Funny Boys (16 page)

“Sure, Gagie, we know,” Albert said.

“I mean I love dis area,” Gagie continued.

“Sure you do, Gagie,” Abie said patting his arm. “And we love ya ta love dis place, right, Frank?”

Costello blinked and a thin smile formed on his lips. The tension abated.

“I nevah had chopped liver at Thanksgiving,” Anastasia murmured, and the festive air returned as people concentrated on their food and talked to their partners.

“So did you see
Saratoga
with Clark Gable and Jean Harlow?” Mutzie asked Albert. Pep had made it a point while they were dressing that she was to be especially nice to Mr. Anastasia. Albert, he told her, was a very important man and it was absolutely necessary that he enjoy every minute of his stay at Gorlick’s. After dinner they were going to have a meeting and Albert and Mr. Costello were staying overnight.

“I ain’t seen dat one yet,” Albert said, smiling down at her as he ate his food. Conversation buzzed around the table and she could see that the people in the dining room continued to stare at them like they were royalty.

As they were finishing their turkey, Mickey Fine came to the table and introduced himself as the social director of the hotel, saying how honored he was by their company.

“I’m the tumler,” he said.

“Not only that,” Helen Reles said looking pointedly at Mutzie. Mickey ignored her remark and looked at Albert.

“Anyway I hope you enjoy your stay at Gorlick’s. I hope Garlic didn’t give you a room in which you stand up and a chain hits you on the head.”

“He means da crapper,” Albert said, laughing.

“He’s really very funny,” Mutzie said, winking at Mickey. “Some of the time.”

“Well, I hope you all enjoyed the meal, folks,” Mickey said.

“If there’s any more I’ll bust,” Mrs. Buchalter said.

“Busting is absolutely prohibited. Not until after dessert,” Mickey said.

Mr. Gorlick had come up behind him with a nervous look on his face. Mickey, seeing his look, retreated and started making rounds of the other tables.

“Is everything all right, folks?” Gorlick asked.

Mr. Buchalter made the everything’s perfect sign with his fingers and Mr. Costello nodded. It was, of course, understood that they were going to have an important meeting later, but as far as Mutzie could make out there was absolutely no more talk of business and everybody behaved perfectly.

During dessert, Mickey got up and announced that the show that night would feature a special performance by him and a surprise guest. He looked toward the table where Mutzie was sitting. Helen caught Mutzie’s eye and winked.

Mickey was the master of ceremonies. There was always a singer who belted out Tin Pan Alley songs and a small musical combo. The singer was so-so, but the audience was polite and reasonably attentive.

Then Mickey made his surprise announcement and Mutzie stood up. There was a round of applause.

“Ya nevah tole me,” Pep said. He seemed angry but Mutzie wasn’t sure.

“It’s a surprise, like the tumler said, Pep,” Mutzie said.

“Ya shoulda tole me.”

“They were together rehearsing all week,” Helen said, directing her remark to Pep.

“And he made me real happy,” Mutzie said pointedly.

“I’ll bet,” Helen Reles said, shooting Pep a sarcastic glance.

Mutzie shrugged and walked up to the little stage.

“She’s a looka,” she heard Albert say. “I like dat, Pep.”

“I’m very nervous,” Mutzie told Mickey when she reached the stage.

“You’ll be great,” Mickey told her. She took a deep breath and steadied herself. She would show Pep how happy he had made her.

“Break a leg,” he whispered.

“Hope that’s all I break.”

They began their rapid-fire routine. Mickey looked at Mutzie and began.

“Waiter, what’s this fly doing in my soup?”

“Looks like the backstroke to me.”

The audience laughed and Mutzie and Mickey gave them more and more. Their timing was flawless. Then Mutzie did a Jessel routine Mickey had taught her.

“Mama, how do you like the love bird I bought for the front room? What? You cooked it? You cooked a South American bird? A bird that speaks five languages? Oh, you didn’t know. He should have said something.”

The audience was in stitches and they continued their routines. Mutzie was no longer nervous. She looked at Pep, whose shoulders shook with laughter. Albert Anastasia was hysterical. Helen Reles looked unhappy.

“Darling, I dreamed last night you bought me a mink coat,” Mutzie said. She felt that they were on a roll.

“That’s nice. Next time you dream wear it in good health,” Mickey said. More jokes followed to thunderous applause.

Their parody of “Makin’ Whoopee,” in which Mickey imitated Eddie Cantor and Mutzie made cute faces and acted as a foil was a great closer. He sang and she acted the coquette:

Now this place has the atmosphere

For little girls—who have no fear

For in the nighttime, why that’s the right time

For makin Etzele, Petzele, Gaggele, Googele, Etzele,

Petzele Zetz

For in the morning, you wake up yawning

From all the whoopee you made till dawning.

The audience roared.

Mutzie came back to the table and Pep embraced her. Albert did the same.

“Ain’t she sumpin,” Pep said.

“Betta believe. And I loved da boy, too,” Albert said. He looked over at Gorlick, who was grinning with pleasure. “You gotta good one here, Gorlick.”

“They went together like cream cheese and jelly,” Helen said so that they could all hear.

When they had settled down, the waiters served coffee and brandy. They lifted their glasses to a number of toasts. Suddenly, Mutzie felt Albert Anastasia touch her knee with his. Her leg froze. She didn’t know what to do. She looked at Pep who was busy talking to Mr. Costello. She felt Albert’s entire calf rubbing up against her.

Careful not to make a scene, she kept her leg frozen next to Albert’s and tugged Pep’s sleeve. He stopped talking to Costello and turned toward Mutzie, who forced her lips into a smile. As he rubbed Mutzie’s leg with his, Albert talked to Bugsy’s wife, who was sitting next to him.

“My leg,” she whispered. “He’s rubbing my leg.”

“Good,” Pep whispered back. “Rub him back.”

“But Pep …”

“Anyting he wants, capish?”

She didn’t know what to do. She looked around helplessly, but she did not rub him back. When he finished talking to Mrs. Goldstein, he turned back to Mutzie.

“Pep says yaw quite a girlie,” Albert said.

“Me and Pep are, you know …” She had trouble getting the words out.

“So I heah,” Albert said. “That’s good. Pep got good taste.”

His hand ducked under the table and grasped her thigh. An icy tremor shot through her. Her chest constricted and her breath seemed to come in gasps. But Albert’s hand continued busily.

“I have to go to the ladies’ room,” she announced suddenly.

Albert squeezed her upper thigh.

“Hurry back,” he said, winking. When he released her, she got up.

Her legs felt unsteady as she walked across the dining room. She was confused, unable to understand what was happening. Pep had told her to rub Albert back. What did that mean? He had promised, hadn’t he? She was his, only his. She felt all eyes scrutinizing her as if she were naked. When she reached the lobby, she started toward the ladies’ room. But before she could push open the door, she felt a hand on her shoulder pulling her back. It was Pep. He put his arm under hers and walked her out to the porch. It was a chilly night and that section of the porch was deserted. She immediately fell into his arms.

“Oh, Pep,” she cried. “I was so scared.”

“You my numba one?” Pep said. He gave her a deep soul kiss. After the kiss he said, “You was great wit dem jokes. Albert loved it.”

“He got fresh, Pep. I didn’t know what to do.”

“I’m gonna tell ya. You’ll do anyting for Pep, won’t ya, baby?”

“Oh, Pep you know that,” she said. Her fear was accelerating and her legs were wobbly.

“Anyting Pep wants you to do, right?”

He was kissing her neck and she felt his tongue slip into her ear. Her reaction was disgust. At that moment she heard movement on the porch. Pep stopped kissing her and shouted into the darkness.

“Get da fuck outa here.”

From her vantage Mutzie caught a brief glimpse of a person. Mickey Fine. What was he doing here? Pep was turned in another direction and couldn’t see him.

“Putz,” Pep muttered.

The interruption seemed to change his mood. He grabbed Mutzie by the shoulders and looked into her face.

“Ya gonna be nice ta Albert tonight, Mutzie,” Pep said. “Ya gonna do dis for ole Pep, unnerstand?”

“I am being nice to him, Pep,” she said, her heart beating in sudden panic.

“I mean real nice, baby. I want ya should be Pep’s present to Albert.”

“I don’t understand, Pep,” Mutzie said fearing the worst.

“I gotta draw ya a pitcher?” Pep said, squeezing her shoulders. “I want ya ta show him all da stuff Pep taught ya. The good stuff. I want ya ta make Albert feel real good.”

“You mean …” She could barely talk. “Pep. You promised. I can’t do that.”

“This don’t count, Mutz. This is just business. Ain’t got nothing to do wit you and me. He’s onea da important bosses and he done good tings faw me and I gotta show respeck.”

“I can’t, Pep. Please, Pep. I can’t. I want to be true to you, Pep.”

She was pleading, begging, knowing that a reprieve was impossible.

“And ya betta be, Mutz. Ya betta. Hear me good. But dis fava has nothin to do wit you and me. Nothin. It’s like … like I’m giving da boss a box of candy.” He laughed suddenly at his joke.

“Please, Pep.” She felt a sob begin deep inside her. “What about respect for me?”

“I respeck ya maw, ya do dis for me, Mutz. Shows yaw true love.”

Love? The word has lost all meaning. She wanted to run as far away from this place as her feet could carry her. That was a hopeless dream.

“I can’t, Pep. Please. You can’t …” She felt him stiffen and she could feel him suck in a deep breath. He jabbed her chest-bone hard.

“Now you listen, girlie. I want ya to fuck him, fuck him good. Give him anyting he wants. Youse my gift to Albert. Ya hold back and I getta bad report, we got problems, Mutzie.”

Her body seemed to dissolve, and with it any shred of dignity. He was passing her around like the lowest kind of whore.

“I can’t, Pep,” she mumbled, but her courage was failing. Escape was impossible. She was trapped. Worse, she felt she deserved this fate. She had brought it on herself.

“No can’ts,” Pep said, menacingly, putting a hand over her mouth. “No ifs. No buts. No talk.” He raised a finger and waved it in front of her nose. “Ya wanna stay Pep’s numba one, ya fuck Albert Anastasia tonight. Ya fuck him good. He don come down smiling, ya gonna be sorry.”

She tried to shake her head in the negative, but he held it steady with one hand over her mouth and the other tightly grasping her chin. She felt helpless, humiliated, degraded. No, she
decided, this is only a movie. We are acting out this scene. It is not real. Pep couldn’t do this to his number one. Not Pep.

“Ya make Pep look bad, den ya say goodbye to dis pretty little face, got it? And that ain’t all.” He removed his hand from her chin and grabbed at her crotch. She squirmed in pain. “You ain’t nevah seen what a baseball bat can do.”

She closed her eyes. Hot tears brimmed over her cheeks. She felt utterly defeated as a person.

“Ya fuck who I tell ya to fuck, Mutzie. You’re my numba one private stock. I catch you givin it away to somebody that ain’t got Pep’s okay, ya go into the shitter.”

She swallowed to keep down her food, trying to focus on his words. Sudden she found herself dealing with one issue … survival.

“Now I’m gonna take my hand away from yaw mout and yaw gonna smile and give ole Pep one big kiss, ain’t ya.” She swallowed but did not give him any sign of consent. “Ain’t ya,” he repeated. She nodded. She was beyond resisting.

Slowly he released his hand over her mouth and pressed his lips to hers. She felt his tongue slide in and she tried her best to respond, afraid that any lack of response would make him do something terrible to her.

“Dat’s my goil,” Pep said. “Now ya take dat sweet liddle tush ta da ladies’ room and get yourself lookin good and smellin nice faw Albert.” He released her and she started to move toward the door, fighting with her legs, which tried to resist her movement.

“And Mutzie,” he said. She stopped, obeying instantly, frightened, hoping she could hold her food down. “I wanna see ya smile, baby.”

With effort, she turned and forced her lips to form a smile.

“Ats my numba one,” Pep said.

She managed to reach the ladies’ room, where she bent over
the toilet bowl and threw up. Then she washed and looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were swollen and tears had streaked her makeup. She no longer felt like a person. She wanted to leave this place, go home, disappear. But she knew that was impossible. Pep would find her and he would do those awful things that he had threatened. How had she come to this? She cursed her naïveté, her stupidity, her ignorance.

She washed her face, repaired her makeup and brushed her hair. Surely, there was some way out of this. Unless Pep was just playacting, which he sometimes did in their lovemaking. Once he had tied her up hands and legs and made all kinds of terrible threats and it had excited him greatly. But, of course, he had warned her in advance that it was only a game. What was happening now was definitely not a game.

Or maybe it was just a test of her loyalty. Maybe the idea was to prove her loyalty and her love for Pep by obeying his command. These Brownsville boys had a strange code of loyalty. Loyalty was an important consideration to these men, and the quality they valued most. So this was just a test, she told herself, a test to prove that she was Pep’s girl, his number one.

The thought made her feel somewhat better and she was able to muster her strength and return to the dining room. The table was filled with bottles, glasses and cookies. Pep watched her as she came forward.