy said. Then he winced at the pain that shot through his body when he spoke.

“Do you know how much trouble I'd be in if you got yourself killed?”

“Hey, fuck you, Blue Nose. I almost died back there.”

Vinnie stared him in the eyes. Jimmy stared back. Then they laughed.

“I can't believe we actually got through that one,” Vinnie said.

Jimmy chuckled. “I know, right? When we were in that basement with The Butcher, I thought we were toast. Did you ever send help for that legless guy we left behind? What was his name again?”

“Bobo,” Vinnie said. “Yeah, I called it in. Hopefully, he'll be all right.”

They looked down for a moment. They both knew that there was no way Bobo was going to be all right.

“You really need to be careful from now on,” Vinnie said. “The Juggler Brothers still want you dead. I might not be around to help you next time.”

Jimmy shrugged. “Don't worry about it. I can take care of myself.”

“Even when your father finds out about this?”

Jimmy chuckled at the comment, but Vinnie wasn't laughing.

“I'm serious,” Vinnie said. “You started a war by killing Pierre Beaumont. It's coming no matter what we do and it's going to end messy. Your father's not going to be happy about it.”

Jimmy stopped smiling and nodded in agreement. “We'll get through it. The Bozo Family always comes out on top.”

“Only when we use our heads,” Vinnie said. “And if you want to live to become boss of this family someday, you're going to have to start using yours.”

Jimmy didn't have a response. He knew the blue-nosed clown had a point, but he hated when Vinnie was right.

“Damn you, Blue Nose,” Jimmy said. “Why do you always have to act like you're so much smarter than everyone all the time?”

Vinnie replied, “Who said I'm acting?”

Then he pulled out a deck of cards from his suit pocket and passed them to Jimmy. The clown prince was going to need something to do while he was recovering, and exercising that lazy side of his brain was probably just the thing he needed. In the clowning business, without a good head on your shoulders, you needed to be lucky or you'd be a dead man. And luck in this town lasted only about as long as a scoop of rainbow sherbet on a summer afternoon.

They called him Pinky Smiles because the kid always had a smile on his face. And it wasn't no creepy maniac clown smile neither. It was a pleasant smile. A genuine smile. An I'm-having-a-good-day-and-don't-give-a-crap-who-knows-it kind of smile. Pinky, you see, was always in a good mood. Nothing could bring down this clown's spirits, not even on what would soon become the worst day of his candy-sucking life.

“Today's the day,” Pinky told Captain Spotty.

A bright cheery grin beamed off his face as they shoved the thrashing Scottish clown into the back of their car.

“Oh yeah?” Spotty asked, slamming the trunk down on the Scotsman's legs.

Pinky squinted at the morning sun breaking on the horizon.

“Today's the day I'm going to ask her to marry me.”

The Scottish clown's pink-and-blue kilt was pulled up to his waist, revealing a pair of yellow polka-dot boxers as he kicked his legs.

He cried, “Come on, Spotty. You don't have to do this. Give me another week!”

But the clownfella didn't acknowledge a single word he said.

“Good for you, kid.” Spotty slid an oversized row of brass knuckles onto his red-gloved hand. “I'm happy for you.”

Then Spotty punched the Scotsman in the face until two teeth were knocked loose and the clown's kilt was sprinkled with blood.

Pinky Smiles closed the trunk all the way. “See, I've got the ring with me right here.” He pulled out a white ring containing a rainbow-colored gem the size of a jawbreaker. “It'll take me all year to pay off the debt for a rock this big, but you know Taffy. She wouldn't go for anything smaller.”

Captain Spotty held the ring to the sunlight. “Holy smokes, kid. You really went all-out. It's not even a fake.”

“She's worth it.”

Nicky Bowtie poked his head out of the driver's-side window. “Are we going or what? We've got witnesses over here.”

Pinky and Spotty looked away from the ring and saw a crowd of spectators forming on the sidewalk near the car. Two old lady clowns who were out walking their perfectly manicured pink poodles pointed at the thumping and whining sounds coming out of the trunk. Spotty wiped the blood from the back of his car, pretending as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

“Let's go, kid,” Spotty said.

As they got into the car, Nick pointed at the elderly clowns and said, “You didn't see nothing.”

Then he sped away.

“I've got it all planned out,” Pinky said, raising his voice so he could be heard over all the thumping and honking coming from the trunk. “We're having dinner at Boffo's tonight. Once they bring out the dessert, the ring will be right in the middle of her slice of strawberry trufflecake.”

“You're such an idiot, Pink,” Nick said. “Even if Taffy says yes, which I highly doubt, Uncle Jojo's going to call it off the second he hears about it. She's his only daughter. There's no way he'd ever let her marry a two-bit half clown like you.”

“He's got a point there, kid,” Spotty said. “The underboss is really protective of his daughter. It's going to be tough convincing him.”

Nick slammed on the brakes when he got to a red light, causing their guest in the trunk to roll over and smack his head. “If I were you, I'd get far away from Taffy Bozo before you find yourself with a contract on your head.”

“You don't think Uncle Jojo would really go as far as that, do you?” Pinky asked.

“Are you kidding?” Nick said, straightening his massive bow tie in the mirror. “You're lucky you're still alive as it is. The last guy Taffy was in a serious relationship with ended up in the hospital with both his legs broken.”

“That's different,” Spotty said. “That guy wasn't a member of our family. He was just some junkie loser who used the underboss's daughter as a punching bag.”

“Still, though,” Nick said. “The kid's walking a dangerous line.”

“Unless Jojo approves of Pinky.”

“Yeah.” Nick snickered. “Like that's ever going to happen.”

Spotty looked back at Pinky and shook his head. “Are you kidding me? Jojo couldn't ask for a better son-in-law. And Taffy couldn't ask for a better husband.”

“And why's that?” Nick asked.

“He's respectful,” Spotty said. “He treats Taffy like the princess she is.”

“Princess?” Nick chuckled. “That's a nice way to describe that spoiled little bitch.”

“Hey, she's royalty,” Spotty said. “You don't talk about her that way.”

“She's worse than her cousin, Jimmy Bozo.” Nick glanced back at Pinky. “How can you even put up with her?”

Pinky paused for a minute. He wanted to describe all the ways he loved Taffy. It wasn't just how beautiful she was—a perfect clown body with big glowing blue eyes and a tiny round purple nose—or the way she styled her long pink hair up into a globe of curls, or even her cute high-pitched squeaky voice that made her sound like a cartoon baby bunny. It was the way she made him feel whenever they were together. She had a secret smile just for him. She had a look that she gave him when nobody else was around. She made him feel special because he was the only thing in the world that was good enough to make her happy.

He finally said, “Because she's perfect. She's my flower.”

Nicky Bowtie burst into laughter. “Yeah, a poisonous flower with thorns the size of switchblades.”

They fitted the Scotsman with a pair of concrete clown shoes, then carried him down the pier.

“Come on, Spotty,” the Scottish clown cried. “Just call my brother. He can get you the money. It's only fifty large. He makes that in a week.”

Spotty didn't have an ounce of sympathy in his voice. “This isn't just about the money you owe, McClanky.”

“What do you mean? What else could this be about if it's not the money?”

“You insulted Don Bozo.”

“What? When?”

“At the last poker game,” Spotty said. “You know, the one you weren't supposed to be at because you were already fifty large in the hole? You said he was fat and that his jokes aren't funny.”

“That!” McClanky cried. “That's all?”

“Don Bozo's a very sensitive clown. Your words hurt his feelings.”

“Are you freaking kidding me?”

“You also embarrassed him in front of his friends. A clown who isn't funny isn't much of a clown at all. And you know how it is, if he lets the insult go it'll make him look weak.”

“I was just messing around,” McClanky cried. “Everyone knows Don Bozo's jokes are funny. It's
my
jokes that aren't funny. Come on, you can't whack me just for telling a bad joke.”

Spotty looked over at Pinky. “Is the cement dry yet?”

Pinky leaned down and poked at the long shoes made of concrete. They were twice the width and three times the height of normal clown shoes, and heavy enough to sink an elephant. The cement was still a little wet to the touch, but solid. “It'll do.”

“Help me lift him up,” Spotty said.

Pinky grabbed the Scottish clown by his other leg, and they lifted him into the air. The guy weighed a ton.

“Come on, guys! You can't do this!”

McClanky continued to beg and cry when they tossed him over the side, but the Bozos had no pity for a guy who insulted their boss. They waited for the sound of a splash to quiet his screams, but for some reason it didn't come. The Scottish clown was still screaming and pleading for his life, as if hovering in midair.

“What happened?” Pinky asked.

“I didn't hear a splash,” Nick said, standing behind them while straightening his bow tie.

Spotty and Pinky looked over the edge to see McClanky hanging onto the support beam, clutching it with dear life.

“That's never happened before…,” Pinky said with a smile, completely amused by the situation.

Spotty let out a frustrated sigh. “We don't have time for this.” He looked over at Nick. “Go down there and pry him loose.”

“What are you talking about?” Nick asked. “How the heck am I supposed to get down there?”

“Jump in the water and pull him off.”

“But then I'll get my suit wet…”

“Then take it off,” Spotty said.

“Then I'd have to take off my bow tie. I never take off my bow tie. Not even when I'm having sex.”

“Do as you're told,” Spotty said.

“Can't we just push him off with a stick or something?”

Before the argument continued any further, Pinky climbed down the edge of the pier. “I'll do it.”

Without jumping into the water, Pinky dangled toward the Scottish clown and kicked his fingers until he lost his grip. McClanky hollered as he dropped into the murky water, sinking like a tricolored bowling ball.

When Pinky climbed back up and wiped the dirt from his baby-blue suspenders, Spotty looked at Nick and said, “That's why
he's
getting made before you, Nick.”

Nicky Bowtie leered at the idea. “You think they'd really promote a half clown before me?”

“You forget we work under Vinnie Blue Nose,” Spotty said. “He only judges people by how they get the job done. And I tell you, Pinky's going to be the next clown to get made.”

As they walked back to the car, Nicky Bowtie shook his head. “A half clown getting made in the Bozo Family? That'll be the day…”

Over at the Rainbow Gardens brothel, the three clowns met up with the other two members of Spotty's crew: Drips and Zippo. They were the Moretti brothers, two stubby little goofballs who hardly had enough smarts between them to cook a Pop-Tart.

“It's about time you guys got here,” Miss Tina said, racing toward them as they walked through the door. She pointed at Drips and Zippo in the background. “The place is in worse shape than it was
before
these two idiots got here.”

Spotty inspected his boys' work. There was smashed furniture and broken glass everywhere. “At least they got all the blood cleaned up. It doesn't look like a murder scene anymore.”

“How's it going, Cappy,” Drips said, saluting Captain Spotty with a blood-soaked mop.

Captain Spotty just ignored them, trying to figure out how much more work was required. The night before, Jimmy Bozo had shot up the place and killed some sorry sap in the process. It was the job of Spotty's crew to clean the place and pay for the damages.

“Have you heard from Vinnie?” Captain Spotty asked Miss Tina.

“Not since last night,” she said. “Once he calmed Jimmy down, the two of them took off in a hurry. No one's heard from them since.”

“And they took the body with them?”

“I assume so,” she said.

“I'm sure they're all right,” Spotty said. He pulled out a wad of money and flipped through the bills until he counted three grand.

“Will this cover the damages?” he said, holding up the money.

“It's a start,” she said, taking the cash and shoving it into her cleavage. “But it doesn't cover the cost of having this place closed for sixteen hours.”

Spotty handed over the rest of his money. “Contact Vinnie if you need more. I'll have people out here to fix the windows within the hour.”

“You better,” she said. “This place has to look as good as new by the time the sun goes down or there'll be hell to pay.”

“I'll make it happen,” Spotty said.

A cockroach crawled across his nose. When Miss Tina saw the vermin, she stepped back and gave him a look of disgust.

“And make sure my girls don't see any of those little
pets
of yours,” she said, pointing at the roach with her long shiny fingernail.

Spotty turned to his crew and smacked his hands together. “Okay, boys. I want this place spotless within the next three hours.”

Drips and Zippo tipped their oversized clown hats at him, knocking over the mop bucket in the process. Spotty shook his head at them.

“You can count on us,” Zippo said.

“Don't worry about a thing, Cappy,” Drips said.

The Moretti brothers were hard workers and as loyal as any clown could be, but they were absolutely ineffective at doing anything other than clowning around. If their father, Beano Moretti, weren't a high-ranking member of the family, Spotty never would have let them join his crew.

As the others got to work, the madam of the house took Pinky Smiles into the back.

“Hey, where's Pink going with Miss Tina?” asked Nicky Bowtie. “He was just saying how in love he was with Taffy Bozo. Now he's getting into bed with some old whore?”

“Don't be an idiot, Nick,” Spotty said, handing him a broom. “They're not doing what you think they're doing.”

“It sure looks like it to me.” Nick pointed at Pinky wrapping his arm around Miss Tina's waist as they went through the door.

“I highly doubt they're the incestuous type.”

“Huh?”

“You didn't know? Pinky Smiles is Miss Tina's son. He's probably just telling her the good news.”

“Really…,” Nick said. “He was raised by a whore? Makes me feel kind of lucky my parents were only restaurant owners.”

Spotty gave Nick a look. It was the look he always gave him, telling him to show a little more respect. Nobody called Miss Tina a whore in her own establishment.