Adrian Del Valle - Diego's Brooklyn

by Adrian Del Valle

  “Thanks. Can you bring it Friday?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ll see. Friday, yeah sure.”

  Petey stuck his head out. “Ayyy! Does ya tink we got all day? Let’s go! We gotta get lunch! Stop your yakin’ back there and finish up, will ya?”

  Friday: Diego’s Apartment 10:25 A.M.

  “So, Ju are Meester Jacksown. I’m so hoppy to meet ju.”

  “And I is pleased at meetin’ yawl, Missus Ana. Sure is a roomy place you got here.”

  “Gracias.”

  Worried, Diego faced his mother from across the table. “Tony says he’s bringing me a carriage today, but I just don’t know…he didn’t seem like he…”

  “Dee carriage ju were telling me abou’? Done worry. Eef Tony say he will bring eet, then Tony will bring eet. Have some coffee, Meester Jacksown?”

  “Thankya kindly, Missus Ana.”

  Diego’s mother limped to the table and poured it for him. “Milk ees on dee table with dee chugar.”

  “This is some strong coffee, Missus Ana.”

  “Mom makes it in a stinky old sock.”

  “No I done. He’s Jus’ playing. I use thees.”

  Ana held up a cloth pouch made of cotton with a wire frame around the opening and filled with Bustelo coffee grinds, a strong Spanish coffee. She put the pouch into a pot of boiling water to allow it to steep.

  “I can give ju bread weeth butter if ju want?”

  “No thankya, ma’am. Ah just et. Thank you just the same, though.”

  Vroom! Bang! Bam!

  “I guess that be them now,” said Bill. “Let’s go meet the boys, outsod.”

  Diego ran down the steps two at a time and yelled over the truck noise. “Did you find anything, Tony?”

  “Nah, nuttin’, right, Louie?”

  “Nah, Fat Tony ain’t found nuthin’ in the basement?”

  Petey leaned his head out, took a puff from a freshly lit cigar and slipped a smile.

  “Yeah, too bad, right, Fat Tony?” Louie repeated.

  “Yup,” Tony nodded back. “I looks and I don’t see no carriage down there nowhere. Nope, nope…and then guess what happens?”

  Diego shrugged.

  “Well, I’s comes to work this mornin’ and I dunno, but I looks up at the pigeons flying ‘round the garage and guess what I sees? A freakin’ carriage right up there on top a da truck. Ain’t that right, Louie?”

  “Yup, I seen it there myself. Take a look, kid.”

  The smile on the boy stretched wider. There on the roof of the truck was a blue carriage with a cushy, chrome spring above each wheel. Louie climbed up and handed it down to Tony.

  “Here ya go, kid. It’s all yours.”

  “Wow! Check it out, Bill,” the boy said.

  “That sure be a fancy one,” said the old gent.

  “Ayyy…whose the mooly?” Petey snapped, in his usual husky voice.

  “He’s my friend and new business partner, Mr. Bill Jackson.”

  Petey smirked. “Mister who? …Oh! ‘Scuse me! Mr. Jackson he says. Ho, ho!”

  “Ah, shaddup, Petey.” Louie snapped. “Mr. Jackson is his business partna, and that’s, that. Got it?”

  “Yeah…yeah, sure. Okay, hot shot. Mr. Jackson it is. So what is it now…you guys are in the transportation business?” Without waiting for an answer, Petey waved them off and ducked back inside the cab.

  “That’s right,” Louie shouted. “They’re in the transportation business, and that ain’t no business of yours.” He turned to Diego. “Lotsa luck kid.”

  “Yeah, that goes for me, too. Lotsa luck,” said Fat Tony.

  “And you too, Mr. Jackson.”

  “Thank ya boys. That’s right mighty nice of y’all fellas.”

  “Yo! Let’s go! Lunchtime, remember?” Petey yelled.

  Louie and Tony hopped onto the back of the hopper and waved.

  Vroom!

  Bill waved back. “They sho is some nice fellas. Come on, Diego. We all is a goin’ to my place to puts the box onto this here carriage. We is goin’ to make some mon-a-ay to-o-o…day?”

  Beulah gave Diego a kiss on the forehead as soon as he entered the Jackson’s room. In a high pitched voice, she said, “How be ma favorite Puerto Rico childs.”

  “Oh, I’m fine Mrs. Jackson, thank you.”

  Eying the carriage in the hall, she added, “So is you all boys a goin’ to put this thang togetha today?”

  “Yes, ma’am, Diego answered.”

  Bill smiled. “She sho is a beaut, ain’t she, Missus Jackson?”

  “She sho is, Mista Jackson,” Beulah assertively replied.

  “I’ll be right back,” said Bill. “Now don’t yawl go nowhere, Diego.”

  “Now where all he gonna go when he’s a settin’ right here by me?” Beulah scolded. “Now go on with you and get that old box. Diega done wait long enough. You want some pa, Diega?”

  “Pa?”

  “Yes, suh! Blue berry pa. Let me git some fer ya. We picks the blue berries right from this here yard right out there in April and froze up a bunch of it.”

  The pie was delicious—finger scraping the plate delicious. If Diego was home, he would have licked it clean.

  Banging and huffing soon came from the hallway. The door opened and in Bill’s arms was a large, blue wooden box.

  “I paints this on here masalf. How you like it?”

  BILL and D EGGO

  grossry diliverees

  “Well? Whatcha thank? I did all o’ this here letterin’ what ya sees here?”

  “I think you should have let me do the lettering, Bill?”

  “Aw, fiddlesticks, son. She’s good ‘nough. Are you ready to go to work?”

  “Sure! We can still make the rush hour. That’s when people buy stuff on their way home from work. Should we try Herzog’s deli first?”

  “Deli, smelly! Gee willikers, we is in the big times, Diego, so we got to think big! You and I is a goin’ to the A, and a P. That’s where the big money is. Now, let’s get on out o’ here. Bye bye, Momma.”

  The Front of the A & P Supermarket

  “We been here for a good half a hour and ain’t nobody so much as give us a look see. Hey, hold on! Look over there, another one’s a comin’!”

  “She’s awfully fat, Bill. I bet you she could use our help.”

  Look snappy son. Fix your shirt. Hurry up and tucks it in. You gots to look sharp if ya want to be in the big times.”

  “How’s this? Does it look okay, now?”

  “Boy, don’tcha ever combs your hair?” Bill caught himself, softened his voice and brushed Diego’s hair back with long fingers. “Now go on and ask if she needs our help.”

  “Hello ma’am, can we help you with the groceries?”

  “Excuse me?” the lady barked. “I don’t need any ones help. Oh, the nerve. Now they have convicts trying to steal your groceries. What will they think of next?”

  The lady turned her back to them and huffed off.

  “Now, I’ll be. Will you looky at that?” said Bill.

  “I think she was afraid of you,” Diego replied. “You know, you being big and all.”

  “Yawl mean colored, dontcha, boy? Maybe? She sho be mad, wasn’t she? Hey son, did you see that big ol’ backside of hers?”

  “Her what?” Diego laughed at that.

  “She’s got a butt bigger’en a forty dollar mule.”

  “A forty dollar mule?”

  “Yes, Suh! It’d take two trips with a wheelbarra to haul that butt on home. Hey, here come another one. Now, I’ll stand ways over there like we ain’t together. Let’s see if that don’t make no difference.”

  “Ma’am, do you need some help with the groceries?” Diego asked.

  “Well, I only live a few blocks away. Well okay, sure. What do I do…put them in here?”

  “I’ll do it for you, ma‘am.”

  “And what’s your name?”

  “Diego, ma’am.”

  “Well, nice to meet you,
Diego.”

  Three blocks went fast. At the lady’s front gate, Diego reached for the bags.

  The lady turned back from looking behind herself. “That man has been following us ever since we left the store. I just don’t know, but I think he’s up to no good.”

  “Don’t worry. That’s Bill. He’s my partner.”

  “Humph! This is so irregular. Oh, here…take this and leave the bags right there next to the steps. I can bring them in myself. Goodbye!”

  “Goodbye, ma’am.”

  He met up with bill.

  “How did we do, son?”

  “A whole dollar.”

  “A dollar? Is that right?”

  “I think she was so scared when she saw you following us, she didn’t bother to look for change. I’m sorry, Bill, but I’m not so sure this delivery thing is going to work out in the long run.”

  “So now you is a thankin’ that maybe this here business went on belly up like a shot up gator?”

  “Well, yeah, that’s exactly what I was thinking…sorta. We spent all of our time getting this carriage together for nothing.”

  “Now don’t go sellin’ your mule to buy a cow.”

  “Ha! No, but you know what? I may have another idea.”

  “What’s your idea, son, ‘cause ah can’t think o’ one as easily as you can? Ever’ time I stands up, my mind sits down.”

  “We can shine shoes in front of the Fox Theatre.”

  “Oh…now I knows how to shine shoes. I goes way-y-ys back on thata one. Spit Shine Bill, that’s what I is. Now, I can teach yawl a thang or two right they.”

  Diego scratched his chin. “Let’s not spit on nobody’s shoes. It might make them mad.”

  Scanlon continuously twirled his night stick around his wrist, two to the left and then two to the right, as he approached the corner of Nevins and Dean. At D’avino’s grocery, he pushed the door open and waited for a customer to leave. From a cooler at the back wall, he removed a six pack of Piels. When the lady left, he set it on the counter. “Put this in a paper bag along with the envelope.”

  Mr. D’avino did as he was told, and slid the bag toward him.

  “How much is in the envelope?”

  “Fifty dollars…the usual.”

  “Fifty? No…no…no! You owe interest! You’re two days late. What did you think, you’d get away with that for nuthin’? Put another ten in there.”

  “But offeecer…where a we gonna getta this money?”

  “In that fuckin’ register, that’s where. Don’t play around with me.”

  Officer a Scaleen, I no have notheeng left. All day I’m a payza the bills—the milk truck, the newzapaper guy, the soda truck, there’s a notheeng left.”

  “Then go find it. I’m not leavin’ until you do.”

  Scanlon stepped hard to the front of the store and flicked the lock. He turned the “Closed” sign around so that it faced the outside and lowered the blinds. “Go on! Go get it! What’re you waitin’ for?”

  The store owner cowered to the back room and stood next to his wife at the kitchen table. “He’s a crazy. Now he wants another ten. We’re we a gonna geta this money?”

  “The church money! What choice a we have?”

  Reluctantly, he reached for a coffee tin on top of the refrigerator, emptied it out on the table and began to count out a five, three singles and eight quarters. He glanced at his wife, pressed his lips together and returned to the front of the store.

  “Put it in the bag with the rest,” said Scanlon. He let himself out and headed to the next stop, a fish store on Bergen Street. The ten, he put in his wallet.

  Chapter Three

  Amigos del Barrio

  The rest of the summer was prosperous for the B & D partnership. Bill and Diego learned more ways to increase their earnings. They mowed lawns, painted fences and did anything and everything to make a buck. It was enough for Diego to set aside money for school clothes. Bill was able to catch up on the electric bill and to even put a little away for Beulah and himself.

  And it wasn’t all work and no play. Diego involved old Bill in a lot of the things he did, like stick ball. It was on a particularly hot day when…

  “We need two more players,” said Larry, “The Chubs” Constantine, a chunky kid from down the block.

  “Who said you were playing?” said Thomas’ son, Leroy. “I need two good players for first and third.”

  “I can play first,” said Diego.

  “No! I need you to play second so you can cover anything that goes up the middle. No one else can catch as good as you can around here.”

  The Pacific Street Lions, the team from the next block, was getting frustrated with the wait. Charlie, their lead hitter, shouted annoyingly at Leroy. “You know what, your team was supposed to be next up to play us, so where the hell are your players?”

  “Don’t worry,” said Leroy.

  Leroy’s dad, Thomas, owns a dump truck and works six days a week. He’s not only raising Leroy by himself, but Leroy’s two older brothers and a sister. His brothers were both away in college. His sister was studying nursing.

  “We’ll get the players! Sit tight! We’re coming right back.”

  In a huddle, the team explored their options, which was zip at the moment.

  “Where are we gonna get two more players?” said Leroy. “And what ever happened to our star player, Hector, by the way?”

  “He had to go with his parents,” said Diego.

  “Maybe they’re back by now. Where did they go?”

  “Out in Jersey someplace.”

  “That don’t do us no good,” Larry replied.

  Diego said, “If we forfeit this game, we can’t play the championship, and right now we’re in a good spot for that. We could’ve beaten those Lions, hands down.”

  “Yeah, we could have,” said Leroy. “Without Hector, though, I don’t know what we’re gonna do.”

  “Wait a sec, nobody said we had to be kids, right?” said Diego.

  “Whaddya mean?” interrupted, Joey, “The Mez” Marcantonio, one of the outfielders.

  “Yeah, exactly!” said, Diego. “Who says we can’t have a grown man on the team.” He turned toward the Lions and shouted, “Hey Charlie! We’ll be right back!”

  “Five minutes, or ya forfeit the game,” Charlie yelled.

  “Where’d you get that rule from?” The Chubs retorted.

  “Yeah, Charlie, you gotta give us more time,” said Leroy.

  “Okay, fifteen minutes. If you’re not back by then, we’re leavin’.”

  “What for? We can beat you with the guys we have,” yelled Jose, “The el Paso kid”.

  “Yeah, sure…right!” Charlie fumed. “Come on Butchie, let’s get a coupla sodas.”

  Leroy’s entire team, the Dean Street Kings, waited outside Bill Jackson’s building on Bergen Street while Diego and Leroy went inside.

  “Well, uh, ah ain’t played no baseball in years…and stickball no less. Nope, ah ain’t never played no baseball with no stick.”

  “You don’t have to bat. We need someone for first or third base? Are you any good?” Leroy asked.

  “I was a fair player in ma day. Ah thank so.”

  “Then you’ll play?”

  “Ain’t nothin’ else ‘roun hear to do. Momma’s a bit tarred. It’d be good for her to rest up a bit. Fine, boys! Let’s go!”

  “You’re sure you’re up to this, now?” said Leroy.

  “Yeah, how do you feel?” Diego worried. You’re not tired or anything, are you, Bill?”

  “Oh, hell no! I’m as fit as a fiddle. In fact, I feel happier than a twister in a trailer park.”

  Diego and Leroy grinned at one another.

  “We need one more guy, but I can’t think of anybody else that we can get in five minutes,” said Diego.

  “Oh, ah can, and I know he’s a darn good player, ‘cause he plays on a baseball team in Bensonhurst.”

  Back on Dean Street, Charlie made no ef
fort to conceal his laughter as soon as he saw Diego exit the corner grocery with the store owner and Bill Jackson trailing behind with the rest of the team.

  “Hey, man! Is that the two champion players you’re gonna play us with,” he scoffed.

  “Don’t worry about us, we’re ready,” said the Chubs.

  Another huddle formed as the Dean Street Kings bent into a tight circle. Bill wrapped his tall frame around Mr. D’avino and Diego.

  “What position can you play, Mr. D?” asked Leroy.

  “I iza plays alla the positia. Which a one you wanta me to play?”

  “We really need someone on third.”

  Then I playza third. Where’s a you bases?”

  Leroy pointed them out. “The front fender of the black Buick is first. The manhole is second, and third is the back fender of that Studebaker. If a runner tags any of those, he’s safe.”

  “So where’s a you home base?”

  “That little pot hole right behind you, Mr. D?”

  “That’s a good. Say…watsa the name of you boyza team?”

  “The Dean Street Kings.”

  “I’m a gotcha Leroy. Let’s go and plays a the ball.”

  Bill covered first base, or fender, with Diego, a.k.a., “The Whiz”, taking second at the manhole. Right field was covered by Jerry “The Giraffe” Muldoon, the tallest kid there. Skinny Jimmy, “Jimminy Cricket” Lanahan worked left field. Also in the field is Joey “The Mez” Marcantonio. He’s there to back up the other two fielders, or to catch anything that falls short through the trees. Whatever landed beyond the gates and into the front yards was foul and counted as a strike, of which a batter was allowed only two. Home plate, or the pot hole, was covered by “Island Mon” Leroy, the captain of the team.

  Larry “The Chubs” Constantine and Jose “The el Paso Kid” Avila sat in reserve. The Chubs sats there because he can’t hit for shit, nor catch anything but a fever. Jose, on the other hand, is the team’s best hitter. Leroy wants him to rest his hitting arm for when he really needs him. He doesn’t want a replay of previous games when Jose burned out just when the team was taking a dive. Without Hector, it was a chance he would have to take.