“I’m sorry, but your uncle is a pig. He grabs everything in sight, whether he needs it or not,” she said.
“You’re not going to quit?” I asked her.
“I’m not that crazy,” she said. “It’s not a bad job and I need the money.”
* * *
That Sunday after I had talked to Fat Rita, I figured out that Uncle Harry not only kept a nigger girl, but he was also ripping off Fat Rita’s brother out of his business. I kept staring at my homework trying to concentrate. But I couldn’t think about anything but what a prick Uncle Harry was. I already knew he was ripping me off. But he and Aunt Lila were my only close family now. I had no choice. But the rest of it was too much.
I remember when my parents were alive I could never understand why my father was working with Harry even if he was his brother-in-law. Aunt Lila had to know what was going on. After all, she had lived with him for over twenty-three years.
I lit a cigarette and opened the Frigidaire to take out a Pepsi when the doorbell rang. I opened the door. It was Buddy. He smiled at me. “I got you a present,” he said.
I let him in. “What the hell are you talking about?” I said.
“Can I get a Pepsi first?” he asked.
I handed him the bottle that I was holding in my hand and walked back over to the kitchenette to take out another one. “Okay,” I said when I returned. “What’s the big surprise?”
He took a swig out of the Pepsi bottle. He then pulled a small rectangular box out of his pocket. He put it on the table in front of me. “Open it,” he said.
I looked at him and then at the small box in front of me. I had to cut the box open with my fingernail and then I opened it. I stared down at the straight razor with a beautiful white ivory holder. I swished the razor open as I had seen Buddy do; the light from the window shone off the stainless steel blade. The blade felt cold as I held it in my fist. “You’re crazy!” I said. “You had no business blowing so much money on this beautiful knife for me,” I said.
He was still smiling, like a kid. “You didn’t even say thank you to me.”
“Thank you. I just can’t believe it,” I said as I looked at the knife. “But I still think you’re crazy. This had to cost a lot of money.”
“I’m not crazy,” he said. “I need your help.”
“You got it,” I said. “Tell me.”
“My friends up in Harlem don’t take much to Harry runnin’ a numbers business. They say that running numbers is a black business no matter where it happens to be in the city. It won’t sit anymore for your Uncle Harry to pay off the wops.”
I looked at him. “What could I do about it? I just work for him.”
“You’re his nephew. He’ll listen to you if you tell him that the Harlem bankers are going to step on him,” he said.
I looked at him. “He’ll know that the only person I could get this information from is you,” I said. “He’ll fire you.”
“Don’t matter,” he said. “I won’t be there anymore. And without me there won’t be any numbers business.”
I shook my head. “If it looks like trouble, he’ll run right to the wops.”
“It won’t do him any good. The wops and niggers already made their deal,” he said. “But if he okays the deal, I can still work out of his store and he’ll get a piece of the action. That’s better than getting himself killed.”
“You’re kidding … killed,” I said. “It’s not that much money is it?”
“That’s not the point,” Buddy said. “It’s the principle of it all. It’s about turf.”
I thought about it for a few moments. It really didn’t matter whether I liked Uncle Harry or not, he was still mishpuchah. I looked up at Buddy. “Okay, I’ll talk to him. But there’s no guarantee. He might just throw me out just as easily.”
“Harry’s not stupid,” Buddy said. “After he finishes screaming and hollering, he’ll see what’s happening and he’ll okay the deal.”
“This is my family, Buddy, like it or not. I’m taking a big chance,” I said.
Buddy looked at me like I was full of it. “There’s something in it for you. I took care of you and got the okay to give you a grand to give to Fat Rita’s brother as an investment. You’ll have paper on it.” He laughed as he said it. A big, down-deep laugh. “That’ll really screw Uncle Harry. He never had any paper from Eddie, and he’s lost all of it.”
I stared solemnly at Buddy. “I hope it all works out.”
“It will work out,” Buddy said confidently. “Don’t you see, it would only take a minute to go to Harry’s wife and tell her the whole story about Harry’s brown girlfriend.”
“I wouldn’t want Aunt Lila to get hurt like that,” I said.
“Just do your job and nothing will happen.” Buddy smiled. But his smile was cold.
“Buddy, you’re a shit,” I said.
“It’s just a living, son,” he said. “Now, come on, let me show you how to use that blade.”
11
It went just like Buddy said. Uncle Harry’s face was beet red and he was screaming and yelling and pounding on his desk until the glass on the desktop was broken. He looked down at it. “See what you made me do!” he yelled. “This piece of glass cost me fourteen dollars.”
I looked at him and began to laugh.
He stared at me. “What’s so funny, Mr. Wise Guy? Haven’t you caused me enough trouble already?” he said. “If only your father was here! You wouldn’t be laughing.”
For the first time in my life I didn’t call him “Uncle.” “Harry,” I said. “Don’t be a fool. The wops aren’t going to start a gang war for you. You’re just small potatoes. Besides, they’ve already made the deal with the niggers.”
Harry’s eyes began to bulge out of his sockets. “I’ll kill that little bastard Buddy. He’s the one that screwed me!” he yelled. “He’s out. He ain’t going to operate out of this store.”
“That’s not going to bother him. He can call in his numbers from any phone booth. If you give the okay, they have already agreed to give you a piece of the action,” I said.
“I’m not going to forget this,” he said. “Someday I’ll break his ass.”
“If you try,” I said, “he’ll send your girlfriend up to Aunt Lila. Then you are really in the shithouse.”
This was the final blow. He sat down in his chair out of breath. He shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. After a few moments he looked at me again. “You know that, too?” he said almost in a whisper.
I nodded.
“Are you going to tell your Aunt Lila?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “That’s none of my business.”
“I’m just human,” he said. “Even your father had problems.”
I cut him short. I didn’t want to know. “That’s none of my business, either,” I said. “My father is dead.”
“Are you fucking Kitty?” he asked.
“Whether I do or not is none of your business,” I answered. “Just as I have told you. Fucking is your own business.”
He sat silent for a moment. “Were you fucking Fat Rita?”
“Uncle Harry, are you deaf? Did you hear what I just said?” I asked incredulously.
“Then the nigger must be fucking her,” he raced on. “Why else would he arrange for you to get a grand to pay Eddie? That’s how much Eddie owes me.”
“Because Eddie told Buddy and me that my father gave him two grand to start his seltzer business. Buddy said that I deserved a partnership in his business,” I said.
“I would have given you a partnership in his business if I had gotten it,” Harry said.
“Would you, Harry?” I said. “You were trying to take over Eddie’s business for just the thousand that he owed you. You never even told me that my father gave Eddie any money.”
“I forgot it. I would have told you about it when I got the seltzer business,” he lied.
I shrugged. “It’s all over now. We can al
l go back to work.”
“Good,” Harry said, resigned to the situation. “Will Fat Rita be okay now? Is she coming back to work?”
“Yes,” I said. “She’s happy now.”
“I’ll give her a two-dollar a week raise,” he said. “And what about Buddy, is he going to work until you close?”
“He told me that he would,” I answered.
Harry sat there quietly for a moment. Then he looked down at the broken glass on his desk: “I’ll have to get the glass top done.”
I didn’t speak.
“It’ll cost fifteen dollars,” he said.
I still didn’t speak.
He looked up at me. “How do you know that Eddie will be fair with you in business?” he asked. “I know about gamblers. They never stop. No matter what he told you, he won’t stop. Sooner or later he’s going to be in the same mess again and he’ll be shoveling your money down the sewer. There are plenty of bookies who will take your money.”
“He’s not going to hold the money,” I said. “Fat Rita will take it and put it in the bank for him. I’ve asked Kitty to check on the accounts and I will get my share each month. Fat Rita will keep his.”
Uncle Harry looked at me appraisingly. “How did you get to be so smart?” he asked.
“I wasn’t so smart,” I said. “I learned from you.”
12
Sunday was the only day the store was closed. So this was the first day I had a chance to go to Brooklyn and have a look at Eddie’s garage where he kept his truck and machinery that filled the seltzer bottles. I wanted Kitty to come with me, but she had a family affair at her mother’s place. So I went alone.
I ran into Buddy on my way to the subway. I asked him to come with me, but he said that Sunday was a big day at church for him. He was an usher and took care of the collection plates for the reverend.
I started to laugh. “I never knew you were so religious.”
He smiled. “Takin’ care of those collection plates for the good Lord is important,” he said. “The pastor gives me ten percent of the money that’s collected.”
“Is it big money?” I asked, curious.
“Not much,” he said. “About ten dollars every Sunday. But the best part is that I get to know all the young girls, and their parents trust me ’cause I’m a man that works in the good Lord’s service.”
I shook my head. “You don’t bother the girls?”
“Now, I didn’t say that,” he said, smiling. “Me and the pastor have an agreement. I don’t chase his pussy if he don’t chase mine.” He laughed his loud, rumbling laugh and was on his way.
* * *
Eddie and Fat Rita were waiting for me at the subway station. Eddie seemed nervous. We walked to the garage, which was only a few blocks from the station. It was on a long street with nothing but one-story buildings. They looked like a lot of storage buildings and cheap manufacturing businesses, most of them producing sweatshop house-dresses. We arrived at a building that had two doors that would open wide enough for a small truck to drive into.
Eddie had his small wooden sign over the top of the garage doors: EDDIE’S CONEY ISLAND SELTZER. Eddie looked very different than his sister Fat Rita. He was a thin man, about six feet tall, but his arms were long, almost touching his knees. But his face was just like his sister’s, round and with a dimpled chin. He seemed very proud of his business. He told me a hundred times how grateful he was to me for helping him out of this fix. I was surprised to learn that he was not married and that he lived with his sister. I also found out that he had worked for the man who owned the seltzer bottle place for almost ten years. About three years ago, the old man wanted to retire. He was tired of working the long hours and he thought that the soda pop business, with their cheap bottles that could be bought in grocery stores, would put him out of business eventually. The old man and his wife sold Eddie the business for five grand. That included the truck, the stock of seltzer bottles, and the machine that filled the bottles with seltzer and capped them. He and Fat Rita pooled their resources and bought the building as well as the business. And it was my father who gave them the two grand to buy all the supplies.
I stood in the garage and began to figure out how much everything in the business was worth. I wasn’t very sure of the values of all the things, but one thing I did know was that Uncle Harry was really trying to steal Eddie blind for the thousand that he owed. Just my father’s investment alone was worth more than the debt.
I turned to Rita. “About how much business does Eddie do a week?” I asked.
“The average is about fifty dollars a day plus the deposits on the bottles, which is about a dollar fifty. We never have to return the deposits, because people just turn in their empties and Eddie gives them full bottles. Once they make their deposits Eddie has their business forever. The old Yiddelach like their fifty cents for a quart seltzer.” She smiled. “Eddie does real well. He makes twenty-five dollars a day and he is picking up more customers every week. He works six days a week. He takes off Saturdays because the Jews wouldn’t like it if he worked on the Sabbath. He makes one hundred and fifty dollars a week. After expenses, truck servicing, gasoline, electricity for the place, and special materials for filtering the water and salts to make the seltzer, plus sterilizing the empty bottles leaves him one hundred dollars a week.”
“Do you keep all the accounts?” I asked.
“Now I do,” she said. “Eddie will give me all of the receipts at the end of the day, and I’ll deposit it in the bank the next morning.”
“And what do I get out of it?” I asked.
“We figured that ten percent would be fair,” she said.
“That’s not much,” I said. “At that rate it will take three years to get the money back that my father invested.”
“Then how much do you think would be fair?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve asked my friend Kitty to take a look at the books. She’s graduating as a CPA. Why don’t we wait until the end of the month. Then she’ll figure out something that will work for everybody. But I know that ten dollars a week is a joke.”
Fat Rita’s eyes narrowed. “If it weren’t for me you would never have even known that your father put money into this business.”
“I saved Eddie’s business before Harry grabbed it,” I said. “After all, would Harry even keep Eddie working for him if he had taken over? And if he did, he’d only pay him twenty-five dollars a week at the most. And Buddy told me that he was going to hire a black man to take over Eddie’s job and pay only fifteen a week.”
“They wouldn’t be able to run the business,” Eddie said.
“Then Harry would sell it. He’d be able to get at least five grand for all the machinery, bottles, garage, and truck,” I answered. “Harry is not a schmuck. He always has everything figured out. Don’t forget he was going to get the whole business for only a grand.”
They were silent.
“How much did the old owner pay you a week?” I asked.
“Twenty-five bucks, but I didn’t have to do all of the work. He did fifty percent of the work preparing the bottles and seltzer. I made the deliveries and pickups, and sold to new customers,” he answered. “Now I’m doing everything inside and out. And don’t forget, I put three thousand dollars of my own along with what your father put in. I also put a lot of money fixing things up. The old man had let a lot of things wear down.”
“Do you have receipts?” I asked.
“No, I just did it,” he answered.
“I understand you’ve put a lot of work into this, but I just don’t think ten dollars a week is enough. But let’s wait and let Kitty try to work it out for us. We’ll find a fair agreement.”
“Isn’t Rita entitled to something for the work that she’s doing?” Eddie asked.
“Rita is entitled to a salary, too. Maybe it would be better if we just worked out a payment plan and you give me interest on the two thousand that you owe me. Then I’ll be out of
the business and you’ll own the whole company.”
Eddie turned to his sister, and then he looked at me. “The only problem is, some weeks I sell less than I expect. Then I might not be able to pay what I owe you for the week.”
I decided that we were going around in circles. “Let’s not worry about it right now. Just keep working and doing what you’re doing, and we’ll figure the right way for everybody. Once Kitty goes over the books we’ll know more.”
“You’re not trying to take this business away from him?” Fat Rita said, crying.
“Don’t be silly,” I said, trying to comfort her. “What the hell would I want with his business? I don’t know a damn thing about it. All I want is to get the money that’s due me and then we’ll all go our own ways.”
“And what about the thousand that Buddy arranged for us?” she asked.
“I’ve got nothing to do with that. That’s between you two and Buddy. But I know one thing—he won’t break your back. He knows how tough it is. He’ll work with you.” I smiled at them. “Just relax. Everything will work out if Eddie takes care of business and stays away from the horses.”
“I’m out of that,” Eddie said.
“Good,” I said. “Now, how about having a bottle of Eddie’s Coney Island Seltzer. I’ll treat,” I said, reaching in my pocket and handing Eddie some cash.
13
I was listening to The Eddie Cantor Hour on the radio when Kitty came in. She had her own key to my apartment now, so I didn’t even realize she was in the room until I heard her voice. “What are you doing in bed this early?” she asked.
“Trying to sleep,” I answered. “After I got back from seeing Eddie and Rita at the Coney Island Seltzer factory I was tired.” I shrugged and stopped for a moment. “I guess I’m worried,” I said. “I don’t know if I did the right thing or not.”
She looked at me. “What did you arrange with them?” she asked.
“I told him that I didn’t want any part of their business. All I want is the money my father invested and I’ll be satisfied,” I answered.
The Predators Page 5
