CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

 

 

Tommy kissed his wife goodnight, mostly out of habit. He didn't like her much anymore nor did she care for him. She found him revolting, but they were devout Catholics and had learned to tolerate each other over the years. Tommy left. He said he was going for a drive, but she knew he wouldn't be back until morning. It was fine with her.

The snow was pretty bad, but he didn't care. He needed to think. Since the day he gutted his first scumbag for finking to the cops, he had wanted to be the boss. Now it wasn't so much fun anymore.

Killing came easy to Tommy. He viewed it as a gift. He remembered watching other guys get their first kill. They would be shaken up, trying to hide it and look tough, but wanting to get sick. He always knew that when it was his turn, he would be much stronger.

Tommy drove along through the snow and remembered those early days. At 19, there were but a few broken arms on the resume. He was eager to get his chance and would often daydream about what it was going to be like. He pictured the look on the guy's face. He could hear him begging for his life. Tommy would let him go on for a bit and maybe let the poor bastard think he had a chance, then 'bang' right in the forehead. Other guys would make them turn around first and shoot them in the back of the head, but not Tommy. He wanted to look the guy in the eyes.

His first kill hadn't gone at all like he had imagined it would.

Jimmy, his first boss and, as it would later turn out, his 22nd kill, called him into the office. "I need you to go take care of that Polack on 82nd Street; the one with the dry cleaners. He has some unfortunate debts, and we gonna make an example of him. You know the guy?"

Tommy knew who it was and couldn't wait. Three other guys, much older, went along, but Tommy was to pull the trigger. It was a test. The guys gave him a hard time about 'bustin his cherry.' Tommy just sat in the back and took it because that was part of the deal. They laughed, betting on whether his hand would shake before pulling the trigger, and one guy joked he might wet himself.

When they mentioned the gun, Tommy felt sick. His gun wasn't loaded. He had been cleaning it when Jimmy called and had left the bullets at home. The rest of the drive he tried to figure out what to do. He couldn't ask for bullets; the ridicule would be unbearable. If he did, he was sure they would start calling him 'Tommy Blanks' or something like that. It was the sort of nickname he would never be able to wipe off.

He was still thinking about it when they arrived at the apartment. The four of them walked in, and the man turned white. The three older guys started talking about how he owed them money and his time was up. He pleaded for his life. They laughed. After a while, the moment arrived. Tommy didn't hesitate. He took a heavy kitchen knife and, standing behind the guy, reached around and plunged it into is gut. The man gasped. Tommy wrapped him in a bear hug. When the final shudder passed, he lifted him up on his shoulder and said, "Let's go."

The three old guys were stunned. They just stood there looking at this kid, his pants covered in blood and his shoulder turning crimson. One of them finally said, "Tommy 'The Knife' just popped his cherry."

The other two roared and patted him on the back. The name stuck.

Tommy walked up to his girlfriend's apartment and pounded three times. She was on the couch sleeping, and the radio was on. She said sleepily, "Coming." She opened the door. She was wearing a silk robe, loosely tied. He wandered in, feeling anxious, and went straight for the bar. She followed him and wrapped her arms around his chest, "You came over to visit me. I love a surprise visit."

"You're my girl." He dropped a couple of ice cubes into the glass and poured the scotch, his mind still thinking about the journal. "What you been up to, doll?"

"I was listening to the radio but fell asleep. You want to take me dancing?"

"Nah, we staying in tonight. I got some thinking to do."

She knew better than to ask about his business, so she went into the kitchen to make him something to eat.

Tommy knew what his next move was; he didn't need to discuss it with Sal. He would send some of his boys out in the morning. Once it was set right in his head, he relaxed. His girl brought him a sandwich. They sat on the couch for a while, then went to bed.