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After his lunch with the boys, Eddie made a stop that was long overdue. The sweltering afternoon and cloudless blue sky left the sun burning his head and shoulders. He hated to sweat, but was losing that battle as he pulled open the heavy wooden door. The day’s light streamed into its dark entryway as he stepped in, letting the door slam behind him.
Aptly named The Corner Bar, the place had seen better days. The smell of stale beer and old popcorn drifted up Eddie’s nostrils, as he lingered near the entrance waiting for his eyes to adjust to the gloom.
After a moment, he looked around the outdated tavern. To his left stood a long wooden bar, its shine long-gone, the polished beauty scuffed away, one sliding bottle of beer at a time. Along the bar sat three lone patrons, each hanging their head as though waiting for hope to jump out of their drinks. To his right, several beat-up tables and a wall lined with booths, sat empty.
Eddie’s cousin, Salvatore Gagliardi, sat in the furthest seat of the bar near an unmarked door, a red and purple neon sign in the shape of an arrow pointing at it from above. Restrooms, Eddie presumed. Mirroring the mood of his bar mates, Sal’s head hung low, his mouth close to the tip of his bottle of beer. The bartender and the other two patrons turned as Eddie entered, but not Sal. Eddie walked to him and gave him a heavy slap on the back.
“Sal! How’s it goin’?”
Sal raised his elbow as he turned to see who’d just assaulted him. On seeing Eddie, Sal’s eyes lit up. He lowered his battle-ready arm and smiled.
“Eddie! What the fuck?”
He stood and gave Eddie an enthusiastic embrace. Eddie patted Sal’s huge back, still as muscular as always, and pushed him away, holding him at arm’s length.
“Lemme’ look at-cha’, cuz.”
Sal’s salt-and-pepper hair, usually swooped back in a high wave, was flat and overgrown, looking more salt than pepper. His oversized mustache was, as usual, over-dyed a harsh black, but his beaked nose covered half of it.
Eddie quickly let go of him and spread out his arms. “Huh? Surprised?”
“Surprised? I can’t believe it!”
Eddie laughed. “Your ma’ told me you’d be here. She was her usual bowl of sunshine when she heard it was me on the phone.”
Sal let out a sharp, short laugh. “Yeah, I’ll bet she was.”
He gestured toward the stool next to him. “Sit down. Lemme’ get-cha’ a beer.”
Eddie straddled the stained and worn bar stool, its peeling red pleather poking out in the shape of a star. Sal waved his hand at the hunched-over bartender who appeared to be at least seventy-five.
“Yo Frank, can we get a couple-a beers over here?”
“Sure thing,” said the old man.
Eddie looked up and down the bar. “This place sure has gone to shit since the last time I was here.”
“The whole neighborhood’s gone to shit,” Sal said. “Payne Avenue all the way up past Minnehaha.” He shook his head. “It’s all changed.”
Frank delivered their beers and grabbed Sal’s empty bottle.
Eddie looked at the bottles and pointed. “What’s this?”
Sal took his bottle. “What?”
“Where’s the fuckin’ glass? I ain’t drinkin’ outta’ some filthy beer bottle.”
Sal looked around. “Come on, Eddie.”
“Hey—ah’, bartender! Frank!” Eddie shouted.
Frank looked over at him.
“Can we get a couple-a glasses here? We ain’t animals.”
Frank rolled his eyes. “Pardon me.” He returned with two room-temperature mugs. “Shall I pour for you fine gentlemen?” he asked.
Sal waved him away, obviously embarrassed.
“Jesus, Sal,” Eddie said. “We gotta’ get you outta’ this dump.”
He poured his beer and took a sip, frowning at the taste, before leaning in to Sal with a smile as he smacked his arm.
“Hey. ‘Member when we was kids? We’d go door-to-door exchangin’ food?”
Sal looked straight ahead at the rows of bottles behind Frank as though seeing those days long since passed. He nodded.
“Yeah. I’d bring bread, ‘member? Your ma’ would give me meatballs. Mrs. Tarluzzo—she’d give me lettuce.”
Eddie looked straight ahead, too. “By the time we were back home, we had a full dinner.”
Sal looked at Eddie. “And when we got older, we’d go bowling at the Arlington Bowling Alley with our parents. And to the ice cream shop to look at the pretty girls sittin’ at the counter.”
Eddie laughed. “Now, those were good times, am I right?”
“Yep,” Sal said, quietly. “Good times.” He sipped his beer. “Then you had to move to Brooklyn, and I was stuck here—all by my-lonesome. Watchin’ the Italians move out and the riff-raff move in.”
The two men sat in silence.
Eddie took a swig of beer. “So, how long you been out?”
“‘Bout six months now.”
“What they get ya’ for again?”
“Assault with a deadly weapon. Wacked a guy over the head with a baseball bat.”
“That’s right. I remember my ma’ tellin’ me about that.”
“He owed me money.” Sal shook his head. “Prick almost died. Shit.”
Eddie lifted his beer and air-toasted Sal.
“Got what he deserved. Man’s gotta’ pay his debts, know what I’m sayin’?”
Sal nodded. The two men stayed silent for a moment, and then Sal turned to Eddie and said, “What-cha doin’ back in town anyways?”
Eddie smiled and flipped his head side-to-side. “Oh, you know. Business. Got a few irons in the fire, as they say.”
Sal nodded. “That right? Good fa’ you.”
Eddie turned back to Sal. “So, yeah. I gotta’ restaurant now, too. Down Payne a bit from here. I’m helpin’ this old lady run it.”
Sal smiled. “Oh yeah? What kinda’ restaurant?”
“Italian. It’s called Fortunato’s.” He smiled. “Surprised, right?”
Sal chuckled. “Yeah, actually. I am surprised. That don’t sound like somethin’ you’d get into. How come you doin’ it back here and not in Brooklyn? I thought that was home fa’ you now.”
Eddie tilted his head. “Well, yeah. Brooklyn’s home. But I got called back here to help my boss take care-a some bullshit and help this old lady. Turns out she’s alright, ya’ know? Sweet old lady. Hundred-percent eye-talian. Can barely understand her.”
Sal nodded, listening and drinking. But mostly drinking.
“Think I heard-a that place. Fancy shit.”
“Fancy is right. And her risotto?” Eddie kissed his two fingers. “Top class. You ain’t even gonna’ believe it, Sal. I’m tellin’ ya’.”
Eddie sensed he was losing Sal’s attention.
“So ah’, yeah, anyways. That’s why I’m here. I been lookin’-fa’ you.”
Sal turned to him and touched his chest. “Lookin’-fa’ me?”
“Yeah. Yeah!”
“Fa’ what?”
“I wanna hire ya’. Ya’ know, run some operations I’m startin’, right?” He looked around as he lowered his voice and leaned in closer to Sal. “Stuff in addition to the restaurant.”
Eddie saw a flicker in Sal’s eyes and watched him straighten his spine. Sal lowered his head to get his ear closer to Eddie’s mouth. “You got work fa’ me, cuz?”
Eddie’s voice went a few breaths higher despite his smiling whisper. “Yeah. I got work.” He straightened and grinned as he took a swig of his already-warm beer.
Sal’s head bobbed, his eyes hopeful. “I mean ... seriously, Eddie. I ain’t had a job in a while now. My ma’s been houndin’ my ass. Wants to kick me out. I could really use the work—get a place-a my own, ya’ know?”
“I knew you’d be interested,” Eddie said. “I mean—I hadn’t heard you was outta’ work or nothin’. I just always remembered you liked your money and your nice things. And from the looks-a ya’, you could use that right now.”
Sal frowned and looked down at his stomach, pulling on the old black and red flannel shirt he was wearing, tattered at the edges, tight around his belly.
“Man, you got that right. What kind-a work you talkin’ about?” He shook his head. “I mean, I don’t know what I’d do, ya’ know? I don’t got no connections like I used to. When I got outta’ the joint everything was different.”
He splayed his fingers as if to say “poof.”
“Don’t you worry about that. I got some punks workin’ fa’ me. Neighborhood kids. They got connections. They’ll do the dirty work. But I need you to oversee what they’re doing. Capicsi? You’ll be their manager. You just make sure the money they’re bringin’ in comes to me. All of it. I’ll pay them their cut and give you fifteen percent of my cut. How’s that sound?”
Sal smiled and moaned. “Mmm. Manager, huh? I like the sound-a that.” After a minute though, he shook his head. “I don’t know, Eddie. I’m still on paper. Sounds too risky.”
Eddie leaned in. “Come on, man. What’d’ya got to lose? You ain’t doin’ shit. You got no money.” Eddie straightened his spine. “And believe me ...” he pinched his thumb and forefinger together and waved them near Sal’s face “... there’s lots to be made. Come on. What’d’ya’ say, ‘eh? I need your help. You’re the only guy I can trust. I need somebody to watch these punks. Make sure they ain’t robbin’ me blind.”
Sal sighed heavily and nodded as he turned to Eddie.
“Yeah, okay. What the fuck? You talked me into it. Anything’s better than sittin’ around like this all fuckin’ day, every day.”
Eddie laughed loudly. “That’s the spirit, cuz!”
He took out a pen and used a bar napkin to write down the address of the restaurant. He slid it over to Sal.
“You come see me at this address tomorrow around four o’clock. We’ll talk some more.”
Sal took the napkin and put it in his flannel shirt pocket. “Got it.”
“Don’t say nothin’. Not to your ma’, not to nobody.”
Sal frowned. “I got it, I got it. I won’t say nothin’, alright?”
Eddie finished his beer and stood to leave. He reached into his wallet and threw a twenty on the bar.
“Don’t be late.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Oh, and tell Aunt Rita I said hello,” Eddie said, as he turned to leave.
Sal took his last swig from the bottle. “You know she hates you,” he laughed. “Says you’re the one who got me into all-a this trouble.”
Eddie grabbed his chest in mocked surprise. “What? Me? Naw.”
Sal chuckled.
“Well,” said Eddie. “I guess I’m gonna’ have to change her thinkin’.”
He reached into his pocket and again pulled out his wallet. He rifled through the wad of bills he’d taken from the restaurant’s register, pulled out a couple hundred dollars, and tossed it onto the bar in front of Sal.
“Here.”
Sal raised his brows. “What’s this for?”
“Go buy some clothes. You look like a bum. If you work fa’ me, you dress the part. And buy your ma’ some flowers. Tell her they’re from me. There’s many ways to make people happy. You just gotta’ know how-ta do it.”
“It’s not easy with her.”
“Do me a favor. Try being nice-ta her. Then, when we meet tomorrow afternoon, you let me know how she reacts, alright?”
Sal frowned and shook his head. “Yeah. Alright Eddie. I’ll give it a try. It’d be nice, actually, to get her back to the way she used-ta be.”
“I’ll see you’se later.”
“Thanks, Eddie,” Sal said. He gave him a short wave.
Eddie pulled open the heavy old door, the sun spilling inside. He turned and pointed at Sal with a grand smile. “Ya’ welcome.”
He walked out onto the street and strutted toward Marco’s Mustang, a slight grin crossing his lips.
The boys ain’t gonna’ like Sal.
