Tony Partly Cloudy (32 page)

Seeing Tony beginning to bristle, Jimmy hastily added, “And here’s where it gets smart. We’d have a safeguard – you know, so that nobody’s life would be threatened by an inaccurate forecast. We’d work out some kind of signal so you could let us know whether the fix was on or off, and it would be entirely at your discretion. That way you’d never put anybody in any danger – I mean, I know how you feel about that kind of thing.”

“And when you say
long-term
... ?”

“I mean we could do this indefinitely. Tony, I don’t know if you realize the kind of money this could generate. We keep this up, taking small bites instead of going for the quick score like those Vegas pricks, and this could go on for years. This could make you rich.
Seriously
rich. I’m talking your own mansion. Your own limo. Your own Eric. Maybe even your own jet.”

Tony looked over his shoulder at Eric. If the huge man had overheard himself being talked about like a possession, he gave no indication.

Jimmy sat staring at Tony, his pitch evidently concluded.

Tony leaned forward, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Jimmy...”

Now Jimmy’s voice went ice cold. “Tony, people got dead over this. This is serious business.”

Tony thought back to the parking lot debacle. “Yeah, Paulie Wheels said there was a war going on.”

Jimmy grimaced. “Paulie talks too much. But it doesn’t matter now – the
war,
as he so indiscreetly called it, is over. Vegas got the message, and things are slowly getting back to normal. Oh, and you’re in the clear, too – you won’t need any of our guys hanging around watching your place anymore.”

Jimmy paused to check his watch. “We’re just tying up a few loose ends today, but after that, it should be business as usual. But let me tell you, it took a lot of work to make that happen.”

“Jimmy, you know how sorry I am about all this.”

“Forget about it. But you’ve got to understand the position you’re putting me in. This really
is
a sweet scam, and now that some people know about it, I’m under a lot of pressure from my organization to get you on board with this.”

This got Tony’s attention. “But you’re the boss. How can they pressure you?”

“Tony, you’ve never been in business, have you? You’ve never had to manage anybody. It’s a two-way street.” Jimmy paused, looking for the right words. “Yeah, I’m the boss. But a big part of why I’m the boss is that the people who work for me trust my judgment, my decisions. The stakes are high in this line of work – you’ve got to believe in what your leader is doing, or it’s hard to really get behind him. It’s a complex thing. It’s not just a case of me giving any kind of order I feel like giving. I’ve got to think in terms of what’s best for my business.”

“So if I don’t go along with this, what are you going to do? Is this like Vegas all over again? If I don’t play ball, you’re going to have me whacked?”

Jimmy shook his head, grimacing. “Christ, kid, you know I would never hurt a hair on your head. And now I think you know what happens to anybody I catch trying to hurt you. So, no – you wouldn’t get whacked. But we’d still have a problem.”

Jimmy’s face was as serious as Tony had ever seen it.

“And you don’t like problems,” Tony said.

“No,” said Jimmy.

“You like solutions.”

“Yeah.”

Tony sighed. “Yeah.”

The two men sat facing each other in silence. Then Jimmy smacked his palms on his knees and stood up, signifying that the meeting was over. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a card, which he handed to Tony.

“I’m going to be in town for the next few days. You need anything, you want to talk some more about this, you call me,
capisce
?”

Tony took the card. “Thanks, Jimmy.” He stood to walk Jimmy to the door. As he approached Eric, he realized something was different about him.

“So, where’s that long leather jacket you always wear?” Tony asked, gesturing toward the Chicago Bears windbreaker in which the giant was currently encased.

Eric frowned, a sight even more horrifying than his smile. “It’s back in New York, getting the bullet holes fixed.”

Tony felt sick. “Aw, Jesus – I been meaning to say something about that. I’m so unbelievably sorry for what happened to you that night. That was awful.”

Eric nodded. “Yeah, it was. I love that coat. I can’t believe that Vegas prick had to go and shoot it.” From Eric’s tone, it was clear he was far more upset about the damage that had been done to his jacket than any injuries he himself had sustained.

“Well, I’m really sorry. Can you maybe send me the bill at least?” Tony asked, hoping his weather anchor’s salary could pay for repairs to a leather coat roughly the size of Denmark.

“Nah, it’s okay,” Eric said in his high, gentle voice. “Guy who makes my clothes never charges me nothing.”

Somehow this didn’t surprise Tony. Trying to keep things light, he pointed to Eric’s jacket. “So, you a Bears fan?”

The look the huge New Yorker gave Tony would have killed a weaker man.

Jimmy cut in, saying, “Tony, we’ll be in touch.” He hugged Tony awkwardly, then pulled back and clapped him on the shoulders several times, punctuating his next remarks.

“You think about what we discussed. You’re a smart kid. You’ll figure out what to do.”

As Tony locked the door behind them, his phone began to ring.

“SARAH, CALM DOWN! I can’t understand what you’re saying!”

“I said, Fletcher is dead. He’s
dead
, Tony!”

“What happened to him? He have a heart attack or something?”

Sarah sighed, creating a burst of static on the phone. “No, Tony. It’s like I tried to tell you. It looks like somebody killed him. His car blew up. With him in it.”

“His freakin’ car blew up?”

“I just now found out. I was down in Bloomington most of the day on a story, and my cell phone didn’t have any service. So I just found out about it when I came back tonight, and the parking lot was all roped off with that crime scene tape.”

“Holy shit.”

“Holy shit is right. It looks like he was going out to lunch, got in his car, and when he started it, it blew up. You should see it – it’s so mangled you can hardly tell it’s a car. Three other cars in the lot got totaled by the blast, but it looks like nobody else got hurt.”

“Holy shit,” Tony repeated. “Does anybody have any idea who might have done it?”

“I don’t know. If they do, they’re not telling me. There’s about a million cops swarming the station. Mostly local police, but I even saw some people with
FBI
written on the backs of their jackets. Oh, and there’s this weird guy from Las Vegas named Ramsey. He—”

“Somebody’s there from Vegas?” Tony interrupted. “Who is it? What does he look like?”

“If you’ll let me get a word in edgewise, I’ll tell you. He’s some reporter from out there. He just flew into town – he said he had an appointment to meet with Fletcher. But there’s nothing in Fletcher’s schedule about it, and Claudette doesn’t know anything about it. So the cops are
very
interested in him.”

Tony spoke slowly, and probably a little too loud. “Sarah, are they sure this guy is really a reporter? Did they check his ID and stuff?”

“Oh, he’s definitely a reporter. I met the guy, and believe me, I know one when I see one. And so does he – he actually wanted to ask me a few questions. But you know what was weird?”

“No,” Tony said, dreading the answer. “What was weird?”

“He didn’t really ask me much about Fletcher. Instead, he mostly asked me questions about
you
. Wanted to know if I had ever met any of your family.”

“So what did you tell him?” Tony asked, struggling to conceal his panic.

“I said no, that they were all in New York. Oh, shit!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I forgot about your uncle Jimmy. I should have mentioned him. I wasn’t even thinking – you know, ‘cause I was so freaked out about what happened to Fletcher.”

“Sarah, do me a favor. Please do
not
mention Jimmy’s name to this guy, or to anybody else who asks. Will you promise me?”

Tony could sense Sarah’s confusion. “Why shouldn’t I say anything about him? He’s such a sweetie.”

“I know, I know,” Tony said. “He’s a great guy. He just really values his, you know, privacy and all.” Tony knew how lame he sounded, and hated his inability to explain.

Sarah’s bullshit detector was – as usual – fully functional.

“Tony, what the hell is going on?”

Tony sighed. “Listen – you’re still coming up tomorrow, right?”

“I’d been planning to,” Sarah said, “unless this thing hangs me up here. But don’t change the subject. What the hell is going on?”

“It’s complicated,” Tony said. “I’ll tell you tomorrow when you get here, okay? I promise.”

“The very second that I get there?” Sarah demanded.

“Well, actually, there’s that other thing that we usually do when you first get here,” Tony said, allowing himself to smile. “I was kinda hoping that would be the first thing we’d do.”

This got a slight giggle out of Sarah, which Tony took as a promising sign.

“Okay,” she said, “so the
second
thing you’re going to do when I get there tomorrow is tell me what the hell’s going on.”

“You got yourself a deal.”

♠ ♥ ♣ ♦

The plan was to tell her everything. So he started at the beginning.

Frankie B. Jimmy. The Partly Cloudy Poker Club. How he left it all behind for meteorology until Eddie and Busgy showed up in his apartment.

He told her about the tornado, and the money they lost in Vegas. He glossed over the death threat and the parking-lot shootout, and hadn’t gotten to the part where Jimmy had come to call in his marker when Sarah cut in.

“You have
got
to be kidding me.”

Unsure if he should continue, Tony sat silently on his couch, while Sarah paced around his living room shaking her head. He couldn’t tell if her expression was disbelief or anger. Probably both, he guessed.

Finally he said, “I wish I was kidding. But this is for real.”

“I mean, how on earth did you get involved in all this... this gangster stuff? With guys who bet on the weather?”

“They reached out to me,” Tony said. “I got stuck in a rock in a hard place.”

Sarah sighed, cracking the faintest of smiles. “In
between
a rock
and
a hard place. Where the hell did you learn English?”

Tony shrugged. “When you meet my old man, you’ll get some idea why I talk the way I do.”

Sarah’s face grew serious. “But why didn’t you tell me? I can’t believe you hid all this from me.”

She suddenly pointed an accusing finger at him. “Oh, wait, I know. This is some of that macho Mafia bullshit, isn’t it? That code of silence thing, like in The Godfather? What do they call it – Omega... Omerta?”

“We don’t call it nothing, and no, that’s not it. I just didn’t know how to talk to you about this stuff, you know?”

“You could have at least tried.”

“I know, I know.”

“And Jimmy? I can’t believe that sweet man is really some kind of a... a Mafia kingpin.”

Tony winced. “Who the hell talks like that? Nobody I know ever walked around calling anybody a freakin’ kingpin. And we don’t call it the Mafia.”

“We?”

“We what?” Tony asked, confused.

Sarah said, “That’s the second time you’ve said
we
.
We
don’t call it Omerta.
We
don’t call it the Mafia.”

Tony fumbled for an explanation. “I meant, like,
we Italians
. You know, as a culture.”

Not sure if Sarah was buying this, he attempted to divert the conversation. “You know, you’re a reporter – I’m surprised you didn’t recognize Jimmy’s name. He’s a pretty powerful guy.”

Sarah said, “His name sounded familiar, but I didn’t put it together. I mean, you introduced him as your uncle. And he’s so charming.”

“He’s a good guy, overall. But he’s in a rough line of work.” Tony leaned forward on the couch to emphasize his words. “And it’s a line of work I chose to stay out of, even though he invited me in.”

“You swear?”

“Swear to God, on my Nona Maria. But I gotta admit, the guy did help get me through college. And later on, unknownst to me—”

“Un
be
knownst,” Sarah said.

“Can I finish one freakin’ sentence? Anyways, it turns out Jimmy had a hand in getting me an audition back at WEFQ. Apparently he went to bat for me when he heard from
somebody who shall remain nameless
that I was getting stonewalled there.”

He watched it dawn on Sarah’s face. “Oh my God,” she said. “That night, when I talked to him at the restaurant?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah. I know you had the best of intentions, but it put a bug in his ear to do what he could to help me out.”

“Honey, I had no idea... no idea about any of this.”

“I know, I know. This is just unavoidable stuff, you know? You can’t get away from who you are. You can try to walk away from it, but sooner or later it catches up with you.”

“But you said that’s not who you are,” Sarah protested.

“It’s not,” Tony said, “but it is my family. I mean, no, I’m not a gangster. But those guys are part of my life. And back when I was a kid, I’ll admit I earned some money doing errands and stuff for them.”

Sarah shot him a look. “Define
stuff
,” she said.

“Nothing major. Maybe drive some made guys around. Pick them up at the airport, drive them to hotels, restaurants. That kind of stuff.”

Sarah looked dubious. “Nothing worse than that? I mean, I can’t picture you being involved in anything really, you know, evil. But then, until ten minutes ago, I didn’t realize some of your family is in the Mafia.”

Tony winced. “I told you, we don’t call it that.” Not wanting to make the same mistake a third time, he quickly said, “
They
don’t call it that. They just call it the family business.”

“Very cute,” Sarah said without enthusiasm.

She plopped down on the couch next to Tony, and turned to face him, her voice grave with concern. “But you’ve got to tell me now, while we’re in true confessions mode. Is there anything else I need to know? Did you do anything really bad?”

Tony sighed. “Well, okay. For the secret Omerta initiation ritual, I did have to whack this one capo who had fallen into disfavor with one of the consiglieres...”

Sarah gaped.

“...and they made me do it with this special ceremonial ice pick that’s been handed down in the family for generations, you know...”

Tony couldn’t keep it up, and started laughing uncontrollably.

“You...
bastard
...” Sarah stammered, raising her fist.

“C’mon, Sarah,” Tony said, still laughing, easily fending off her blows. “It was a freakin’ joke. I mean, Jesus – secret Omerta initiation ritual? Ceremonial ice pick? I can’t believe you bought that.”

Despite her efforts not to laugh, Tony sensed he was making headway. Then Sarah froze, her face going pale.

“Sarah – what is it?”

Sarah stared at him a long time. Then she spoke, saying just one word.

“Fletcher.”

Tony closed his eyes and sighed.

“They killed him, didn’t they? Didn’t they, Tony?”

“I don’t know,” Tony said, looking up at her.

Sarah was on her feet again, her eyes wild. “Who did it, Tony? The guys from Las Vegas? Is that why there’s a reporter from Las Vegas sniffing around the station?” Sarah’s voice was growing louder, her anger more manic. “Or was it Jimmy?
Sweet Uncle Jimmy
?”

“I said I don’t know!”

Tony hadn’t meant to shout. Lowering his voice, he repeated, “I don’t know.” But he thought he did. He found himself remembering something Jimmy had said.
We’re just tying up a few loose ends today...

Now Sarah’s voice was scornful. “But is it safe to assume that it was somebody in the
family business
, as you so delicately call it?”

“Yeah,” said Tony, his voice little more than a whisper. “That would probably be a safe assumption.”

“Unbelievable. I do
not
believe this.” Sarah spun and walked away, disappearing into the bedroom.

Tony sat open-mouthed, groping for words that might appease her. But when he heard a loud thump followed by the sound of drawers being slammed shut, he got up to investigate. He found Sarah hurriedly packing her suitcase.

“Baby, what are you doing?” he said. “You just got here.”

“Unbelievable,” Sarah kept saying. “Unbelievable.” She zipped her suitcase shut, and turned to face Tony. “Unbelievable,” she said again. “My boyfriend is in the goddamn Mafia.”

“We don’t ca—”

“Don’t say it!” Sarah screamed. “Don’t say
we
one more time, not if you expect me to ever believe another word you say.”

Sarah grabbed her suitcase and dragged it awkwardly out of the room, with Tony trailing close behind. She stopped at the front door, turning to face him.

“Tony, I have been there for you. I have supported you and encouraged you, even when you got so caught up in being this famous celebrity that you forgot about the people in your life who love you. People like me.”

Tony started to say something but Sarah cut him off.

“I put up with all that because I do love you, and because I believed that what you and I had was strong enough – and
important
enough – to be worth the pain, and the loneliness, and the frustration. You told me this was just a phase, and I believed you. So I hung in there, waiting for this phase to pass, or for you to maybe grow out of it. But now I’m wondering if all this time I’ve been waiting for the wrong man.”

“Sarah...” Tony tried to reach for her, but Sarah recoiled.

“No, Tony. I can’t be with somebody in the Mafia, or in organized crime, or in the goddamn family business, or whatever the hell you want to call it. I can’t be with someone who solves their problems by blowing up cars.”

“That’s not who I am,” Tony said. “I told you that.”

“I know what you told me,” Sarah hissed. “But I just found out how much you
didn’t
tell me, so you’ll pardon me if I’m finding it slightly difficult to believe anything you say.” Sarah began fumbling with the lock on Tony’s front door.

“Sarah, you have to believe me.”

The door swung open, and Sarah whirled to face Tony.

“No, Tony, I do not. The only thing I have to do is get the hell out of here, so I can think. But you, on the other hand – you do have to do something. You have to
make
me believe you. Make me believe
in
you. Or this is over.”