by Dan Fante
He was leering at me. Across the table, his thousand dollar double-breasted suit made him look like a magazine ad for a rich prick. ‘How about it, Bruno? You and me. You’ll be the first employee at First National Copier Products.’
I stood up, dug in my pocket and dropped a dollar on the table. ‘No deal, Frank. But have a swell day.’
At three o’clock, I was waiting outside the YMCA day camp for Timothy. When he came out, he opened the car door and began unloading his backpack and baseball equipment. ‘Hey,’ I said, noticing his stuff, ‘you’re missing one of your new bats.’
‘I know,’ he half-whispered, ‘it broke.’
‘A brand new bat! A twenty-nine dollar bat. Did you save the pieces? I’ll return it to the store and get my money back.’
‘Shit happens, Bruno.’
‘Hey kid, language!’
‘You say it. I’ve heard you.’
‘Rules. Remember? I’m the adult.’
‘You’re correct. I apologize.’
As I was unlocking my apartment door, the phone rang. Timothy ran across the living room to get it. As soon as he picked it up, I knew it was her. His expression said it. They talked for a minute then he held the phone up. ‘It’s Mom. She needs to speak to you.’
The voice on the other end was tense and scared. ‘Yo Bruno, it’s me. I got trouble. Bad shit, baby.’
‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m gonna do a year, man! Mandatory. I got violated. My probation. I’m screwed.’
‘What happened?’
‘I was with some people who had dope in their car, and smoke, and some other shit. We got pulled over on the strip. They searched everybody.’
‘Did you have cocaine on you?’
‘I need money. Right away. Two thousand. One of the girls got a sharp drug attorney guy here in Vegas. He tole us to say the search waz illegal, you know?’
‘But you still violated probation.’
‘Are you listening to me, man?’
‘They closed Orbit today, Jimmi. My company. I lost my job.’
‘Hey, I’m on the fuckin’ jail phone here! I need help! Jou got two grand or not?’
‘Sure.’
‘Send it. Don’ come here and bring it. Jus wire it. Get a pencil, I’ll give you where to mail the money.’
‘What about Timothy? What happens to the kid?’
‘Call my sister Sema. Tell her I’m in jail. She’ll take him. She got no choice, man.’
I was watching the boy. He stood across the living room by the window, listening, pretending to be looking out at the ocean.
Covering the phone’s mouthpiece with my hand, I called to him. ‘Hey,’ I said, ‘It looks like Jimmi might not be coming back soon. Do you want to go back to your Aunt Sema’s house?’
He wouldn’t answer. Finally, slowly, he shook his head ‘no.’ His voice was barely audible. ‘If it’s alright with you, I want to stay here. Is that okay?’
He had his mother’s eyes. Blue. As blue as the world’s deepest, bluest sky. ‘You’d have to sleep in your own bed,’ I said. ‘In your bedroom.’
The boy was smiling. ‘That would be okay, Bruno. I would consider that an acceptable compromise.’
I was back on the phone. ‘Look Jimmi,’ I said, something caught in my throat, ‘I’m sorry…I have to go now.’
Then I hung up the phone.
Other Books by Dan Fante
FICTION
86’d
Spitting Off Tall Buildings
Chump Change
Short Dog: Cab Driver Stories from the L.A. Streets
POETRY
A Gin-Pissing-Raw-Meat-Dual-Carburetor-V8-
Son-of-a-Bitch from Los Angeles:
Collected Poems, 1983-2002
Kissed by a Fat Waitress: New Poems
DRAMA
Don Giovanni: A Play
The Boiler Room: A Play
Copyright
First U.K. edition of this book was published in 2000 by Canongate Books Ltd.
First U.S. edition of this book was published in 2001 by Canongate Books Ltd.
P.S.™ is a trademark of HarperCollins Publishers.
MOOCH. Copyright © 2000 by Dan Fante. Introduction copyright © 2001 by Anthony Bourdain.
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EPub Edition © OCTOBER 2009 ISBN: 978-0-061-95975-2
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First Harper Perennial edition published 2009.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
09 10 11 12 13 ID/RRD 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
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