Sev says, “You want any pancakes?”
Two days and what seems like 400 stacks of pancakes later, we move from the Executive Diner in Elmont to the All-Star Diner in Rosedale. When I think the tension can’t get any worse, I get a call on my cell phone. The caller ID says Rocky. She’s not supposed to call, but still I can’t help but appreciate that she does. I open the cell and say, “Hey, baby.”
A deep male voice on the other end of the line says, “Fuck you, asshole.”
Stunned, I stammer, “Who ... who’s this?”
“Never mind who this is. Get your ass up and excuse yourself from wherever you are if you want to see this bitch alive. Be very careful, college boy. Rocky never got your text to get out of Dodge. That was me who texted you on her phone. Now get up and move. If anyone hears this conversation, I’ll chop her up like an onion.”
That cocksucker Bino has Rocky. I excuse myself and because of Bino’s threat, tell Sev that my ex-girlfriend is calling again.
He rolls his eyes and pours some syrup on the latest stack. I walk outside the diner and say into the phone, “Bino you are so fucked up. You have no idea how bad this is going to turn out.”
“Shut the fuck up before I start dick-whipping her. You did this, not me. You’re the one ruining everything. What did ya think? That we’re just going to sit here?”
“Bino, be smart. No one’s looking for you. You can fly under the radar and get a good chunk of what’s around after the dust settles.”
“Fuck you, Davenport. How ‘bout this for a deal? You get your ass over to Kosher World by 9 p.m. Alone. Right now, no one has touched this bitch, but if we even think you told someone about this meeting, I’ll ram my dick up her ass so far she’ll be coughing up my balls. How’s that sound?”
“Bino, I’ll come meet you. I won’t tell anyone I’m coming, but if you do anything to her, I will smother you in pain before I kill you.”
“Hey, asshole, did you forget who’s holding the cards now?”
“Let me speak to her.”
“Sure. You’re hoping I just stole her cell phone and she’s at home watching Oprah. Yeah, I got her cell phone and the rest of the package. I got all the buttons here I could ever dream of pushing.”
Rocky’s choked-up voice comes through. “Kevin?”
I try to maintain my cool; I don’t want to spook her any more than necessary. “Baby, are you okay? Did they do anything to you?”
“No, not yet, but they keep threatening.”
Bino grabs the phone back and says, “That’s enough. You better get your ass over here tonight and don’t fuck around.”
“Where am I meeting you?”
“The Tongue Room. One more thing. Call the fucking phone company and have all your calls forwarded to Rocky’s cell phone. I don’t want anyone getting hold of you. If you’re not here by nine, she’s my sex slave.” Bino hangs up.
My head goes fuzzy. Panic overwhelms me. Anything but this. Rocky is the only thing that matters. How can this be happening? What do I do? I’ll do the same to them. I’ll grab Balducci’s kid Richie. I’ll fuck him up. I’ll grab Balducci’s wife. Yeah, I’ll fuckin’ grab both of them. Shit, shit, SHIT! That’s not going to work. There’s no way Balducci didn’t think of that. Dealing with all that crap in Queens, I never thought he would make a connection to Rocky way up in Albany. Anyone that matters to Balducci will be out of reach. I should have been smarter. Damn, my head’s so fuzzy. I’ve never felt this kind of anxiety before.
I can’t lose Rocky; she’s everything to me. I wish I could call this whole thing off now. I’ll do anything to get Rocky back.
I have to meet these guys alone. I can’t tell Sev or Curtis; they’re not going to stop the Industrial Road takeover because of Rocky. It’s too far along. Balducci needs me so he can figure out what he’s dealing with. Then he’ll kill me. As long as I can get Rocky out, I can live with that trade. I never thought I would ever feel this way. Stopping Balducci meant everything until I was confronted with losing Rocky. I believed I would risk everything and accept all the consequences. But I can’t.
The Kosher World lights are low and my footsteps echo as I walk. There was never an opportunity to hear an echo before. The place used to run 24/7, pumping out hot dogs, corned beef and pastrami at warp speed. Now there are no machines grinding, no orders being bellowed and no loud, lame excuses being offered. It feels more like a museum than the hectic factory I had once known.
Every step I take toward the Tongue Room is scarier than the last. I feel like at any time, or at any moment, I’ll take a bat to the skull or a meat pick to the heart. Balducci has thugs at the entrances, but nothing inside so far. I can only speculate that he wants as few witnesses as possible. I have no regrets about coming here alone. Sev’s head is different now; he and Curtis are all military. They are in a different country, fighting a corrupt government. If Rocky is killed, they will view her death as nothing more than unfortunate collateral damage.
I pass the pastrami room and, although I’m trying to be cool and calm, my sneakers screech against the black-and-white tile floor. The lights are on in the Tongue Room. I walk slowly, waiting for something to happen, but they seem to be letting me get closer. Two dudes wearing black pants and black shirts flank the Tongue Room door. My breathing feels weird. I need to stay cool if I’ve got any shot here.
The two guys stiffen. I recognize one of them as Butch Bombart, the first guy I beat in the Industrial Road bouts. Great, I’m sure he’ll be a load of laughs. They motion for me to stop. Butch frisks me. Nothing in my pockets or sides, but unfortunately he notices the knife I had desperately tucked into my sock.
Inside the room, Bombart shows the knife to Balducci. Balducci is stone-faced. He shakes his head in disappointment. He steps to the side and reveals Rocky. She isn’t tied up, but Bino has a gun to her head. Rocky’s eyes are bloodshot, as red as her auburn hair. She’s been crying non-stop, that much is clear, and it’s breaking my heart.
I have a gut-wrenching flash of insight: Rocky’s not the bait; I am. Rocky is merely the bait to get the bait. I was thinking Balducci was going to pump me for information and then kill me. Now I’ve changed my mind. For some reason, he must think Sev values me. He thinks Sev will call off the Industrial Road takeover to get my hide back. Of course, there is no fucking way Sev will trade me to stop this mission; that was understood from the beginning. When this twisted fuck figures out there’s no trade, he’s going to torture the shit out of Rocky and me.
I’m thinking of Georgie’s head in the locker and Hector being skinned alive and I know I can’t let that happen here. If I get him to kill us fast, I might be able to save Rocky from horrible pain. The result is the same, but I may have some control over the method. If I go hard at Balducci, they’ll have no choice but to kill me.
I’m up against Butch Bombart, another goon I never saw before, Bino and Balducci. I’m sure they all have guns, but only Bino is showing his. Here’s the thing: I’m probably a few seconds away from getting my ribs broken or legs smashed. They’re going to render me useless. When that happens, they control the whole agenda. They want me alive, that much is clear. I’ve been a sitting duck the whole time I was on the Kosher World premises, so they want me alive ... but ineffective.
If I get to Balducci, maybe get to his throat, they may shoot me. I have to be on Balducci hard and fast. I fought Butch Bombart, worked with Bino and can’t imagine this other goon is getting much action at the Mensa meetings. If I’m on top of Balducci, then Bino will have to move his gun off Rocky. If I can get at him efficiently enough, maybe, just maybe, Rocky can make a run for it. I can scare them enough to kill me, but it’s a crapshoot with Rocky.
The endgame looks bad; I hate to admit it, but that’s an honest overview. I’m accepting that I’m dead and I’m getting Rocky killed as well. Balducci doesn’t leave loose ends. As shitty as it sounds, if I do nothing, we’re both goners the slow, hard way; if I act, maybe she dies fast, but maybe she has a shot
to get out of here in whatever chaos I can cause.
I calmly say, “Jimmy, before you do anything crazy, I think I have a solution here.” I continue to spew some bullshit as tranquilly as possible. It’s so absurd that even I can’t fathom what I am saying. Then I sprint full speed toward Balducci and, son of a bitch, I make it to him. I knock him over and have him by the throat. I’ve got a grip on his neck that would asphyxiate an elephant. Balducci, being management, isn’t much of a fighter. I roll him over on the ground, trying to make myself a moving target and tougher to shoot at, all the time, squeezing his throat. What a sight this must be. Maybe I can kill him before they shoot me.
Bino is screaming, “Shoot the prick! Don’t let him hurt Jimmy.”
Bombart shouts, “You got a gun, motherfucker. You shoot him. What if I miss and hit Jimmy?”
Balducci is turning purple and these assholes are involved in some Roe vs. Wade debate. Finally they realize they better not shoot, and they try to break us up, but I keep rolling Balducci. They start punching me but hit him a few times by mistake also. I swear I can kill him if they give me a few more minutes.
Bombart jumps on Balducci and me. It’s a smart move, and now I’m no longer a moving target. Bino whips at my head with his gun handle and the other goon works on my hands and loosens my grip on Balducci’s throat. I pop up and scream to Rocky, “Run, make a run for it!” The other three guys are attending to their boss.
Rocky is confused. She doesn’t know I made this distraction for her. She probably wants to help me, but all I want is for her to get the fuck out of here. I begin to run toward her. Balducci motions to the other guys to stop me. Bino figures it out first and screams, “Davenport, you have two seconds to freeze.” Which, of course, I’m not going to do.
Canisters of smoke roll into the Tongue Room and I hear footsteps running all about me. I turn to Rocky and holler again, “Run, baby, run.” Smoke is covering our feet and the fog is rising. I can still see the doorway of the Tongue Room. Before I can make my exit, I hear it first. Shit, it’s so loud echoing against all the stainless steel tables that occupy the Tongue Room. Crack-crack. The sound ringing and echoing causes almost as much pain as the impact of the bullet into my flesh.
I feel pain radiating up my left side. Damn; I’ve been hit. “Rocky, you have to run. I’ll catch up with you later. Please baby, run.”
“I can’t,” she pleads.
“You have to,” I insist. I nudge her toward the door.
The floor of the room is filling with smoke from the canisters; what must be Curtis’ Special Service guys start coming in. Bino waves his gun menacingly and Sev empties one right in the middle of his skull. Brain and blood spray all over Bino’s face. He drops hard to his knees and freezes there for a moment. Finally the crimson face tilts toward the floor and drops. His scrambled brains and bloody face disappear into the rising smoke, and I hear the loud thud of that pale fuck’s lifeless body hitting the floor. The world has just lost a wonderful human being.
I reach down and feel my side above my left hip. The pain is too much. I look at my hand; it’s covered with blood. My head hurts from the crack-crack still bouncing around in my skull.
I’m practically coughing my throat out from the smoke. The room is now filling with special service guys. I can hear the footsteps and I can see the figures in their gas masks and military equipment. I’m coughing too much to concentrate and my head is getting light. I need to get out of here.
Somehow I stagger out of Kosher World and out onto the street. I’m hoping I can catch my breath now that I’ve escaped the smoke. But it’s hard; my side hurts and I can’t lose the echoing in my head, crack-crack.
If I stay here, I could bleed to death. I need to get help. The streets are dark, much darker than usual. I’m disoriented, and I need to find a street that I know.
What if I can’t make it? Will I bleed to death? Where the hell is Rocky? Did Sev and Curtis take out the streetlights? Is that why it’s so fucking dark? I don’t hear any voices. Where the fuck am I? I turn around to see the factory, but I must have wandered further than I thought. Man, am I fucked up or what?
I see some lights. I should be able to reach them and get some help, but it’s a struggle for me to stay focused. If I black out I’m going to be in trouble. I want to stop and lie down for a while and get some strength back, but I know better. If I pass out over here, there’s a good shot it’ll be morning until someone notices me. That could be all she wrote. I’ll just stay tough and keep moving forward.
Did I pass out? I started this whole shit-show at 9 p.m. but it feels like it’s three in the morning. I’ve been on these streets before but they never seemed so dark and empty. I’ve got to keep focused on those colored lights in the distance. They get closer. I hear music. When I see the lights clearly, I recognize them. They are the neon signs for the various beers served at the Locomotive Breath.
The music is loud now, practically pulsating through the street. Over it I hear the sounds of wild cheering. I check my bloody side. I don’t want to cause any commotion coming in all messy, but I think I might need a doctor.
As I swing open the door, I see a crowd of people around a makeshift stage. Harv Hatch is here, with his scraggly beard and beer belly, one hand around Little Steven Van Zandt, and the other arm around his idol, Bruce Springsteen. The whole fuckin’ E Street Band is here, singing “Tenth Avenue Freezeout.”
I feel a tug at my shoulder as someone grabs me and turns me around. The yank causes my side to burn with pain. I close my eyes, grit my teeth and try to regain my composure. When I open my eyes, I see the unmistakable cornrows of Loot Hightower and Carey’s bright grin. Carey screams over the music, “Can you believe this?”
What the fuck is going on?” I demand.
Loot interjects, “What’s going on? Only the greatest party in history! We’re celebrating your victory.”
I grimace from the pain of the wound. “Huh? Someone explain what’s going on. Is that really Bruce Springsteen up there?”
Loot screams over the music, “Yeah, that’s Springsteen.”
“Whoa, in this dive? Guys, I got to find Rocky. You know where she is?”
“Yeah,” Carey says, “she’s here, and she’s been looking for you. Look, there she is.” He points to the bar. I think I catch a glimpse of her, but then she’s gone. The music’s getting louder and the drums are pounding like thunder. Pain darts through my whole body and ricochets around inside my skull. The drumbeats remind me of the gunshot, crack-crack. I show Carey my wound and he gives me something called a Euphoria Martini and explains it’s more than a drink. It’s bright blue in a triangular blue glass. When I down it, the pain instantly dissolves.
There are tons of people around now, laughing and having a great time. I feel frustrated because I can’t find her. “Let’s find Rocky and then find a doctor to look at my side.”
“Are you sure you want to go?” Loot asks seriously. “This is unreal and you’re doing okay now.”
“I guess I can stay,” I answer, “but let’s find Rocky.”
“Sure, sure, let’s go, she’s probably in the back.”
As we start walking, I see plenty of people I don’t know but plenty that I do know. There are people here from Spring Valley Lakes, and damn if that guy over there wasn’t on my Little League team back in the day when everything was good in Manhasset. People are waving at me, shaking my hand and hugging me.
We enter the back room. It’s quieter here, but I wouldn’t call it quiet. I can still hear the drums pounding. As I walk deeper into the back room, I am trying to spot Rocky’s auburn hair amidst all the heads swaying to the music. I think I see her in the distance but I’m not sure; people are dancing around, blocking my line of sight. This back room is darker than the rest of the place, and it keeps getting darker as we walk on.
As we get close to the bar, I see two guys laughing and having a rowdy conversation. When they see me, they courteously move over in mid
-story and yield some real estate so I can get up to the bar. I nod my thanks to one guy and immediately his face surprises me. He looks just like Hector Pinto. The problem is, Hector Pinto was skinned alive a few months ago. He notices my surprised look and says, “If I didn’t cut my finger off, way back when I was supposed to fight, you may never have been in an Industrial Road bout. Think about it. If it weren’t for me, you might never have taken a stand against Balducci. It’s clear, I was the beginning of the whole thing.”
I don’t know what to say to this Hector look-alike. He’s waiting for an answer and repeats, “It’s clear.”
I still don’t know how to respond. I look at Carey and Loot but they just shrug.
The large guy next to him says, “You?” He shakes his head, but his head seems unsteady. “Shit, I was the first one to stand up to Balducci, that’s clear. I got caught talking to the police, but I had the balls to try to do something. That’s where it started. That’s the only thing that’s clear!”
Suddenly I recognize the guy’s hairy fuckin’ ears. “Holy crap, Georgie, what are you doing here?”
“Drinking a shit-load of Euphoria Martinis, that’s clear!” Georgie and Hector high-five each other and start laughing. Loot and Carey both join in and soon everyone is laughing, except me.
Georgie turns to Loot and says, “What’s up with your buddy? Is he okay?”
Loot asks me what’s wrong. I look at Carey and Loot and I’m so shocked that I can hardly get the words out. “Guys ... these two dudes ... died a while ago.”
Loot and Carey begin laughing, and the Georgie and Hector look-alikes join in. “Right!” Georgie shouts. “We’re dead! Oh yeah, that’s clear!”
Loot, Carey, Hector and Georgie are soon laughing out of control. What the fuck is so funny? What the shit is happening? Clear? This is anything but clear. All around us, people are laughing. I’d like to join in but my side is hurting again. My head is throbbing, and I can hear that crack-crack echoing in my skull. All the familiar faces are laughing, all laughing at me. Everyone except Rocky and my father. They are at the bar as well. Their faces are expressionless, their gaze fixed on my face. I look back and forth between them. I am locked into Rocky’s eyes. Then I am locked into my father’s eyes. I see tears streaming down Rocky’s face. Aw, Rocky, don’t cry....
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