When we were little he noticed things like a sweater, or a sticker on my Huffy bike. He poured iced tea on my head once, and I chased him, the two of us laughing until we were in tears. He talked about me when I wasn’t there.
When we were little he kept my secrets. He played my games. He sang my songs.
When we were little.
It was my fourteenth summer. I think something in me knew it was the last time I would see him. It was the last time we would see each other in this way. Maybe we would bump into each other later in life. But somehow on some level I knew this was the last time it would be like this. I had no idea where I was going. I just knew I was going. I had no idea what that even meant. But I knew I was leaving. In every way.
He was still straddling his bicycle when I ran down the stoop and into his arms. And he held me. Under a streetlight in the warm summer night on 84th Street. He had come when I called. He teased, but he came. And we stood there in the street inside this innocent hug at the edge of our childhoods. At the beginning of our lives. Where everything became different. And complicated. And real.
It was so hard to be 14. Everything was changing. My head and my heart, my friends, my body, my emotions. My desires. My future. Every day. Every damn day.
I was in his arms for a very long time. I was so safe there. Safe enough to cry on his shoulder. I didn’t even know why I was crying at the time. He didn’t ask. He just let me and held me.
It was one of the best hugs of my life.
I have a tendency to confuse remembering with missing.
But I’m not confused about this.
December 28, 2008
December 26, 2008
Passed
We all drew when we were little.
We all did art in some form.
We all colored, or made turkeys out of hands on construction paper in school.
We all drew suns with lines for the rays, over the stick figures of our families in front of our one dimensional houses.
Why do we stop.
When did we break?
When did it stop being ok to color.
I don’t remember which one of us it was.
Which one of us it was that broke the other.
I hope it was you, that’s how I’d like to recall it.
But I have that bad feeling that it was me,
And that’s the reason why I can’t look at your art.
Because you saw me at my worst
And no Words I can offer will erase that
But I don’t remember.
I hope it was you, that’s how I’d like to recall it.
I hope it was you that broke me.
There was a sweetness to you.
But I know you better
And I hope I’m not the reason.
I hope I’m not the reason you don’t color.
I’d rather you color and be the reason
I don’t.
.
December 23, 2008
The Science of Mary Janes
Perhaps it was a lack of mountains that contributed to the making of this molehill. And it had to do with boredom. I met him in a science class. He was from Italy. Adrian Brody could have played him in the movie. He was Straight Edge and I was wearing one of those little Donna Karan wool mini skirts with the matching knee socks and stacked heel Mary Janes. This was back when I drove that Jeep Wrangler and could go anywhere anytime no matter the weather. No matter.
And the weather was everywhere, wasn't it that year. He was Straight Edge and I was my own mountain. I don't think anyone could have played me in the movie. I don't think anyone could have played.
I met him in a science in a college in a class. And I gave him old blankets and forgave him when he asked. I admit that I never liked him. I admit I knew he was mean immediately. I admit that I drove a Jeep over everything. I admit my Mary Janes were sassy.
It was a time for stepping stones. A time to step and get stoned. Biblically and cardinally. I saw something stupid, I did something stupid. The moron in the science class. But he never knew and he left thinking he'd gotten over. Fool. The science teacher laughed about it at a concert with me years later over cocktails. I laughed back but felt bitten by the mole in the hill. It matters not in weather like this. After all, I was the shark. But no one knew. I never told.
I was the one driving the positraction jeep in knee socks and Mary Janes. I was wearing that little DKNY wool mini skirt.
He was Straight Edge. And I was a movie.
"I became a fabulous opera. I saw that everyone in the world was doomed to happiness. Action isn't life; it's merely a way of ruining a kind of strength, a means of destroying nerves. Morality is water on the brain." - Arthur Rimbaud
.
December 22, 2008
A Mugful
When I was little, my father would sometimes make me breakfast when my mother was too hung over to do it. He would put a piece of toast and a soft boiled egg in a cup, all cut up into small bite-sized pieces. I couldn’t have been more than 2 or 3. This was the 60’s, before sippy cups and all that shit. Dad would hand me this mug of egg and toast, and a spoon. He thought it was safe and mobile. No fork or knife I could hurt myself with. And he didn’t want to sit in the kitchen with me and watch me eat. He’d hand me the cup, and he’d leave. I could wander around with my mug of breakfast, watch cartoons, sit in the front window in Brooklyn watching the traffic from our first floor apartment, or go back to my bed. Some of my earliest memories involve gripping a stained green coffee mug as I ate and made my way around the 5 railroad rooms of that Bedford Park apartment alone in the morning.
I remember sitting in the window watching it snow. I remember how quiet it was and how early. Mom was asleep. Passed out, actually. Now that I think about it, Dad had probably just gotten home at 6:00am, and only stayed long enough to shower and change, and make me an egg and piece of toast. I remember feety pajamas, and a stuffed gray mouse with red ears. And I remember sitting in that window facing 55th Street, watching the world go by in the winter, in the snow.
I'm a million miles from there now. Not physically. But in every other way.
And I still sit in the window when it's snowing sometimes. With a mugful of breakfast. And I remember.
December 21, 2008
December 16, 2008
December 12, 2008
Chapter 1.5
“In the company of strangers
In the quiet of the railway station,
Running scared,
Laying low,
Seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go.”
-Simon & Garfunkel
Once in the apartment Flick put the pizza down and cracked himself open a beer. It was one room. One large room, with a kitchenette and an old steam radiator under the windows that faced the street. The table was cleared off and the chairs around it didn’t match. There were two beds. One had been slept in, one had not.
And one entire side of the room was a couch and coffee table, surrounded in stacks and stacks of books.
Luke walked in, a little wary.
“It’s not much, but it’s hard to get an apartment when you’re a minor.” Flick kicked his sneakers off and sat at the table.
Luke helped himself to a beer and said, “What’s with all the books?”
“I want to be a doctor.”
Somehow Luke was not surprised at that. The beer tasted good. The pizza, even more so. He looked around quietly. Coffee pot. Dirty coffee cups in the chipped sink. The closet door was opened. Jeans, sweatshirts, t-shirts. A couple of leather jackets, a couple pairs of old sneakers. There were 4 deadbolts on the door. Two baseball bats stood up against the corner behind the door. The side of the couch was ripped and stuffing was coming out. It looked like paradise.
Flick pointed to the made bed, “That’s where Nicky used to sleep. It’s yours if you want it.”
Luke looked at him feeling several things at once, from proud and defensive to grateful and tired. As he took a second slice of the pie he could see that his hands had stopped shaking. The discovery surprised him. He thought about Nicky and what might happen when he got out of jail. He thought about trust. He thought about being in deeper than he might want to be. He thought about his dead mother, and revenge. And he thought about leaving. And pride. And the cold cement. And dumpster diving. He looked at his hands. He looked at the door.
Flick watched as Luke's wheels turned. “Come on, Luke. Where are ya gonna go? The subway? The ferry? Where are you gonna sleep? It’s cold out there. Come on, just take the fucking bed.”
“I don’t know.”
“You earned your share of this month’s rent already.”
He had, hadn't he. This wasn't exactly a hand out. Luke nodded and took a seat at the table across from Flick. “If you’re sure.” Please be sure.
Flick took a huge mouth full of pizza and spoke through it, "I'm sure." He looked Luke over, swallowing. The pause wasn't uncomfortable, just noticeable. “You want to tell me your story?”
Luke sipped his beer. He sighed. He didn't want to blow this. It was working. And it was all he had. “No. Not yet. OK?”
Flick nodded. "OK. That's OK."
Luke let the quiet between them linger for a moment as he looked around the apartment again, noting that Flick was still attending high school and living here like this on his own. “You want to tell me yours?”
Flick shrugged. “Not yet.”
As he finished his final slice Luke sat back and said calmly, “You could have just asked me if I did drugs.” He hadn't planned on bringing it up. But he needed Flick to know that he wasn't clueless. Not anymore, anyway.
Flick sipped his beer and answered matter-of-factly, “If you did drugs, you wouldn’t be truthful.”
“Lucy’s done this test for you before?”
Flick nodded. "Many times. Most fail." He grinned and raised an eyebrow. “But most guys actually fuck her.”
Luke felt that shot. Did Flick think he was less of a man because he hadn’t done this girl like Flick had done his last night? Didn't he understand?
Flick could see Luke’s reaction and relented with a grin, “Hey, if it means anything to ya, I wasn’t with the other one.”
“No?”
“Nah, I was pretty much just listening at the wall. Last night was all about getting to know you." Flick sat with his legs spread as if even off guard and relaxed he was in perfect balance.
He continued, "Besides, Lucy’s my friend. I couldn’t just let you do what you wanted to her. I mean, I don’t know you yet. Some guys are really assholes. If you had hurt her, I would’ve come through that wall ready to kill you.”
Luke was wide eyed. “Was that part of the test too?”
Flick finished his beer. “There were a lot of tests. It was all a test. You were very respectful. You kept yourself in check. You showed me you are in control of your actions even when you're desperate.” He cracked open another beer and ended his thought, “You gave me no reason not to trust you. Truth is, we've been running for Lenny for a couple years and I don't want lose that. We need his money. I need his money. I want to go to medical school. I need this job. I don't want Lenny bringing in another crew, pushing mine out. So I may have moved a little fast with you. That's why I had to test you. This isn't just bullshit. We all have reasons... and maybe goals that will get us out of here. I really need an effective crew. I need you to work out."
Luke thought about that. It wasn't a one way street. That was good to know. He thought about the work he did, the tests he had passed. He thought about his mother. How many johns had hurt her… before she was finally murdered by one of them. But he couldn't go there right now. He had to come back to the moment at hand. “Everything’s a test.”
“You aren’t upset about this are you?”
Luke shook his head no and squinted sarcastically. “Are you fucking kidding me? I got a shower, my clothes cleaned, a great night’s sleep, and two good home cooked meals. Feel free to test me anytime.”
“Doing your laundry was a good way to keep you naked. But she cooked for you? Hmm. That's a first." Flick smiled.
Luke smiled back, but only to himself.
"This is my neighborhood, Luke. These are my friends. This is where I live. Lucy, Mitch - this is where I make my home. This is my life. The tests... it’s nothing personal. I just gotta be sure. I’m taking a big chance on you. I’m risking things here, you know?”
Luke looked at Flick with a good deal of sincerity. “I know.” Luke was risking things too. But the truth was, he had nothing to lose. Flick did. Flick had everything to lose.
Luke was tired, already eying his bed. It was almost too good to be true. Respectfully, he decided not to ask about the money situation. Honestly, he just wanted to sleep right now anyway.
“Go ahead, get some sleep. I have studying to do. And I'll probably be gone in the morning before you get up, if you sleep like Lucy says you sleep." He smiled a little. There were no secrets. Just things yet to be told.
Flick set his beer down and opened a kitchen drawer. He tossed a set of keys on the table in front of Luke along with a couple of bills. "Meet me here tomorrow around 5:00. Don’t be late for Lenny. If you have another night collecting for him the way you did tonight, we’ll take you shopping. I assume you need everything. Clothes, a good leather coat.”
“Thanks.” All things, in time.
Flick took a deep breath feeling as if his worries were over. His crew was safely in place again with Lenny DeFrancazo. "Just get some rest.”
***
End of Chapter 1
In the quiet of the railway station,
Running scared,
Laying low,
Seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go.”
-Simon & Garfunkel
Once in the apartment Flick put the pizza down and cracked himself open a beer. It was one room. One large room, with a kitchenette and an old steam radiator under the windows that faced the street. The table was cleared off and the chairs around it didn’t match. There were two beds. One had been slept in, one had not.
And one entire side of the room was a couch and coffee table, surrounded in stacks and stacks of books.
Luke walked in, a little wary.
“It’s not much, but it’s hard to get an apartment when you’re a minor.” Flick kicked his sneakers off and sat at the table.
Luke helped himself to a beer and said, “What’s with all the books?”
“I want to be a doctor.”
Somehow Luke was not surprised at that. The beer tasted good. The pizza, even more so. He looked around quietly. Coffee pot. Dirty coffee cups in the chipped sink. The closet door was opened. Jeans, sweatshirts, t-shirts. A couple of leather jackets, a couple pairs of old sneakers. There were 4 deadbolts on the door. Two baseball bats stood up against the corner behind the door. The side of the couch was ripped and stuffing was coming out. It looked like paradise.
Flick pointed to the made bed, “That’s where Nicky used to sleep. It’s yours if you want it.”
Luke looked at him feeling several things at once, from proud and defensive to grateful and tired. As he took a second slice of the pie he could see that his hands had stopped shaking. The discovery surprised him. He thought about Nicky and what might happen when he got out of jail. He thought about trust. He thought about being in deeper than he might want to be. He thought about his dead mother, and revenge. And he thought about leaving. And pride. And the cold cement. And dumpster diving. He looked at his hands. He looked at the door.
Flick watched as Luke's wheels turned. “Come on, Luke. Where are ya gonna go? The subway? The ferry? Where are you gonna sleep? It’s cold out there. Come on, just take the fucking bed.”
“I don’t know.”
“You earned your share of this month’s rent already.”
He had, hadn't he. This wasn't exactly a hand out. Luke nodded and took a seat at the table across from Flick. “If you’re sure.” Please be sure.
Flick took a huge mouth full of pizza and spoke through it, "I'm sure." He looked Luke over, swallowing. The pause wasn't uncomfortable, just noticeable. “You want to tell me your story?”
Luke sipped his beer. He sighed. He didn't want to blow this. It was working. And it was all he had. “No. Not yet. OK?”
Flick nodded. "OK. That's OK."
Luke let the quiet between them linger for a moment as he looked around the apartment again, noting that Flick was still attending high school and living here like this on his own. “You want to tell me yours?”
Flick shrugged. “Not yet.”
As he finished his final slice Luke sat back and said calmly, “You could have just asked me if I did drugs.” He hadn't planned on bringing it up. But he needed Flick to know that he wasn't clueless. Not anymore, anyway.
Flick sipped his beer and answered matter-of-factly, “If you did drugs, you wouldn’t be truthful.”
“Lucy’s done this test for you before?”
Flick nodded. "Many times. Most fail." He grinned and raised an eyebrow. “But most guys actually fuck her.”
Luke felt that shot. Did Flick think he was less of a man because he hadn’t done this girl like Flick had done his last night? Didn't he understand?
Flick could see Luke’s reaction and relented with a grin, “Hey, if it means anything to ya, I wasn’t with the other one.”
“No?”
“Nah, I was pretty much just listening at the wall. Last night was all about getting to know you." Flick sat with his legs spread as if even off guard and relaxed he was in perfect balance.
He continued, "Besides, Lucy’s my friend. I couldn’t just let you do what you wanted to her. I mean, I don’t know you yet. Some guys are really assholes. If you had hurt her, I would’ve come through that wall ready to kill you.”
Luke was wide eyed. “Was that part of the test too?”
Flick finished his beer. “There were a lot of tests. It was all a test. You were very respectful. You kept yourself in check. You showed me you are in control of your actions even when you're desperate.” He cracked open another beer and ended his thought, “You gave me no reason not to trust you. Truth is, we've been running for Lenny for a couple years and I don't want lose that. We need his money. I need his money. I want to go to medical school. I need this job. I don't want Lenny bringing in another crew, pushing mine out. So I may have moved a little fast with you. That's why I had to test you. This isn't just bullshit. We all have reasons... and maybe goals that will get us out of here. I really need an effective crew. I need you to work out."
Luke thought about that. It wasn't a one way street. That was good to know. He thought about the work he did, the tests he had passed. He thought about his mother. How many johns had hurt her… before she was finally murdered by one of them. But he couldn't go there right now. He had to come back to the moment at hand. “Everything’s a test.”
“You aren’t upset about this are you?”
Luke shook his head no and squinted sarcastically. “Are you fucking kidding me? I got a shower, my clothes cleaned, a great night’s sleep, and two good home cooked meals. Feel free to test me anytime.”
“Doing your laundry was a good way to keep you naked. But she cooked for you? Hmm. That's a first." Flick smiled.
Luke smiled back, but only to himself.
"This is my neighborhood, Luke. These are my friends. This is where I live. Lucy, Mitch - this is where I make my home. This is my life. The tests... it’s nothing personal. I just gotta be sure. I’m taking a big chance on you. I’m risking things here, you know?”
Luke looked at Flick with a good deal of sincerity. “I know.” Luke was risking things too. But the truth was, he had nothing to lose. Flick did. Flick had everything to lose.
Luke was tired, already eying his bed. It was almost too good to be true. Respectfully, he decided not to ask about the money situation. Honestly, he just wanted to sleep right now anyway.
“Go ahead, get some sleep. I have studying to do. And I'll probably be gone in the morning before you get up, if you sleep like Lucy says you sleep." He smiled a little. There were no secrets. Just things yet to be told.
Flick set his beer down and opened a kitchen drawer. He tossed a set of keys on the table in front of Luke along with a couple of bills. "Meet me here tomorrow around 5:00. Don’t be late for Lenny. If you have another night collecting for him the way you did tonight, we’ll take you shopping. I assume you need everything. Clothes, a good leather coat.”
“Thanks.” All things, in time.
Flick took a deep breath feeling as if his worries were over. His crew was safely in place again with Lenny DeFrancazo. "Just get some rest.”
***
End of Chapter 1
December 11, 2008
Chapter 1.4
Luke Manderelli looked revived as he met up with Flick on the corner at six sharp.
Flick introduced Mitch Monaghan and Adrian Viletti. Luke wanted to make a good impression in spite of Adrian's obvious attitude. He tried to joke about it. “How was that apple?”
Everyone else laughed. Adrian wasn't amused. “We could have handled that alone.”
“Oh I don’t doubt that. I was just trying to help.”
Flick smacked Adrian playfully in the back of the head and said to Luke, “Pay no attention to Viletti. Mine is the only opinion that matters. And I appreciate what you did. It was a great introduction.”
Mitch began walking, tugging at Luke's shirt to follow. “Come on. We don't want to be late. And I have to cut out early tonight – my band has a late practice.”
It wasn’t a surprise to hear Mitch had a band. He looked the most flamboyant of the threesome. He had a fancy haircut and tight jeans, and his leather jacket looked more like a showman’s piece than a biker coat. They cut across the street and into a pizzeria. Nodding to the guys at the counter, Flick opened the door to the side office.
Lenny DeFrancazo was a tall, slender man. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties or so, very fit. He had dark brown hair, shoulder length and wavy, worn pushed back and out of his eyes in a slick way. He stood up from behind his desk when the boys entered the room, and extended his hand to Luke.
“I’m Lenny DeFrancazo.” Lenny had an edge to his looks. He was what women would call handsome. He had piercing eyes, and a very overly defined jawline that resulted in a very large grin. He wore a black leather blazer, and black jeans. He looked obvious.
Luke shook Lenny's hand.
Flick picked up a small piece of paper. “Is this it for us?” Flick was already handing it to Mitch.
“For you three. Leave Luke behind with me for some protocol.”
Flick smacked Luke on the back. “I’ll meet you here tonight by midnight.”
Luke nodded watching them leave, repeating the time as the door closed. He was alone with Lenny, slightly uncomfortable but more than a little excited. This was his chance. It had to work. It had to.
Lenny moved himself to the front of the old beaten up pine desk and took a seat on its corner. Luke sat down as motioned to in the rickety chair. Lenny’s voice was deep and clear. “I don’t know what they told you about Nicky.”
“I don’t really know anything about Nicky.”
“He’s who you’re replacing. Another one of Flick’s boys. He’s doing a stretch at Ryker’s for possession.”
Luke nodded.
Lenny said quickly and sharply, “You don’t do drugs, right Luke?”
“Right.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
Lenny squinted as if suspicious, “I can’t be bothered with this shit again. Training you and losing you. Nicky did great work for me. Everybody liked him. Trusted him. And don't give me that shit about what he does on his own time is his own business. That's fucking bullshit. He's in jail. He's gone. That fucks my business. I’m behind on everything because of him. Do you know how hard it is to find someone to do this job correctly?”
Luke hesitated, not sure if he should comment or listen. It all felt rhetorical.
“I’m not going to lecture you, Luke. I just wanted a straight-ass answer. Flick says he’s tested you, and you’re OK. He said he gave you the drug test and you're clean. He’s willing to take a chance, so I will.” Lenny shrugged, rolling his eyes.
“Thanks.” Luke said, surprised and thinking.
“It would be so nice to have a doctor on the payroll. Piss-test all my employees.” He shook his head as if he was disgusted with the entire world.
Thinking about that last comment, Luke spoke softly, “Mr. DeFrancazo, what did you mean about a drug test. What test?”
Lenny paused. Flick was right: they never figure it out. There was no harm in telling him now. He grinned. It was a large, ear to ear slightly wicked grin utilizing all of his large jawline. “Flick hired a hooker last night to get a good look at you naked, to see if you have any hidden track marks. She said you're clean, she couldn't find any.”
So that was why they went to Lucy’s. Flick wasn't looking to unwind. He was conducting tests. Luke had slept so soundly he hadn't even realized Lucy was examining him. It made more sense now, her letting him shower and sleep in her bed. She was doing her job. Not that it mattered. He had nothing to hide. No hidden tracks under his toenails or in his genitals.
“Look Mr. DeFrancazo. I promise you, I don’t do drugs. I can’t afford to buy them. I can’t afford 8 months behind bars. I can’t afford to ever be off guard, or screwed up. I just can’t afford to be less than a hundred percent.”
Lenny handed him a piece of paper. “That’s what I want to hear. I can't impress this on you enough - don’t lie to me, Luke. I hate to be lied to. When you lie to somebody you are indirectly telling them you think they're stupid. I’m not stupid, kid. Don’t try me.”
Luke took the paper and read it over. It listed names, addresses, information. Dollar amounts.
Lenny proceeded to give Luke directions. He explained what he expected. How things worked. How things happened. Luke paid close attention.
“Everyone on that list is basically way behind. It’s the miracle list. You’re not exactly an enforcer yet. You’re a runner. You show up, you verify as much of the info as you can, gather what’s not there. If they see you, you throw a scare, see if you can get them to cough up whatever they have, leave it looking messy. Break shit. Smash windshields. But I don’t expect you to really hurt anyone. And everyone on that list, just for your information, is a gambler. Those are all funds to cover bets to bookies. These are real losers. Just remember that.”
Luke nodded and stood. Ready to go.
“Use my name. All over the place. Lenny DeFrancazo. I sent you. Don’t forget that. You may be one of Flick’s boys but on my time you represent me. You use my name. Got it?”
Luke nodded.
“Be back here by midnight.”
“What the hell is wrong with you tonight?
I can’t seem to say or do the right thing.”
-Joe Jackson
“Where the hell is he?” Lenny looked at his watch again, and then at Flick. The others had already gone home. It was after one in the morning. Luke was late.
Flick sat at the front of the desk. “Calm down, Lenny. He’ll be here.”
“Where does he live anyway?”
“I think he’s homeless.”
Lenny’s eyes flared. “Are you insane? You brought me a homeless person to collect large sums of money?!” Lenny turned away, losing his temper, trying to remain focused. “What were you thinking, Flick?! He’s gonna hit one good score and he’s gonna split with my money!”
“He won’t, you’ll see.” Flick rolled his eyes. He was never wrong. But for just a moment he began to think about what Lenny was saying. His tests last night were foolproof. He would know if the kid wasn’t trustable.
Lenny paced, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you did this to me. First you bring me Nicky, now this. What are you, working for Gary Scupelli behind my back? Are you trying to ruin me?!”
Flick stood quickly as he heard a noise at the door.
Luke was walking in pulling something out of his jacket pocket. Glancing up he realized he was being stared down. He froze looking toward Flick first. “What? What’s wrong?”
Lenny cleared his throat. “Nothing. You’re just a little late. That’s all.”
Luke looked embarrassed. He said quietly, “I don’t have a watch, Sir.” He reached his hand out to Lenny giving him what he had pulled from his pocket. He looked toward Flick and repeated, “I don’t have a watch. I'm sorry. I did it as fast as I could. But there were more than a few names on that list. One was halfway across town. I don't have cab money or anything.”
Lenny sat down at his desk with the bundle Luke handed him, counting the money against the small piece of paper.
Flick brushed something off of Luke's shoulder. “How did you do?”
Luke shrugged, “All right I guess.”
“All right you guess?” Lenny stood up. He looked at Flick. “All right he guesses.” He counted out some bills, and handed them to Flick, adding, “Your boy here just doubled what you, Mitch and Adrian did combined. And it’s his first night.”
Luke watched Flick pocket the money. So Flick got the percentage for all of them. Probably to be doled out accordingly. Luke's stomach tightened but he couldn’t say anything. He had to just let it ride and trust Flick for the moment. Everything was going so good.
Lenny was grinning. That ear to ear exaggerated jaw line grin. That grin, that would become a trademark in Luke's mind for many, many years to come.
Pleased, Lenny left after locking up and telling them to report to work on time tomorrow night.
“I’m hungry. How about we grab a pizza, and just go to my apartment. I’m beat.” Flick gestured to the pizza counter just outside of Lenny’s office.
Luke nodded. Pizza would be good. Money would have been better. But with any luck, all good things would come in time.
Flick introduced Mitch Monaghan and Adrian Viletti. Luke wanted to make a good impression in spite of Adrian's obvious attitude. He tried to joke about it. “How was that apple?”
Everyone else laughed. Adrian wasn't amused. “We could have handled that alone.”
“Oh I don’t doubt that. I was just trying to help.”
Flick smacked Adrian playfully in the back of the head and said to Luke, “Pay no attention to Viletti. Mine is the only opinion that matters. And I appreciate what you did. It was a great introduction.”
Mitch began walking, tugging at Luke's shirt to follow. “Come on. We don't want to be late. And I have to cut out early tonight – my band has a late practice.”
It wasn’t a surprise to hear Mitch had a band. He looked the most flamboyant of the threesome. He had a fancy haircut and tight jeans, and his leather jacket looked more like a showman’s piece than a biker coat. They cut across the street and into a pizzeria. Nodding to the guys at the counter, Flick opened the door to the side office.
Lenny DeFrancazo was a tall, slender man. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties or so, very fit. He had dark brown hair, shoulder length and wavy, worn pushed back and out of his eyes in a slick way. He stood up from behind his desk when the boys entered the room, and extended his hand to Luke.
“I’m Lenny DeFrancazo.” Lenny had an edge to his looks. He was what women would call handsome. He had piercing eyes, and a very overly defined jawline that resulted in a very large grin. He wore a black leather blazer, and black jeans. He looked obvious.
Luke shook Lenny's hand.
Flick picked up a small piece of paper. “Is this it for us?” Flick was already handing it to Mitch.
“For you three. Leave Luke behind with me for some protocol.”
Flick smacked Luke on the back. “I’ll meet you here tonight by midnight.”
Luke nodded watching them leave, repeating the time as the door closed. He was alone with Lenny, slightly uncomfortable but more than a little excited. This was his chance. It had to work. It had to.
Lenny moved himself to the front of the old beaten up pine desk and took a seat on its corner. Luke sat down as motioned to in the rickety chair. Lenny’s voice was deep and clear. “I don’t know what they told you about Nicky.”
“I don’t really know anything about Nicky.”
“He’s who you’re replacing. Another one of Flick’s boys. He’s doing a stretch at Ryker’s for possession.”
Luke nodded.
Lenny said quickly and sharply, “You don’t do drugs, right Luke?”
“Right.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
Lenny squinted as if suspicious, “I can’t be bothered with this shit again. Training you and losing you. Nicky did great work for me. Everybody liked him. Trusted him. And don't give me that shit about what he does on his own time is his own business. That's fucking bullshit. He's in jail. He's gone. That fucks my business. I’m behind on everything because of him. Do you know how hard it is to find someone to do this job correctly?”
Luke hesitated, not sure if he should comment or listen. It all felt rhetorical.
“I’m not going to lecture you, Luke. I just wanted a straight-ass answer. Flick says he’s tested you, and you’re OK. He said he gave you the drug test and you're clean. He’s willing to take a chance, so I will.” Lenny shrugged, rolling his eyes.
“Thanks.” Luke said, surprised and thinking.
“It would be so nice to have a doctor on the payroll. Piss-test all my employees.” He shook his head as if he was disgusted with the entire world.
Thinking about that last comment, Luke spoke softly, “Mr. DeFrancazo, what did you mean about a drug test. What test?”
Lenny paused. Flick was right: they never figure it out. There was no harm in telling him now. He grinned. It was a large, ear to ear slightly wicked grin utilizing all of his large jawline. “Flick hired a hooker last night to get a good look at you naked, to see if you have any hidden track marks. She said you're clean, she couldn't find any.”
So that was why they went to Lucy’s. Flick wasn't looking to unwind. He was conducting tests. Luke had slept so soundly he hadn't even realized Lucy was examining him. It made more sense now, her letting him shower and sleep in her bed. She was doing her job. Not that it mattered. He had nothing to hide. No hidden tracks under his toenails or in his genitals.
“Look Mr. DeFrancazo. I promise you, I don’t do drugs. I can’t afford to buy them. I can’t afford 8 months behind bars. I can’t afford to ever be off guard, or screwed up. I just can’t afford to be less than a hundred percent.”
Lenny handed him a piece of paper. “That’s what I want to hear. I can't impress this on you enough - don’t lie to me, Luke. I hate to be lied to. When you lie to somebody you are indirectly telling them you think they're stupid. I’m not stupid, kid. Don’t try me.”
Luke took the paper and read it over. It listed names, addresses, information. Dollar amounts.
Lenny proceeded to give Luke directions. He explained what he expected. How things worked. How things happened. Luke paid close attention.
“Everyone on that list is basically way behind. It’s the miracle list. You’re not exactly an enforcer yet. You’re a runner. You show up, you verify as much of the info as you can, gather what’s not there. If they see you, you throw a scare, see if you can get them to cough up whatever they have, leave it looking messy. Break shit. Smash windshields. But I don’t expect you to really hurt anyone. And everyone on that list, just for your information, is a gambler. Those are all funds to cover bets to bookies. These are real losers. Just remember that.”
Luke nodded and stood. Ready to go.
“Use my name. All over the place. Lenny DeFrancazo. I sent you. Don’t forget that. You may be one of Flick’s boys but on my time you represent me. You use my name. Got it?”
Luke nodded.
“Be back here by midnight.”
“What the hell is wrong with you tonight?
I can’t seem to say or do the right thing.”
-Joe Jackson
“Where the hell is he?” Lenny looked at his watch again, and then at Flick. The others had already gone home. It was after one in the morning. Luke was late.
Flick sat at the front of the desk. “Calm down, Lenny. He’ll be here.”
“Where does he live anyway?”
“I think he’s homeless.”
Lenny’s eyes flared. “Are you insane? You brought me a homeless person to collect large sums of money?!” Lenny turned away, losing his temper, trying to remain focused. “What were you thinking, Flick?! He’s gonna hit one good score and he’s gonna split with my money!”
“He won’t, you’ll see.” Flick rolled his eyes. He was never wrong. But for just a moment he began to think about what Lenny was saying. His tests last night were foolproof. He would know if the kid wasn’t trustable.
Lenny paced, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you did this to me. First you bring me Nicky, now this. What are you, working for Gary Scupelli behind my back? Are you trying to ruin me?!”
Flick stood quickly as he heard a noise at the door.
Luke was walking in pulling something out of his jacket pocket. Glancing up he realized he was being stared down. He froze looking toward Flick first. “What? What’s wrong?”
Lenny cleared his throat. “Nothing. You’re just a little late. That’s all.”
Luke looked embarrassed. He said quietly, “I don’t have a watch, Sir.” He reached his hand out to Lenny giving him what he had pulled from his pocket. He looked toward Flick and repeated, “I don’t have a watch. I'm sorry. I did it as fast as I could. But there were more than a few names on that list. One was halfway across town. I don't have cab money or anything.”
Lenny sat down at his desk with the bundle Luke handed him, counting the money against the small piece of paper.
Flick brushed something off of Luke's shoulder. “How did you do?”
Luke shrugged, “All right I guess.”
“All right you guess?” Lenny stood up. He looked at Flick. “All right he guesses.” He counted out some bills, and handed them to Flick, adding, “Your boy here just doubled what you, Mitch and Adrian did combined. And it’s his first night.”
Luke watched Flick pocket the money. So Flick got the percentage for all of them. Probably to be doled out accordingly. Luke's stomach tightened but he couldn’t say anything. He had to just let it ride and trust Flick for the moment. Everything was going so good.
Lenny was grinning. That ear to ear exaggerated jaw line grin. That grin, that would become a trademark in Luke's mind for many, many years to come.
Pleased, Lenny left after locking up and telling them to report to work on time tomorrow night.
“I’m hungry. How about we grab a pizza, and just go to my apartment. I’m beat.” Flick gestured to the pizza counter just outside of Lenny’s office.
Luke nodded. Pizza would be good. Money would have been better. But with any luck, all good things would come in time.
December 10, 2008
Chapter 1.3
The apartment was nice. Flick was already pulling Darla into her bedroom as Luke nervously looked around the living room. Standing with his hands in his pockets he looked at the floor, at the radio, and then turned his his back to the room and stared out the window. He couldn't look at Lucy sitting on the couch. Things were going so good with Flick. He couldn't blow it now. Flick was his one chance. His lifeline, and he knew it. If he fucked this up, he wasn't going to make it. But this was about the last place he wanted to be.
He was almost afraid to turn back around for a moment. He couldn't stop thinking about eating, and sleeping. Sex was the last thing on his mind. And even with that, he didn’t have a lot of experience. The little he had was already riddled with performance anxiety. Add to that hunger and exhaustion, stiff bones and sore muscles from sleeping on a cold concrete subway platform. And he was filthy. Oh yeah, this was going to go just great.
Summoning his courage he turned away from the window and faced her. She was studying him.
“What was your name again?” Lucy asked this young one.
“Luke.”
“Well, Luke, it looks like it’s just you and me.”
“Looks that way.” He had a curt tone in his voice, and realized it as soon as it came out.
She said, “You are welcome to leave if you have a problem. There’s the door.” She stood.
“Wait.” Luke was visibly nervous. “Please.” He looked at her, into her, feeling embarrassed and desperate. “I’m sorry.” He was so tired he had to make a conscious effort not to close his eyes.
She looked like she could be 30. Or maybe she'd just had some rough life that was showing as age. She had large eyes that seemed kind. Luke could feel her looking at him, and knew she was probably trying to figure out how to get out of sleeping with him. “I know, I’m really dirty. You don’t have to, you know, do anything. I understand. Whatever money Flick gave you is yours. I don't care. But can I just wait here for Flick? I have no place else to go.”
He felt vulnerable after saying it. Exposed and pathetic. But there it was. He was a little taken aback as she just got up and walked to the closet in the hall. He stood still waiting for a sign as to what to do.
Lucy pulled a couple of towels out. He was just a kid. And she had been there. She could still do what she had to do without his knowing. Besides, no matter what he had said, Flick seemed to have a good first impression of this kid. And Flick was rarely wrong.
She handed him the towels. “Shower's that way. Everything you need should be there – soap, shampoo, brush, toothpaste, ” She wriggled her nose and said “Deodorant.”
Thankyougodthankyougodthankyougod. Relieved, Luke took the towels.
“And give me your clothes. I’ll take 'em downstairs and throw them through the wash. You smell like you were crawling in and out of garbage cans.”
“Clean. The cleanest I’ve been.
Put an end to the tears
And the in-between years
And the troubles I’ve seen.
Now that I’m clean.”
-Depeche Mode
The door to Lucy's room was open. “Can I come in?” Luke held the ends of the towel around his waist together in his hand.
She set her book down and motioned toward a plate. “I made you some dinner. You looked like you could use it.”
Luke sat down at the foot of the bed quickly, his mouth watering. He didn't have to hear that twice. It had been so long since anything decent went into his stomach. He tried not to let her see his hands shaking as he ate. He spoke with his mouth full. “This is terrific, Lucy. Thank you. You could be a chef.”
“I love to cook. It's no big deal. And I must say you smell a lot better.” She sat up in the bed a little, leaning on her bended knees.
Luke nodded. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I haven’t had a place to shower in a long time.”
“Obviously.” She nodded.
He couldn’t help but smile a little. Curiously he said, “Why are you being so nice to me?”
She shrugged. “For Flick. And, you look alright. We all come from someplace, ya know? We all live here in the city.”
Luke finished his food. And then looked around unsure of what to do. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to bite you. You can sleep in here with me, but you gotta clear out in the morning when your clothes are dry.”
The thought of sleeping in the big warm soft bed was almost intoxicating. Luke dropped the towel to the floor and crawled in beside her completely forgetting to be self conscious. A bed. An actual bed, with sheets and pillows, and warmth. He could feel his body drop and his eyes water as he finally let them close. The exhaustion had passed painful. He was clean, he was fed. And he was sound asleep seconds after his head hit the pillow.
The smell of coffee woke Luke up. He sat up lost for a moment and then remembered where he was. He was alone in the bed and the sun was shining outside. Not brightly, like morning sun. More like the total even illumination a clean noon can give.
Luke wandered into the kitchen to find Lucy pouring coffee. “I see you found your clothes.”
Luke smiled. “I didn’t mean to sleep so long. I didn’t want to take advantage.”
“It’s OK.” She poured him coffee and pushed it to him at the table. He sat and wondered if he was the only one left.
“Flick left late last night. He had school today. He told me to tell you to meet him at 6:00 tonight, where you met last night. He says you’re going to work with him for Lenny.”
Luke nodded, sipping the coffee. “Ya think Flick made it to school?" He eyed the bagels and cream cheese she had pulled out of the fridge.
“He never misses. Never cuts. Help yourself.” As she put the food on the table he grabbed at it like a starving homeless person would. He was for real.
Luke was impressed by the comment regarding Flick. He couldn't even imagine. He ate fast, swallowing in large mouthfuls.
"Can you even taste the cream cheese eating that fast? I make it myself ya know."
He squinted at the bowl, "Really? Lucy this is fantastic." He took a second bagel hoping it would be alright. It seemed to be. Embarrassed he whispered, "I don't have any money to leave you toward the food, or anything. I'm sorry."
Lucy nodded. "Flick took care of me. Don't stress it."
She started to clean up. He could take a hint. “I’ll be out of here in no time.” He reached toward her arm as he stood. She stopped as he felt his hand gently pull on hers. His voice was soft. “I don’t know how to thank you. For everything.”
“What, I didn’t do anything.” She turned away. Flick would be pleased.
Luke finished his coffee thinking to himself that one day he would repay this debt.
He was almost afraid to turn back around for a moment. He couldn't stop thinking about eating, and sleeping. Sex was the last thing on his mind. And even with that, he didn’t have a lot of experience. The little he had was already riddled with performance anxiety. Add to that hunger and exhaustion, stiff bones and sore muscles from sleeping on a cold concrete subway platform. And he was filthy. Oh yeah, this was going to go just great.
Summoning his courage he turned away from the window and faced her. She was studying him.
“What was your name again?” Lucy asked this young one.
“Luke.”
“Well, Luke, it looks like it’s just you and me.”
“Looks that way.” He had a curt tone in his voice, and realized it as soon as it came out.
She said, “You are welcome to leave if you have a problem. There’s the door.” She stood.
“Wait.” Luke was visibly nervous. “Please.” He looked at her, into her, feeling embarrassed and desperate. “I’m sorry.” He was so tired he had to make a conscious effort not to close his eyes.
She looked like she could be 30. Or maybe she'd just had some rough life that was showing as age. She had large eyes that seemed kind. Luke could feel her looking at him, and knew she was probably trying to figure out how to get out of sleeping with him. “I know, I’m really dirty. You don’t have to, you know, do anything. I understand. Whatever money Flick gave you is yours. I don't care. But can I just wait here for Flick? I have no place else to go.”
He felt vulnerable after saying it. Exposed and pathetic. But there it was. He was a little taken aback as she just got up and walked to the closet in the hall. He stood still waiting for a sign as to what to do.
Lucy pulled a couple of towels out. He was just a kid. And she had been there. She could still do what she had to do without his knowing. Besides, no matter what he had said, Flick seemed to have a good first impression of this kid. And Flick was rarely wrong.
She handed him the towels. “Shower's that way. Everything you need should be there – soap, shampoo, brush, toothpaste, ” She wriggled her nose and said “Deodorant.”
Thankyougodthankyougodthankyougod. Relieved, Luke took the towels.
“And give me your clothes. I’ll take 'em downstairs and throw them through the wash. You smell like you were crawling in and out of garbage cans.”
“Clean. The cleanest I’ve been.
Put an end to the tears
And the in-between years
And the troubles I’ve seen.
Now that I’m clean.”
-Depeche Mode
The door to Lucy's room was open. “Can I come in?” Luke held the ends of the towel around his waist together in his hand.
She set her book down and motioned toward a plate. “I made you some dinner. You looked like you could use it.”
Luke sat down at the foot of the bed quickly, his mouth watering. He didn't have to hear that twice. It had been so long since anything decent went into his stomach. He tried not to let her see his hands shaking as he ate. He spoke with his mouth full. “This is terrific, Lucy. Thank you. You could be a chef.”
“I love to cook. It's no big deal. And I must say you smell a lot better.” She sat up in the bed a little, leaning on her bended knees.
Luke nodded. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I haven’t had a place to shower in a long time.”
“Obviously.” She nodded.
He couldn’t help but smile a little. Curiously he said, “Why are you being so nice to me?”
She shrugged. “For Flick. And, you look alright. We all come from someplace, ya know? We all live here in the city.”
Luke finished his food. And then looked around unsure of what to do. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to bite you. You can sleep in here with me, but you gotta clear out in the morning when your clothes are dry.”
The thought of sleeping in the big warm soft bed was almost intoxicating. Luke dropped the towel to the floor and crawled in beside her completely forgetting to be self conscious. A bed. An actual bed, with sheets and pillows, and warmth. He could feel his body drop and his eyes water as he finally let them close. The exhaustion had passed painful. He was clean, he was fed. And he was sound asleep seconds after his head hit the pillow.
The smell of coffee woke Luke up. He sat up lost for a moment and then remembered where he was. He was alone in the bed and the sun was shining outside. Not brightly, like morning sun. More like the total even illumination a clean noon can give.
Luke wandered into the kitchen to find Lucy pouring coffee. “I see you found your clothes.”
Luke smiled. “I didn’t mean to sleep so long. I didn’t want to take advantage.”
“It’s OK.” She poured him coffee and pushed it to him at the table. He sat and wondered if he was the only one left.
“Flick left late last night. He had school today. He told me to tell you to meet him at 6:00 tonight, where you met last night. He says you’re going to work with him for Lenny.”
Luke nodded, sipping the coffee. “Ya think Flick made it to school?" He eyed the bagels and cream cheese she had pulled out of the fridge.
“He never misses. Never cuts. Help yourself.” As she put the food on the table he grabbed at it like a starving homeless person would. He was for real.
Luke was impressed by the comment regarding Flick. He couldn't even imagine. He ate fast, swallowing in large mouthfuls.
"Can you even taste the cream cheese eating that fast? I make it myself ya know."
He squinted at the bowl, "Really? Lucy this is fantastic." He took a second bagel hoping it would be alright. It seemed to be. Embarrassed he whispered, "I don't have any money to leave you toward the food, or anything. I'm sorry."
Lucy nodded. "Flick took care of me. Don't stress it."
She started to clean up. He could take a hint. “I’ll be out of here in no time.” He reached toward her arm as he stood. She stopped as he felt his hand gently pull on hers. His voice was soft. “I don’t know how to thank you. For everything.”
“What, I didn’t do anything.” She turned away. Flick would be pleased.
Luke finished his coffee thinking to himself that one day he would repay this debt.
December 08, 2008
Chapter 1.2
“What the hell am I doing here?
I don’t belong here.”
-Radiohead
Flick looked at his watch, tired of listening to Adrian moan.
“We could have handled it. We didn’t need that little punk’s help.”
“Shut UP.” Flick finally glared at him. “Just shut up. It was your fault the whole thing happened.” Flick turned to Mitch and said, “With Nicky gone, we need another guy. Lenny keeps asking, when are we gonna pull our weight again. Well…”
Mitch nodded in agreement. “We’ve got nothing to lose. You sure you don’t want me to go with you?” They began to separate, Flick heading up the street, the rest of them turning toward the park.
“Nah, you got band practice. Besides, I think he’s going to be nervous enough. I don’t want to show up with an entourage.” He gestured toward Adrian with a nod of his head. "And just get him the hell away from me, would ya?"
Flick moved quickly. Silently. Alone. He could make out Luke, standing in the darkness. He was right on time.
Luke was nervous. He looked across the avenue. He began to think about this. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe –
“Hey.” Flick smacked him on the back.
Startled, Luke turned around to see him.
“ 'Shouldn’t stand with your back to a side street like that. I could’ve sunk a blade in your back long before you knew I was coming.” He began to walk.
Luke bowed his head. Oh yeah, this was going real well.
Flick extended his hand as he walked, “I’m Flick.”
“Luke. Luke Manderelli.”
“Where ya from?”
“South Bronx.” Luke pulled his jacket closed. “I've seen you and your gang around."
“It’s not a gang.” Flick waved to someone he knew and then added, “It’s an organization. And we appreciate your jumping in like that for us today.”
Luke shrugged, “I’m new here, I’m just trying to fit in, ya know?”
Flick nodded. He stopped walking at the corner and looked around. He stood fairly tall, blond and blue eyed. His flyaway bangs hung in his eyes. He wore a pair of jeans that fit, and good expensive running sneakers. Underneath his warm leather jacket he wore a pull over sweatshirt with a hood. He had an impressive appearance. He looked like he was in great shape, fairly attractive, and he looked like he belonged. He shifted his weight quickly from foot to foot as he stood, as if he could bolt in any direction at any time without an instant of hesitation.
He was eying Luke. Luke could feel it, and he felt weird about it. He was not his best, and he didn’t look like he would ever be his best again.
“We’re not a gang.”
“You said that.” Luke nodded.
“Well, if that’s what you are looking for, I don’t want to waste your time. More importantly I don’t want you wasting mine.”
Luke shrugged, “To tell you the truth, I don’t know what I’m looking for.”
Flick had a good feeling about the kid right away, “How fast can you run?”
“You saw.” Luke didn’t want to seem so pathetic. He began to think about responses that would snap and give him a little credit.
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen.” That was only a little lie.
Flick seemed intrigued, “Where do you live now?”
What was he going to say? Subway platform F? “I’m looking for a place.”
“Do you go to school?”
“Dropped out.”
“You can defend yourself?” Flick squinted.
“Yes.”
“Can you use a gun?”
“Yes.” Luke had never even held a gun.
Flick's rhythm slowed down and his voice dropped. “Ever kill anyone?”
Luke exhaled. Lying about his age was one thing. Lying about experience was another. “I wouldn’t hesitate if I really had to.”
Flick nodded. He had never killed anyone either, but he wanted to make sure Luke didn’t have some fast sharp answer for that. He didn’t want some psycho violent mental case running beside him for Lenny DeFrancazo. “You got a job?”
“No.”
“You want one?” Flick grinned.
Luke felt his skin moving on his cold arms. The overpowering hunger that trolled through him made him answer almost without the consent of his brain, “Yes.”
Flick nodded. “Well, I have a few tests for you then.”
Luke felt sick. What was he doing?
Flick studied the side street. Three separate women were visible. Each walking along alone in the cold darkness, minding their own business.
Flick looked at Luke and said, “You have to hit one of them, you have to come up with some cash fast.”
Luke blinked. He didn’t like this. He looked at them all, and finally said, “Now?”
“Now.”
“Why?”
“It’s just a test, Luke. We need a little cash for tonight and I want to see you in action.”
Luke didn’t like this at all. He didn’t like stealing, and he didn’t like proving himself. Part of his brain was telling him to just leave.
But to go where? For what? He was dying slowly out here. He was so tired and hungry. And cold. So cold. He looked away, up the street toward the sky. In a flash he thought of his uncle. Maybe those beatings weren’t so bad after all. He shook his head. That was ridiculous. The last one had almost killed him. He had to leave. And now, he had to take this chance. It was as if there were no alternatives.
He knew hesitance was probably part of the test. Quickly he knew which woman he'd take, and began to run for her. She was probably not the right one, but in Luke’s mind she was the only hit that would allow him to live with himself. His sneakers pounded the pavement in silent stalking strides. He connected his switchblade in the air and came up from behind the woman. She looked to be the wealthiest. He pulled the strap of her purse back about three inches with his finger and sliced the leather quickly. Freely it fell into his hands. He was several steps in front of her before she even realized what happened. He turned the corner at the avenue and waited in the alley as Flick caught up to him, the lady was yelling, sounding annoyed and angry. Not scared. Flick reached him in time to see him pulling the cash from the purse. In a gesture of trust he slapped it into Flick’s palm. Then he closed the purse and tossed it back around the corner, to the street where she was. Then he took off without a word, this time with Flick on his heels.
Flick ran with Luke into the park for a few minutes, until it was safe. Until they could slow down. Flick picked a small dark bench underneath the trees, a safe distance away from the scene of the crime.
Luke caught his breath. Flick wasn’t even winded.
“You're fast, moving and thinking. That’s good. And you blend in perfectly.” Flick unfolded the money in his fist.
Luke still looked annoyed. “You mind telling me what that was all about?”
Flick made himself comfortable and said, “In a second. The test is almost over. Why did you go for the rich one?”
Luke felt his stomach knot. He knew his reasons. Flick’s reasons were still a mystery. He could blow this by telling the truth. Flick could see the hesitation, so he pushed. “Come on. Why her?”
Luke shrugged, “I thought she’d have the most cash on her?”
“Nope. She’ll have more credit cards than cash. And you know that. Try again.”
“She can’t run after me in those fucking heels?”
Now it was Flick that looked annoyed. “She was the youngest and healthiest looking out of all of them. If one of them could have caught you, it would have been her. Hey, if you aren’t going to take this seriously-”
“Alright.” Luke looked pissed. He sat with a thud. Reluctant, and finished. He was either in or he wasn't. It had either worked, or it hadn't. He was going to be accepted, or he was going to die hungry and homeless. “Because she could take the hit. That one with the holes in her coat looks poor. She's probably as hungry as I am. I can't fuck with her. And the other one was old. She could have a heart attack on me or something. And her purse was so close to her body I'd have to hurt her just pulling it free. And I'm not doing that. I chose the rich one because her purse was easily accessible, and she looked young and healthy, and she’s wearing a fur and jewelry. She is not going hungry tonight because I took a few bucks from her. That’s why her. Are you satisfied?”
“Yes.” Flick grinned a little. That was pretty much what he had wanted to hear. “So what was the bit about giving the purse back?”
“You aren’t going to buy that I was dumping the evidence are you.”
Flick shook his head no, and allowed the slight grin to open into a smile.
“What do I want with pictures of her poodle? It’s just mean to keep it.”
Flick raised an eyebrow. “Interesting." He looked at the money in his hand. "Aren’t you worried about fingerprints?”
“Oh yeah. Like New York City cops have that kinda time, to take prints off a purse for a crime that’s perp description reads: Kid in dungarees and dungaree jacket, only seen from the back, with long brown hair. That will narrow it down to a million possible suspects. The cops won't care. Especially since no one was hurt. No way they’ll lift prints. And she knows that. If she even reports it.” Luke squinted at him.
“Nice touch, giving her bag back.” He looked around, to make sure they were still safe. Then he sat back down and said, “Me and my boys work for a loan shark. We chase down runners, do a little muscle, and a lot of leg. Right now we are down a man. We need another runner. Someone who can be trusted.”
Luke made a face. “You wanted to see me mug somebody to see if I can be trusted?”
Flick made a face back. “You look desperate. You look like you are not doing so great right now. And desperate people do desperate and greedy things. I can’t have you working with us if I think you’re greedy. If you collect a debt, I have to know it’s going back to Lenny DeFrancazo’s office, and not in your pocket. I have to know you aren’t going to squeeze more out of somebody than you’re told to. I have to know nothing on the side is going down, and I have to know that you don’t enjoy violence. Lenny says that's the whole key to doing this. The goal is to get the amount of money you are told to get. And as a last alternative, you may have to hurt someone to get it. If you enjoy the hurting part, it comes to fast, and the money never comes at all. It all gets too deep too fast. The fact that you looked reluctant was the best part. I don’t need a show off. And I don’t need a low life.”
Luke listened to every word. Every word. It all made sense. Maybe it was the hunger or the exhaustion. Or maybe it was the need to justify what he had done in his head. But he could at least understand the test now. “So I passed.”
“You passed.” Flick slapped him on the back. “I know something about you now. And you trusted me enough to do something you didn’t understand, and you did it quickly without question. I’m ready to give you a shot.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“What.”
Luke looked like he was calculating in his head. “What would you have done if I had gone after the old lady?”
Flick's voice was low and direct. He stared right into Luke as he answered, as if to make sure it was understood, without question. “I would have stopped you.”
Luke nodded, thinking how Flick had basically just passed his test too.
Flick shoved the money in his pocket. “Don’t beat yourself up about this. It was a test. An effective test and it got you a shot at the job. You were right about her: she isn’t going hungry, and she wasn’t hurt, and she even got her little purse back. She has a tale she will probably enjoy telling at cocktail parties. She will exaggerate what you took, and will probably have new jewelry and a new fur courtesy of her insurance company. Don’t worry about her, all right?”
Luke shrugged. “All right.” He liked that feeling, that Flick didn’t want him bothered. That Flick would look out for him. He wasn't used to anyone trying to make him feel OK.
“I’ll introduce you to DeFrancazo tomorrow. Tonight, lets take this cash and go celebrate your coming aboard.”
“Where are we going?”
“I’ve got a couple of friends. Working girls. So, we will need to leave a tip if you know what I mean.”
Sarcastically Luke said, “A tip? Nice touch.”
Flick laughed out loud, and lead the way.
I don’t belong here.”
-Radiohead
Flick looked at his watch, tired of listening to Adrian moan.
“We could have handled it. We didn’t need that little punk’s help.”
“Shut UP.” Flick finally glared at him. “Just shut up. It was your fault the whole thing happened.” Flick turned to Mitch and said, “With Nicky gone, we need another guy. Lenny keeps asking, when are we gonna pull our weight again. Well…”
Mitch nodded in agreement. “We’ve got nothing to lose. You sure you don’t want me to go with you?” They began to separate, Flick heading up the street, the rest of them turning toward the park.
“Nah, you got band practice. Besides, I think he’s going to be nervous enough. I don’t want to show up with an entourage.” He gestured toward Adrian with a nod of his head. "And just get him the hell away from me, would ya?"
Flick moved quickly. Silently. Alone. He could make out Luke, standing in the darkness. He was right on time.
Luke was nervous. He looked across the avenue. He began to think about this. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe –
“Hey.” Flick smacked him on the back.
Startled, Luke turned around to see him.
“ 'Shouldn’t stand with your back to a side street like that. I could’ve sunk a blade in your back long before you knew I was coming.” He began to walk.
Luke bowed his head. Oh yeah, this was going real well.
Flick extended his hand as he walked, “I’m Flick.”
“Luke. Luke Manderelli.”
“Where ya from?”
“South Bronx.” Luke pulled his jacket closed. “I've seen you and your gang around."
“It’s not a gang.” Flick waved to someone he knew and then added, “It’s an organization. And we appreciate your jumping in like that for us today.”
Luke shrugged, “I’m new here, I’m just trying to fit in, ya know?”
Flick nodded. He stopped walking at the corner and looked around. He stood fairly tall, blond and blue eyed. His flyaway bangs hung in his eyes. He wore a pair of jeans that fit, and good expensive running sneakers. Underneath his warm leather jacket he wore a pull over sweatshirt with a hood. He had an impressive appearance. He looked like he was in great shape, fairly attractive, and he looked like he belonged. He shifted his weight quickly from foot to foot as he stood, as if he could bolt in any direction at any time without an instant of hesitation.
He was eying Luke. Luke could feel it, and he felt weird about it. He was not his best, and he didn’t look like he would ever be his best again.
“We’re not a gang.”
“You said that.” Luke nodded.
“Well, if that’s what you are looking for, I don’t want to waste your time. More importantly I don’t want you wasting mine.”
Luke shrugged, “To tell you the truth, I don’t know what I’m looking for.”
Flick had a good feeling about the kid right away, “How fast can you run?”
“You saw.” Luke didn’t want to seem so pathetic. He began to think about responses that would snap and give him a little credit.
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen.” That was only a little lie.
Flick seemed intrigued, “Where do you live now?”
What was he going to say? Subway platform F? “I’m looking for a place.”
“Do you go to school?”
“Dropped out.”
“You can defend yourself?” Flick squinted.
“Yes.”
“Can you use a gun?”
“Yes.” Luke had never even held a gun.
Flick's rhythm slowed down and his voice dropped. “Ever kill anyone?”
Luke exhaled. Lying about his age was one thing. Lying about experience was another. “I wouldn’t hesitate if I really had to.”
Flick nodded. He had never killed anyone either, but he wanted to make sure Luke didn’t have some fast sharp answer for that. He didn’t want some psycho violent mental case running beside him for Lenny DeFrancazo. “You got a job?”
“No.”
“You want one?” Flick grinned.
Luke felt his skin moving on his cold arms. The overpowering hunger that trolled through him made him answer almost without the consent of his brain, “Yes.”
Flick nodded. “Well, I have a few tests for you then.”
Luke felt sick. What was he doing?
Flick studied the side street. Three separate women were visible. Each walking along alone in the cold darkness, minding their own business.
Flick looked at Luke and said, “You have to hit one of them, you have to come up with some cash fast.”
Luke blinked. He didn’t like this. He looked at them all, and finally said, “Now?”
“Now.”
“Why?”
“It’s just a test, Luke. We need a little cash for tonight and I want to see you in action.”
Luke didn’t like this at all. He didn’t like stealing, and he didn’t like proving himself. Part of his brain was telling him to just leave.
But to go where? For what? He was dying slowly out here. He was so tired and hungry. And cold. So cold. He looked away, up the street toward the sky. In a flash he thought of his uncle. Maybe those beatings weren’t so bad after all. He shook his head. That was ridiculous. The last one had almost killed him. He had to leave. And now, he had to take this chance. It was as if there were no alternatives.
He knew hesitance was probably part of the test. Quickly he knew which woman he'd take, and began to run for her. She was probably not the right one, but in Luke’s mind she was the only hit that would allow him to live with himself. His sneakers pounded the pavement in silent stalking strides. He connected his switchblade in the air and came up from behind the woman. She looked to be the wealthiest. He pulled the strap of her purse back about three inches with his finger and sliced the leather quickly. Freely it fell into his hands. He was several steps in front of her before she even realized what happened. He turned the corner at the avenue and waited in the alley as Flick caught up to him, the lady was yelling, sounding annoyed and angry. Not scared. Flick reached him in time to see him pulling the cash from the purse. In a gesture of trust he slapped it into Flick’s palm. Then he closed the purse and tossed it back around the corner, to the street where she was. Then he took off without a word, this time with Flick on his heels.
Flick ran with Luke into the park for a few minutes, until it was safe. Until they could slow down. Flick picked a small dark bench underneath the trees, a safe distance away from the scene of the crime.
Luke caught his breath. Flick wasn’t even winded.
“You're fast, moving and thinking. That’s good. And you blend in perfectly.” Flick unfolded the money in his fist.
Luke still looked annoyed. “You mind telling me what that was all about?”
Flick made himself comfortable and said, “In a second. The test is almost over. Why did you go for the rich one?”
Luke felt his stomach knot. He knew his reasons. Flick’s reasons were still a mystery. He could blow this by telling the truth. Flick could see the hesitation, so he pushed. “Come on. Why her?”
Luke shrugged, “I thought she’d have the most cash on her?”
“Nope. She’ll have more credit cards than cash. And you know that. Try again.”
“She can’t run after me in those fucking heels?”
Now it was Flick that looked annoyed. “She was the youngest and healthiest looking out of all of them. If one of them could have caught you, it would have been her. Hey, if you aren’t going to take this seriously-”
“Alright.” Luke looked pissed. He sat with a thud. Reluctant, and finished. He was either in or he wasn't. It had either worked, or it hadn't. He was going to be accepted, or he was going to die hungry and homeless. “Because she could take the hit. That one with the holes in her coat looks poor. She's probably as hungry as I am. I can't fuck with her. And the other one was old. She could have a heart attack on me or something. And her purse was so close to her body I'd have to hurt her just pulling it free. And I'm not doing that. I chose the rich one because her purse was easily accessible, and she looked young and healthy, and she’s wearing a fur and jewelry. She is not going hungry tonight because I took a few bucks from her. That’s why her. Are you satisfied?”
“Yes.” Flick grinned a little. That was pretty much what he had wanted to hear. “So what was the bit about giving the purse back?”
“You aren’t going to buy that I was dumping the evidence are you.”
Flick shook his head no, and allowed the slight grin to open into a smile.
“What do I want with pictures of her poodle? It’s just mean to keep it.”
Flick raised an eyebrow. “Interesting." He looked at the money in his hand. "Aren’t you worried about fingerprints?”
“Oh yeah. Like New York City cops have that kinda time, to take prints off a purse for a crime that’s perp description reads: Kid in dungarees and dungaree jacket, only seen from the back, with long brown hair. That will narrow it down to a million possible suspects. The cops won't care. Especially since no one was hurt. No way they’ll lift prints. And she knows that. If she even reports it.” Luke squinted at him.
“Nice touch, giving her bag back.” He looked around, to make sure they were still safe. Then he sat back down and said, “Me and my boys work for a loan shark. We chase down runners, do a little muscle, and a lot of leg. Right now we are down a man. We need another runner. Someone who can be trusted.”
Luke made a face. “You wanted to see me mug somebody to see if I can be trusted?”
Flick made a face back. “You look desperate. You look like you are not doing so great right now. And desperate people do desperate and greedy things. I can’t have you working with us if I think you’re greedy. If you collect a debt, I have to know it’s going back to Lenny DeFrancazo’s office, and not in your pocket. I have to know you aren’t going to squeeze more out of somebody than you’re told to. I have to know nothing on the side is going down, and I have to know that you don’t enjoy violence. Lenny says that's the whole key to doing this. The goal is to get the amount of money you are told to get. And as a last alternative, you may have to hurt someone to get it. If you enjoy the hurting part, it comes to fast, and the money never comes at all. It all gets too deep too fast. The fact that you looked reluctant was the best part. I don’t need a show off. And I don’t need a low life.”
Luke listened to every word. Every word. It all made sense. Maybe it was the hunger or the exhaustion. Or maybe it was the need to justify what he had done in his head. But he could at least understand the test now. “So I passed.”
“You passed.” Flick slapped him on the back. “I know something about you now. And you trusted me enough to do something you didn’t understand, and you did it quickly without question. I’m ready to give you a shot.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“What.”
Luke looked like he was calculating in his head. “What would you have done if I had gone after the old lady?”
Flick's voice was low and direct. He stared right into Luke as he answered, as if to make sure it was understood, without question. “I would have stopped you.”
Luke nodded, thinking how Flick had basically just passed his test too.
Flick shoved the money in his pocket. “Don’t beat yourself up about this. It was a test. An effective test and it got you a shot at the job. You were right about her: she isn’t going hungry, and she wasn’t hurt, and she even got her little purse back. She has a tale she will probably enjoy telling at cocktail parties. She will exaggerate what you took, and will probably have new jewelry and a new fur courtesy of her insurance company. Don’t worry about her, all right?”
Luke shrugged. “All right.” He liked that feeling, that Flick didn’t want him bothered. That Flick would look out for him. He wasn't used to anyone trying to make him feel OK.
“I’ll introduce you to DeFrancazo tomorrow. Tonight, lets take this cash and go celebrate your coming aboard.”
“Where are we going?”
“I’ve got a couple of friends. Working girls. So, we will need to leave a tip if you know what I mean.”
Sarcastically Luke said, “A tip? Nice touch.”
Flick laughed out loud, and lead the way.
Chapter 1.1
CHAPTER 1
"We all live in the city"
-Jim Morrison
3 Years Earlier
Luke Manderelli turned his back against a gust of wind letting it break against his sore shoulders. Sleeping on the hard, cold concrete ground in the subway station was taking its toll on him. He was 16 years old. And Manhattan was big, and hard. He had runaway almost 3 weeks ago in search of another New York. That last beating being the deciding factor.
He didn't know much, but he knew he was originally from this part of the city. He had some sort of recollection of it. Some little bit of recall. He could remember the park and the shape of the buildings around it. He had returned here by instinct. He had lived here with his mother. He was sure of it. There wasn’t much to the memories other than the feelings they could still stir. She was pretty, she was slender. He could almost remember what she looked like. All the moments that took place before that one awful night were merely a blur now.
Looking up past the buildings and the smoke stacks he tried to assess the time by the sky. It was just before dawn. The city was as quiet and still as this city would ever be. Bakery trucks, newspaper deliveries. Coffee. He rested one hand on his stomach as it began to growl. He climbed into a dumpster behind a good restaurant on Columbus Avenue, and ducked his head down. The stench was almost unbearable as he carefully dug through the garbage, his hands shaking from the hunger. Humiliated, he finally found something he could put in his stomach to live another day.
He knew better than to go to any of the soup kitchens. He looked his age and couldn’t risk winding up in social services. Teenage runaways were staked out in places like that. He had already tried some churches, and that one shelter in the Bowery. But he was too much of a target, too alone and too young. He was mugged for his coat at one place, nearly raped in another. It was December outside as well as inside. He couldn’t make those mistakes again.
Jumping down from the garbage, he made his way out of the alley, and brushed himself off. The avenue was beginning to mill with commuters. In less than an hour these streets would be filled with life, including gangs making their way to schoolyards. One in particular, one small band of teenagers with black leather jackets were usually right around this area, right around this time.
And there they were.
Luke had noticed them notice him. As uneasy as he felt, he had nowhere to go. He had nothing to lose. It had been weeks since he had eaten a good meal, or taken a bath, or slept for three consecutive hours. He was on the edge. He had to make something happen.
Mitch Monaghan shoved his cold hands into his warm coat pockets, and stared across the street. Flick stood facing him, his back to the object of attention and calmly said, “He’s there again, huh.”
“He’s there.”
Adrian Viletti helped himself to an apple from the fruit stand in front of the store, just as a delivery truck pulled up and began to prepare to unload some large boxes to the bodega. Adrian’s voice was high pitched. “I think he’s a narc.”
Flick rolled his eyes. “He’s not a narc.” He turned to see the kid. He was looking right back at them.
Adrian snapped. “Then he’s with a gang. He’s staking us out for some gang.”
“Will you stop it?” Flick looked annoyed. “He’s not with a gang. He’s wearing a dungaree jacket, and he looks like he’s freezing. If he were with a gang, he would have colors. At least a coat.”
Adrian barked again. “Maybe he’s a lunatic. It is New York you know.”
Flick looked at Mitch, “What do you think?”
Mitch looked across the morning street around the delivery truck at the kid with compassion. “He looks to me like just some kid with no place to go.”
“What do you think he wants?”
Mitch shrugged. “Some place to go?”
Adrian was helping himself to a second apple from the stand as he said, “Why don’t I just go over there and -”
Adrian’s words were cut short as the owner of the bodega grabbed him by the arm and yelled, “You gonna pay for any of that breakfast?! Huh?!”
It happened quickly, a police officer walking past, the owner of the store, Adrian in the man’s grip with the evidence still in his mouth and hands. Flick and Mitch caught by surprise, and the delivery truck blocking the avenue from all of their view.
Luke felt his heart race as he chose his moment and moved to the boxes of paper cups and paper towels stacked in the street obscuring him from view. He knew this was a stupid move. But it would be a memorable introduction.
Without anymore thinking, Luke pushed the boxes as hard as he could. The stack tumbled onto the driver, who fell onto the owner of the store. As the tumbling boxes caught everyone off guard the street became amuck with fleeing youth. Adrian bolted in one direction taking his cue. Mitch flew in the opposite one. Luke stood for a brief second before Flick, who made eye contact and grinned. Luke stared back, but they didn’t have time. Flick nodded his head toward the side street and took off, Luke hot on his heels. Flick noticed that the police officer had gone after Adrian, but the storeowner was following Flick and Luke.
He yelled to Luke as they ran, “Meet me on this corner at ten tonight.”
He cut off in a separate direction as Luke hollered back, “I’ll be there!” and dove head first into the traffic of the avenue. After dodging a few vehicles he turned to see the owner of the bodega, looking around, yelling. Luke was on the other side of the avenue, sage from the havoc. He had escaped. But the rush of adrenaline compelled him to keep running. He tore down the avenue and cut across the park.
Tonight would be the difference. He would either make it in the city, or not. And tonight would let him know which one it would be.
"We all live in the city"
-Jim Morrison
3 Years Earlier
Luke Manderelli turned his back against a gust of wind letting it break against his sore shoulders. Sleeping on the hard, cold concrete ground in the subway station was taking its toll on him. He was 16 years old. And Manhattan was big, and hard. He had runaway almost 3 weeks ago in search of another New York. That last beating being the deciding factor.
He didn't know much, but he knew he was originally from this part of the city. He had some sort of recollection of it. Some little bit of recall. He could remember the park and the shape of the buildings around it. He had returned here by instinct. He had lived here with his mother. He was sure of it. There wasn’t much to the memories other than the feelings they could still stir. She was pretty, she was slender. He could almost remember what she looked like. All the moments that took place before that one awful night were merely a blur now.
Looking up past the buildings and the smoke stacks he tried to assess the time by the sky. It was just before dawn. The city was as quiet and still as this city would ever be. Bakery trucks, newspaper deliveries. Coffee. He rested one hand on his stomach as it began to growl. He climbed into a dumpster behind a good restaurant on Columbus Avenue, and ducked his head down. The stench was almost unbearable as he carefully dug through the garbage, his hands shaking from the hunger. Humiliated, he finally found something he could put in his stomach to live another day.
He knew better than to go to any of the soup kitchens. He looked his age and couldn’t risk winding up in social services. Teenage runaways were staked out in places like that. He had already tried some churches, and that one shelter in the Bowery. But he was too much of a target, too alone and too young. He was mugged for his coat at one place, nearly raped in another. It was December outside as well as inside. He couldn’t make those mistakes again.
Jumping down from the garbage, he made his way out of the alley, and brushed himself off. The avenue was beginning to mill with commuters. In less than an hour these streets would be filled with life, including gangs making their way to schoolyards. One in particular, one small band of teenagers with black leather jackets were usually right around this area, right around this time.
And there they were.
Luke had noticed them notice him. As uneasy as he felt, he had nowhere to go. He had nothing to lose. It had been weeks since he had eaten a good meal, or taken a bath, or slept for three consecutive hours. He was on the edge. He had to make something happen.
Mitch Monaghan shoved his cold hands into his warm coat pockets, and stared across the street. Flick stood facing him, his back to the object of attention and calmly said, “He’s there again, huh.”
“He’s there.”
Adrian Viletti helped himself to an apple from the fruit stand in front of the store, just as a delivery truck pulled up and began to prepare to unload some large boxes to the bodega. Adrian’s voice was high pitched. “I think he’s a narc.”
Flick rolled his eyes. “He’s not a narc.” He turned to see the kid. He was looking right back at them.
Adrian snapped. “Then he’s with a gang. He’s staking us out for some gang.”
“Will you stop it?” Flick looked annoyed. “He’s not with a gang. He’s wearing a dungaree jacket, and he looks like he’s freezing. If he were with a gang, he would have colors. At least a coat.”
Adrian barked again. “Maybe he’s a lunatic. It is New York you know.”
Flick looked at Mitch, “What do you think?”
Mitch looked across the morning street around the delivery truck at the kid with compassion. “He looks to me like just some kid with no place to go.”
“What do you think he wants?”
Mitch shrugged. “Some place to go?”
Adrian was helping himself to a second apple from the stand as he said, “Why don’t I just go over there and -”
Adrian’s words were cut short as the owner of the bodega grabbed him by the arm and yelled, “You gonna pay for any of that breakfast?! Huh?!”
It happened quickly, a police officer walking past, the owner of the store, Adrian in the man’s grip with the evidence still in his mouth and hands. Flick and Mitch caught by surprise, and the delivery truck blocking the avenue from all of their view.
Luke felt his heart race as he chose his moment and moved to the boxes of paper cups and paper towels stacked in the street obscuring him from view. He knew this was a stupid move. But it would be a memorable introduction.
Without anymore thinking, Luke pushed the boxes as hard as he could. The stack tumbled onto the driver, who fell onto the owner of the store. As the tumbling boxes caught everyone off guard the street became amuck with fleeing youth. Adrian bolted in one direction taking his cue. Mitch flew in the opposite one. Luke stood for a brief second before Flick, who made eye contact and grinned. Luke stared back, but they didn’t have time. Flick nodded his head toward the side street and took off, Luke hot on his heels. Flick noticed that the police officer had gone after Adrian, but the storeowner was following Flick and Luke.
He yelled to Luke as they ran, “Meet me on this corner at ten tonight.”
He cut off in a separate direction as Luke hollered back, “I’ll be there!” and dove head first into the traffic of the avenue. After dodging a few vehicles he turned to see the owner of the bodega, looking around, yelling. Luke was on the other side of the avenue, sage from the havoc. He had escaped. But the rush of adrenaline compelled him to keep running. He tore down the avenue and cut across the park.
Tonight would be the difference. He would either make it in the city, or not. And tonight would let him know which one it would be.
December 01, 2008
The Bean Man
I looked through his things. I went through his nightstand and his clothes. And his massive collection of arms. And it felt as if no one had ever lived there at all. It was detached and elusive. It was odd some of the things he had saved. Almost random, but you want to think that there was reasoning behind the choices. You know what I mean? You just want to believe he had reasons.
Guitar picks and a piece of red rug the pope walked on at the airport. Bits of broken jewelry. Momentos of a faith he never practiced. Silver dollars. And this little Shrinky Dink deer I made and must have given him circa 1971. Of all things, he saved that.
He judged, and ridiculed, and hollered. Nothing I did was right. Nothing I said, nothing I was. And before he could make me into that nothing, at 17 I left home. And then I came back at 29 because he was dying.
Was it a progressive illness? Was it growing worse and worse with each passing year? Had he spent endless hours making ethereal cancers that eventually manifested? Was he ever happy at all? Did any one or any thing even for one moment of his 53 years of life make him proud or touched or humbled or pleased? In any way? At all?
He was an emotional wrecking ball: always able to cause damage beyond repair at the drop of a hat. I could list the people, lives he affected, crushed, canceled, ruined. He was venomous. And he destroyed alot of dreams. And a lot of hearts.
But He used to draw these little bean men. It may be one of the only good things I can remember about him. It may be one of the only good things anyone knows about him at all. That he drew these little men with bean heads and wavy mouths and little hands, that looked alone and scared.
He didn't say his good-byes though he had his chances. He knew I was there, along with his wife. And people visited. The few people that cared, came. His father from Florida, his sister, his one friend. And he treated them as coldly as he always had. He didn't try, or reach, or change anything. He just left. In a way it's as if he didn't believe it himself, as if he thought he was coming right back, as if the coffee pot was still on.
In my head I'm playing with this band I can't find. I'm singing songs I never wrote and I'm making sense out of something that will never make any sense. And I don't know how I got all alone in here, or how I'm singing this song.
I remember walking through his garage to gather up and sell his tools. I remember feeling like he was letting go. I remember the smallness, the sadness, the abandonment.
He had a way of making everyone shrink. Like the Shrinky Dink. Like a little Bean Man in a song I'm not singing. And then all of a sudden it was over.
I don't know what happened. I lived it for 30 years, and I wrote about it, and I left it. But I don't have any fucking idea what the hell happened.
He came to me in a dream a few months after he died. It was exhausting. And the only thing of meaning he said to me was not to forgive him.
I think he was sick for a very long time. I think it started in his head as a child. I think that may be the only thing that makes sense. Or maybe I just want it to be that way. Because all alternatives are just too deadly and eliminating.
He left nothing. He said nothing. It is as if it never happened. But it did, and it was hard. Repressible. Regrettable. In general, most of the memories are of fights. Screaming, yelling, angry, wall-punching fights. And then they are all about insignificance. Of how he failed, and became smaller and smaller. Like the one drawing of a sad little bean man that I saved. Like that tiny Bambi in his nightstand.
What I wouldn't give to know the truth behind the preservation of the Shrinky Dink.
Guitar picks and a piece of red rug the pope walked on at the airport. Bits of broken jewelry. Momentos of a faith he never practiced. Silver dollars. And this little Shrinky Dink deer I made and must have given him circa 1971. Of all things, he saved that.
He judged, and ridiculed, and hollered. Nothing I did was right. Nothing I said, nothing I was. And before he could make me into that nothing, at 17 I left home. And then I came back at 29 because he was dying.
Was it a progressive illness? Was it growing worse and worse with each passing year? Had he spent endless hours making ethereal cancers that eventually manifested? Was he ever happy at all? Did any one or any thing even for one moment of his 53 years of life make him proud or touched or humbled or pleased? In any way? At all?
He was an emotional wrecking ball: always able to cause damage beyond repair at the drop of a hat. I could list the people, lives he affected, crushed, canceled, ruined. He was venomous. And he destroyed alot of dreams. And a lot of hearts.
But He used to draw these little bean men. It may be one of the only good things I can remember about him. It may be one of the only good things anyone knows about him at all. That he drew these little men with bean heads and wavy mouths and little hands, that looked alone and scared.
He didn't say his good-byes though he had his chances. He knew I was there, along with his wife. And people visited. The few people that cared, came. His father from Florida, his sister, his one friend. And he treated them as coldly as he always had. He didn't try, or reach, or change anything. He just left. In a way it's as if he didn't believe it himself, as if he thought he was coming right back, as if the coffee pot was still on.
In my head I'm playing with this band I can't find. I'm singing songs I never wrote and I'm making sense out of something that will never make any sense. And I don't know how I got all alone in here, or how I'm singing this song.
I remember walking through his garage to gather up and sell his tools. I remember feeling like he was letting go. I remember the smallness, the sadness, the abandonment.
He had a way of making everyone shrink. Like the Shrinky Dink. Like a little Bean Man in a song I'm not singing. And then all of a sudden it was over.
I don't know what happened. I lived it for 30 years, and I wrote about it, and I left it. But I don't have any fucking idea what the hell happened.
He came to me in a dream a few months after he died. It was exhausting. And the only thing of meaning he said to me was not to forgive him.
I think he was sick for a very long time. I think it started in his head as a child. I think that may be the only thing that makes sense. Or maybe I just want it to be that way. Because all alternatives are just too deadly and eliminating.
He left nothing. He said nothing. It is as if it never happened. But it did, and it was hard. Repressible. Regrettable. In general, most of the memories are of fights. Screaming, yelling, angry, wall-punching fights. And then they are all about insignificance. Of how he failed, and became smaller and smaller. Like the one drawing of a sad little bean man that I saved. Like that tiny Bambi in his nightstand.
What I wouldn't give to know the truth behind the preservation of the Shrinky Dink.
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