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Jimmy Provitera has been sentenced and sent up the river to Sing Sing to serve a life sentence. Frankie's trial goes smoothly and as promised in his plea bargain, the Judge, the honorable Harry Burns, sentences Frankie to eighteen months at Rikers Island.
After sentencing, he is immediately handcuffed and taken to a little cage behind the side door of the courtroom, there, they remove the cuffs and search his bag and shoes, they then return his shoes.
Peggy, his girl and Jana her daughter, as well as his parents, Louie and Connie and his brother Ray have come to court for the sentencing and now ask the guard if they can see Frankie before they take him away.
In the holding room, the door opens for a second and Frankie can see Peggy and Jana speaking to the guard. He hears Peggy ask the guard to inform him, Frankie, that she and Jana will come to visit him as soon as they are allowed. Frankie tries to call out to them, but the door shuts and they don't hear him. A short time later he is taken to another area, fingerprinted, searched again and put in another cell to wait. Also in the cell with him is a young man no older than seventeen or eighteen. He appears very frightened and Frankie, feeling bad for him, attempts to start a conversation, the boy however avoids eye contact and will not speak to him. After a several attempts Frankie gives up. A while later two guards come and take him away. Later a guard brings Frankie a ham and cheese sandwich and a container of coffee. Frankie asks him if he knows what the problem is with the kid they took away. The guard says his understanding is that the kid is schizophrenic and is accused of brutally killing his whole family because, he says, his real family was replaced by aliens and they were plotting to kill him. The kid looked so normal, it is difficult for Frankie to believe it.
After sitting awhile, Frankie tries reading from a pocketbook he has brought with him, but then has to get up and move around, as his back and legs have begun hurting from sitting on the hard narrow bench for so long. After what feels like an interminable amount of time, they finally come and take him to the jail holding area below the court referred to as the “Tombs,” there, they again go through his stuff, this time taking his razor and blades.
“How am I gonna shave?” asks Frankie.
“Don't worry about it, I'm sure you'll figure something out,” says the guard, sarcastically. They then place him in a large holding cell with several other inmates also headed for Rikers. Three young Hispanics congregate in one corner of the cell, speaking Spanish among themselves. In another part of the cell five men of varying ages gather and play dice with improvised dice made from sugar cubes. There are occasional roars from this group as a point or a crap-out is made.
A huge, muscular man, looking to be in his forties with a face that looks like it was chiseled from a chunk of rock, sits in one corner away from everyone else, reading a book. He wears a tight-fitting crimson tee shirt that emphasizes his huge, tattooed, biceps. He barely looks up as Frankie is placed in the cell.
Frankie moves to a bench on the far side of the cell away from everyone else where he sits in quiet misery for he has had to urinate for several hours. Getting desperate now, he looks around for a bathroom. His only source of relief, he notes, is a toilet bowl that is openly situated against one wall of the cell. Frankie is a stickler for privacy but he is not able to hold it any longer and moves across the room to the filthy, seat-less metal toilet which happens to be located close to where the big man sits. As he begins to relieve himself, the big man lowers his magazine.
“If you get any piss on the floor, wipe it up. I hate the smell of piss,” he says and goes back to reading.
Frankie carefully finishes and goes back to where he was seated.
“What's your name, kid?” asks the big man, raising his eyes but not his head from the page.
“Frankie.”
Frankie, what?” he asks.
“Just Frankie,” Frankie curtly answers.
“Listen, 'Just Frankie,' I ain't the enemy. I really don't give a fuck who you are. Fact is, if this is your first trip to the rock, and from the looks and sound of you I think it is, I might be able to help you make it a smooth ride.”
“Really? How?—-and why?” asks Frankie, warily.
“You're a suspicious little fucker, ain't ya? I just figure one hand washes the other on the inside, I do you a favor, you do me a favor, that's all. The first thing you're gonna run into on the inside when they see you're new, is guys wanting to take you under their wing, and not for good reasons. Now, what's your name?”
Frankie hesitates, “Fiore, Frankie Fiore,” he says.
“I thought that's who you are, Frankie Fiore. You're the guy who got Jimmy Nose sent up, ain't you? My friend, you not only got a problem, you got a big problem. You're a snitch—-Next to a child molester, those guys in there hate snitches.”
Frankie's breath catches in his throat as a rush of fear races through his body. Although he was told to expect it, to now hear someone inside verbalize it, suddenly makes it real.
“What about you, how do you feel about it?” asks Frankie.
“About what?—-you mean, being a snitch? I don't know Jimmy Provitera from shit, so I don't have an opinion. I'll save my opinions until I get to know you.”
“You says you could help me, uhh...? asks Frankie, reaching for a name.
“Reno, call me Reno,” says the big man.
“What do I need to know?” asks Frankie.
“How much time are you doing?” asks Reno.
“Eighteen months.”
“What for?”
“Loansharking and racketeering,” says Frankie.
“Really Frankie, you only got eighteen months for loansharking and racketeering. Who did you grease?” asks Reno.
“Nothin' like that. It was a plea bargain deal for giving up Jimmy.”
“I forgot about that.”says Reno
Somehow, Frankie feels comfortable telling Reno the history of his involvement with Jimmy, his befriending of Biff, the beating his father took, the support of his family, how he met Peggy and Jana and the shootout in North Carolina.
“How about you, what are you here for?” he asks.
“Drug possession, a year.—-If you want some good advice, the first thing you gotta do when you get to the island is ask for protective custody in a cell of your own. They don't want you stabbed or killed, so they'll do it.”
“You got a way with words.” says Frankie.
“I'm telling you like it is,” says Reno.
“I know, I know, sounds like good advice. You seem to know a lot about this place, you been here before?”
“Yeah, this is my second stretch. I did a year a while back for the same reason.”
Anything else I should know?” asks Frankie.
Reno strokes his chin, deliberating.
“There are some good people in there and there are some you're better off stayin' away from. When you're in the general population out in the yard, just stay by yourself, read your books and you'll be okay,” he says.
“You sound pretty educated, so what are you doin' here?” asks Frankie.
“Yeah, I guess you could say I'm educated, but that doesn't mean I'm smart, it just means I'm educated. I grew up near Waco Texas. I got good grades and played decent football in high school, in fact I got a football scholarship to Clemson where I proceeded to fuck up my life by dickin' around, doin' drugs, drinkin' and generally screwin' up. I never made the varsity, but I did manage to graduate with a BA degree—-Lotta good it did me,” says Reno
Frankie nods his head in acknowledgment.
“Sometimes bad shit has to happen before the light bulb goes off in your head,” he says. “My old man was in the life but he got out. He tried to steer me in the right direction, but I thought I knew it all,” says Frankie as he looks wistfully at his surroundings. “This is the price I'm paying—-Is it okay I hang with you when we get inside?”
“As long as you don't hang on my sleeve,” says Reno.
“What does that mean?” asks Frankie.
“You know, up my ass every minute.”
“Gotcha,” says Frankie.
“Why don't we get a little sleep, it's going to be a long day tomorrow. In case I don't get the same bus you do, I'll look for you on the island, you do the same,” says Reno as he bunches up some clothes for a pillow and stretches out on the narrow bench.
Frankie follows suit on a nearby bench. He has a problem falling asleep, though, as thoughts of Peggy, his family and the fact that he would not see the outside for a year and a half go through his mind. He finally dozes off and dreams of his rented cottage, Peggy and breakfast at Danny's Diner in Dunnville North Carolina..
***
At the entrance to the bridge the billboard reads: CITY OF NEW YORK -—CORRECTIONS DEPARTMENT, RIKERS ISLAND -—HOME OF NEW YORKS BOLDEST
Frankie stares despondently through the metal grating of the bus window as the Department of Corrections vehicle makes it's way over the East River span between Queens and Rikers Island, his home for the next eighteen months.
Boarding the prison bus at Queens Plaza, Frankie had quickly searched through the inmates for Reno's big face, to no avail.
Rikers Island, the world's largest penal colony, is set on an island in the middle of the East River, six miles from the Empire State Building and about 100 yards from a runway at New York's LaGuardia International Airport. The island has ten individual jails and approximately 15,000 inmates at any given time. Rikers Island was originally an eighty seven acre farm owned by a Dutch family by the name of Rychen. Since the jail first opened in 1935 it has been expanded by landfill to four hundred fifteen acres.
It is a beautifully clear morning. Across the river, the rising sun casts a golden light on the New York skyline. The movement of the bus causes intermittent flashes of blinding sunlight to reflect from the many skyscraper windows facing the river—-Midtown Manhattan, so near and yet so far.
A terrifying feeling of dread begins to steadily rises within Frankie. A feeling that for the next year and a half he will no longer have control of his own life, control over when to eat, when to sleep, when to go the the bathroom. A dread of having to associate and deal with perverts, rapists, murderers and con artists, knowing that soon upon arriving he would need to make an alliance with the alpha inmates, with the hope that Reno will be one of them or his life at Rikers will be a horror. How in the world did it come to this, thinks Frankie as he looks at the restraints on his wrists?—-“Frankie,” his father, Louie had admonished him, “Don't get involved with Jimmy Provitera, he's trouble.” and trouble he was. Frankie wants to cry.
The bus makes it's way down the “off ramp” on to Rikers Island and deposits its cargo of shackled humanity at the receiving room. Several bus-loads had preceded Frankie's and the receiving room is teeming with humanity in bondage. Frankie and the others gets off the bus and are brought through a door into a room with cages and told to stand behind a red line that is a few yards from a doorway. An angry looking, red-faced corrections officer shouts at him, “How many crimes are you charged with?”
“Two” says Frankie.
“Two?” shouts back the guard, skeptically. He shakes his head as he examines a sheet he holds in front of him.
Noting his doubt, Frankie says. “There were a lot of counts, but they were reduced in a plea bargain,”
“Who the fuck asked you? Shut the fuck up, you asshole,” shouts the red faced guard, even louder. “Understand this. You do any of that shit in here, I'll take you out in back and shoot you. You understand me?” he asks.
Frankie doesn't answer and gives a weak smile, not sure if the man is joking.
His face purple with rage, the man goes nose to nose with Frankie.
“Wipe that fuckin' smile off your face, idiot. I swear to God I'll shoot you right here,” he says.
Frankie is a bit unnerved by this obviously unhinged individual and doesn't say anything, he just stares back at him.
Later he is put into a large dirty cell which is already overcrowded to the point there is no space on the benches to sit. Frankie has been on his feet since he got off the bus early this morning. It is now late afternoon and his back is hurting bad. He doesn't know what he'll do when he isn't able to stand anymore. It is then, he hears a deep booming voice call his name from the far side of the cell.
“Hey Fiore.”
Frankie turns to see a large head that stands a foot higher than anyone around him.
“Don't move, I'll be right there,” he says.
Frankie chuckles. He couldn't move if he wanted. Reno plows through the inmates blocking his way, moving them in every direction like duck pins until he arrives at Frankie's side.
“Did you miss me?” he asks.
“Yeah, where ya been?”asks Frankie.
“Took in a movie down in Times Square -—Why ain't ya sittin'?” he asks.
Frankie looks around. All the benches are fully occupied. On one bench, however, three grungy characters take up the whole bench where normally five or six men could sit.. One of them is stretched out, feet up, reading a newspaper. The other two face each other as they play gin rummy with the cards on the bench between them.
“No room,” says Frankie.
“I'm sure two little guys like us can squeeze in someplace,” says Reno.
Space on the card player's bench quickly opens up when Reno looks down at the occupants and quietly says:
“Move!”
***
In the ensuing days, weeks and months, doing the time is easier than Frankie had feared, mainly because of Reno. Everyone who has contact with Frankie gets to know very quickly he is Reno's bro and not to mess with him, lest they have Reno to face.
Frankie's parents, Connie and Louie, never miss a visiting day. Connie is always certain to bring Frankie's favorite Italian dish or dessert, which Frankie shares with Reno and the boys. Every time he sees his father's reconstructed face though, he can't help feeling the guilt of being responsible for the terrible beating Louie took on Jimmy Provitera's orders. In Frankie's mind, Jimmy has not yet paid for this foul deed.
Living in North Carolina makes it difficult for Peggy and Jana to visit Frankie very often. When they do come, Louie and Connie graciously allow them to stay at their home in Brooklyn. Jana, always jubilant and positive on their visits, is a joy. Peggy on the other hand, continues to have reservations about her relationship with Frankie. Although she says she loves him, it seems it is extremely difficult for her to come to terms with and accept the fact that Frankie is a changed man; that he is no longer in the life and will never go back to the life. The memories of the assault on her home by Jimmy's goons, however, continues to haunt her. Having infrequent visits, with a window between them and a few minutes to talk, makes communicating that much tougher, but Frankie tries, because of his love for Peggy.
Reno's close friends on the inside are a league of nations, black, white and brown from every strata of life, six in total who have become Frankie's friends also. Though this bunch dominates the prison yard, they are seldom the cause of violence, they are more likely to deter it. They are all short-termers, with only one, having longer than eighteen months to serve and are as colorful as their names. Baldy, Chichita, Rossi, Clem, Dell and Junior.
In the twelve months Frankie spends at Riker's Island while Reno is there, they get to know each other very well—-as well as two dissimilar people can. In fact they become known by the corrections officers as Riker's “Odd Couple.”
Although Reno recommends Frankie ask for protective custody to defend against possible harassment from inmates, he decides against it, for it would prevent him from having yard time, the only time he is able to congregate with Reno and the others. It is that time, that makes Rikers bearable, the time he enjoys most. Right now yard time is 10 -11 AM and during this hour the boys gather near the bathrooms and water fountain every day, this is their spot.
This day Frankie rushes to return a book to the prison library and makes his way back quickly to the yard. Yard time is precious time and he doesn't want to waste any of it. The others are there when he arrives. Today's discussion is already in progress and is about finding work at the end of their stay at Rikers. Baldy is telling of his experience as a printer, explaining how he worked for several months for a counterfeiter. He isn't sure this will qualify him for a job, however.
***
A year passes quickly and Frankie is justifiably concerned because Reno is soon to leave prison upon completing his sentence. Frankie has spent a relatively calm year in Reno's shadow, but now wonders if the immunity from harassment he has enjoyed will continue or will he be subject to what he feared most about his incarceration, being picked on by characters in the prison population looking to make a name for themselves by hassling someone with a reputation, someone like him. The day of Reno's release is an emotional day for Frankie, he's isn't sure Reno feels the same. He isn't going to ask him.
“This is my cell phone number, when you get a chance, call me,” says Reno handing Frankie a scrap of paper.
Frankie realizes that being able to make that call may be tough; access to public phones are at a premium at Rikers.
“In any case,” continues Reno, “definitely call me when you get out. I mean it, bro.”
“No two ways about it,” says Frankie.
Reno gives Frankie a guy hug.
***
In the remaining six months of Frankie's sentence, things change little, however Reno's absence creates a void, that losing such a large presence, both physical and mental, brings. He misses the prison prestige that hanging with Reno gave him. The fact that “Reno's six,” remained friendly to him after Reno left, guarantees that the remainder of his stay at Riker's would be, if not pleasurable, at least tolerable.
That day, the day of his release finally comes. He says his goodbye's to the Reno six, making promises to keep in touch and wishing each other the best.
Upon his release from Riker's, Frankie Fiore is not the same person and everyone who knows him says it. He returned from Rikers Island a changed man, definitely not better, not worse, just changed.
***
CHAPTER 7
At the Cropsey Avenue exit, Frankie pulls off the Belt parkway and checks the time on the dashboard digital clock. It's near closing time at his father's shoe shop. He cruises slowly down the avenue looking for a space that is not too far from the shop. He finds one a half block away and considers himself lucky as he backs into it.
Trying to decide if he has enough time, he removes Biff's envelope from his pocket and holds it in his hand. He is reluctant to open it. He equates reading it, to reading a will and he isn't ready for that yet. He isn't ready to say goodbye. He can't believe that this person, this larger than life being is about to die. He taps the envelope a few times with his fingertips and is about to put it back in his pocket, but instead compulsively rips it open.
The envelope contains several loose-leaf pages. Frankie unfolds the pages and flattens the creases. He examines the writing which is in pencil. It is scrawly and primitive. The penmanship and spelling is equivalent to that of a third grader. It is not dated. He begins to read.
“Frankie,
Imagin, I'm on earth almost 60 years and the only one I can trust with this favor is you., go figiur. That was a little joke, ha ha.. Anyways, this is the situasion. About twenty years ago I hooked up with this broad., her name was Lyla. I was with her for a lotta years. She was an okay broad, as broads go, but like everything in this world,it had a begining and an end, you see, she was a druggy and one day when I wasn't there she overdosed and choked to death on her own vomit. Nice huh?
I guess I liked her more than I thought, because you see, I miss her alot, go figur.
Now comes the clincher.. You see me and her we had a kid together back then, a boy, a kid she named Marcus, Marcus Potwin. She woodn't give him my last name. What kind of fuckin' name is Marcus Potwin? Anyways, here comes the problem. You see, after she died and until I was convicted, I was lookin' after the kid. I Sent money every month, but now, for the last year since I been up here at Sing Sing, he's been more or less on his own. He's really not a kid anymore he just turned seventeen. I don't think he believes I'm his old man, he thinks I'm an uncle or... I really don't know what the fuck he thinks. You really can't figure out these kids today The problem is he's living with this other kid now, in the Bronx. I'm thinkin' that if somebody don't look after him he's gonna screw up and... I don't know, ruin his life or something. Anyways, I need somebody to look after him. Get the pitture?
So far this deal sounds like a loser to you, right? Well I'm gonna sweeten the pot. Here's the payoff. Years ago I came into a jackpot, I figure maybe close to a million bucks. So the deal is, I give you most of this stake, and you take care of the kid until he's legal. Sound better? The only hitch is... I want you to put a quarter of it away for the kid in one of those annewity accounts until he's 25. You gotta promise you'll do that.
This kitty is put away in a safe place and I'm the only one who knows where it is.
Taped inside the envelope this letter came in, is a key. The key to the wealth. When you call me to tell me you'll do it, I'll tell you where it is and how to get it..
Talk to you soon, kid
Biff”
PS The name and address of the kid hes living with, is Winston Fleer and he lives in Parkchester, 1704 Tremont Avenue, Bronx NY, apartment 7F.
Frankie remains seated in the car, dumbfounded by Biff's letter. A million dollars! He rereads the letter. A million dollars! He can hardly believe it. Where did Biff get a million dollars? he asks himself. Removing the key from the inside of the envelope he holds it between his fingers for a few seconds, then pocket's it. He gets out of his car and stands looking around for a moment taking in the activity of the neighborhood where he grew up. Though he has been absent from the area for only a few years, the community is already feeling alien to him, like he doesn't belong here anymore. He walks down the street to his father's shoe shop. He notes that the front window lettering has been redone and the front door has been replaced. His brother Ray had to destroy it to reach their father who was badly beaten and mutilated almost to the point of death by Jimmy Provitera's goons, Max and Sonny. As he opens the door a buzzer announces his presence. Louie, who is busy sorting repaired shoes behind the counter, looks up at the sound.
“The buzzer's new,” announces Frankie.
“Frankie,” proclaims Louie as he drops the shoes, wipes his hands and comes around the counter. “How are you, son?” he asks.
Frankie, who hasn't seen his father in almost a year, has not come to grips with his father's surgically reconstructed face. Not that he's repulsive or ugly, it's just not his father's face -—the face he grew up with.
“Hello, Pop, how are you?” Frankie asks as he embraces Louie and kisses him on the cheek.
“I'm good, Frankie, doin' good. Do you see who's here?” Louie asks, motioning toward the figure working at the shoe lathe.
Frankie takes a closer look. “Holy shit. Is that you, little brother?” he asks.
“Hello, Frankie,” Ray comes out from behind the counter wiping his hands on a dirty rag. He offers Frankie his hand.
“Don't touch me with that dirty thing,” says Frankie in jest. “I don't believe it, the Wall Street lawyer fixing shoes,” he says.
“I'm on vacation, so I thought I'd give Pop a hand,” says Ray.
“I pity the poor bastards who get your handiwork,” says Frankie.
“Cut it out Frankie, Ray's doin' a good job.” says Louie.
“It's okay, Pop, I'm used to it ,” says Ray, “What were you doing up at Sing Sing, making a reservation?” he asks.
“That's not funny, don't make sick jokes,“ says Louie
“It's a long story, Ray and I don't want to get into it right now,” says Frankie, testily. Ray is taken aback by Frankie's retort—-Frankie's scowl turns to a grin—-I'm messin' with you,” he says. “I got a call early in the morning a couple of days ago. It was an intern at the hospital in Sing Sing. He told me that Biff asked to see me. He wasn't doin' good and he knew it. I guess he figures the end is near. We were pretty close for awhile so I wanted to make sure I got to see him before... you know.”
Ray nods, “Yeah... How does he look?”
“You remember him, right? Big burly guy, muscular, big belly? Well, if saw him now you wouldn't recognize him, he's skin and bones,” says Frankie
“I liked Biff. The only guy in Jimmy's mob that I can say that about,” says Louie.
“That's not the end of the story. I got something important I have to talk to you about, Pop.” says Frankie
“Yeah? What is it Frankie?” asks Louie.
“I'll tell you later at home, after dinner,” says Frankie.
“Must be heavy stuff,” says Ray.
Frankie feigns a jab at Ray who takes a defensive stance.
“You got a little bigger and heavier little brother, but I can still knock you on your ass,” says Frankie
“Maybe and maybe not” says Ray.
“Whoa, big talk,” says Frankie.
***
Louie locks up as Frankie and Ray wait in front of the store. The five oclock rush hour is well under way as they make their way down busy Cropsie Ave. A New York Transit train rumbles on the overhead elevated as it heads for Manhattan or the Bronx.
“Where's your car parked, Pop?”asks Frankie.
“What car?” asks Louie. “I don't drive to work. It's a nice walk from here.”
“Well, I have a car so we're gonna drive, c'mon,” says Frankie.