Sally Boy (36 page)

“That’s the way they wanted it. If you don’t
go, we can’t make the deal.”

“I don’t believe this. I’m a fucking dead
man.”

“Shut the fuck up, you motherfucking coward!
If you had any balls you coulda had your own crew, insteada riding
my fucking coattails all this time!” Brandishing his .45, Sal waved
it in Angel’s face. “You’re meeting Johnny Rocks at the No Name to
make our fucking deal. Understand?”

Angel could tell by the murderous look in
Sal’s eyes he had no choice. “Okay, Sal. No fucking problem. I’ll
make the deal!”

Reaching under the table, Sal pulled out a
sawed-off shotgun and tossed the weapon to Angel. “Take this as a
little insurance. Keep it under your overcoat when you walk in. If
they’re gonna make a move, it’ll happen then. Okay?”

“What if they don’t make a move?”

“What are you fucking stupid or something?
Then you tell ’em our terms.”

“What if they pat me down, man?”

“Just let ’em know you’re strapped. What the
fuck, Angel? You’re only there to make our deal. You’d have to be a
fucking moron to fuck this up. Just do what I told you to do.”

“Yeah, okay. I can do this. I’m not afraid.
But just for old-time’s sake, let’s get fucked up before I go.
Okay? You know, to take the edge off.”

“Why not?” Picking up a razorblade, Sal cut
two fat lines of cocaine.

“Besides, if I’m walking into the lion’s
den, I don’t wanna be feeling no pain if I get bit.” Angel rolled
up a hundred dollar bill and snorted the line.

* * * * *

Pulling into a parking space across the
street from the No Name Club, Angel turned off the motor. There was
no movement outside the bar or along the dark and desolate streets.
Only the glow of some inside lights could be seen as Angel craned
his neck struggling to see inside. “What the fuck am I doing here?
These ain’t my fucking people, man,” he mumbled to himself.

To boost his courage, Angel pulled out a
small glass vial full of white powder. He unscrewed the cap and
taped some of the powder onto the meaty portion of his hand,
between his thumb and pointer finger. “A little blow before I go.”
Angel laughed nervously, and then snorted the coke.

Angel cautiously made his way up to the
front door. Taking hold of the door handle, he silently prayed that
it was locked, but the heavy door flew open. As he stood there, his
mind raced as he debated whether or not to enter. Seconds felt like
minutes. Suddenly, perspiration soaked his brow and his heart
pounded. With a deep breath, Angel warily stepped inside.

Seeing a man sitting alone at a table, Angel
approached him. “I’m looking for Johnny Rocks. I’m Angel. Sally Boy
sent me.”

“I’m Johnny,” he replied.

Out of the corner of his eye, Angel saw a
large dangerous looking man in a black suit holding a pump-action
shotgun.

“You carrying?” Johnny asked.

Unnerved and distracted, Angel blurted,
“No!”

“I gotta pat you down anyway.” Johnny rose
from the chair.

Foolishly, Angel reached for the sawed-off
shotgun concealed under his overcoat.

“Grab him!” Johnny shouted.

Leaping from the shadows, two large men
jumped on Angel and wrestled him to the floor. One of the men
punched Angel several times in his midsection. After taking Angel’s
shotgun, they ripped him up from the floor and slammed him down
forcefully into a chair.

“You stupid motherfucking spic,” Carmine
stepped into the light. “You show up to a sit-down with a sawed-off
shotgun. Where do you get your fucking balls?”

“It was Sally Boy’s idea! Not mine,” Angel
cried out in a panic. “I just come here to...”

“Shut the fuck up!” Carmine slowly circled
behind Angel. Without provocation, Carmine exploded. He grabbed
Angel by his throat and violently choked him. “You’re dead! You
hear me, you fucking motherfucker!”

Angel fought to break free, but one of
Carmine’s new men jabbed Angel in his stomach with the butt of the
shotgun. Angel gasped for air until he managed to scream, “Don’t
kill me! I’ll do whatever you want! I swear!”

Releasing his grip, Carmine rapidly devised
a plan. “I’ve had enough of this fucking shit! It all ends
tonight!” Seizing a handful of Angel’s hair, Carmine jerked Angel’s
head back. “If you don’t do exactly what I want you to do. I
promise, when we get through with you, you’ll be fucking begging us
to kill you.”

“It’s your world. I’ll do whatever you
want,” Angel insisted breathing heavily.

“No, Carmine!” Johnny shouted bravely, as he
moved in on the action. “We made a fucking deal. I won’t be parta
this.”

“‘Parta this?’” Carmine stuck his pistol
directly in Johnny’s face. “You’re already fucking parta this. And
if you don’t do exactly what you’re told, I’m gonna stick your ass
in a hole nexta this fucking spic.”

“But Don Lucho promised...” Johnny
pleaded.

“I don’t give a fuck! I’m running this show
now.” Carmine slapped Angel across the head and got into his face.
“You’re gonna make my fucking deal. Understand?”

“Whatever you say, man!” Angel readily
agreed as he rubbed his throat.

“I’m gonna need to speak to you alone,
Rocks. I got something I need you to do. Come with me,” Carmine
insisted.

Johnny hesitantly followed Carmine into the
kitchen.

* * * * *

Having closed several hours earlier, the
Jolly Tinker was almost completely dark. Only scant streams of
light from a street lamp entered through the front windows. Nearly
mad from lack of sleep, drugs, and drink, Sal struggled to
concentrate on any one thought.

His once lucid mind now played tricks on
him, manufacturing images and figures that weren’t there.
Nervously, Sal checked his watch: 4:02. “That fucking Rocks! I’m
gonna shoot him right in his lying fucking mouth,” Sal roared as he
picked up his .45 off the bar.

Wiping the sweat from his face with his
sleeve, Sal took a long drink from a bottle of Dewar’s. He reached
down under the bar and pulled out a small sugar bowl. Sal removed
the cover and hurled it across the room. He then dumped the
contents of the bowl onto the bar. Using a coaster, Sal cut a huge
line from the pile and snorted it.

Believing that he had heard a noise behind
him, Sal spun around fast, pistol in hand, prepared to shoot.
“Who’s there?” he shouted fiercely. Sal whipped his head
side-to-side scanning the entire bar. Suddenly realizing he was
alone, Sal broke out laughing with the crazed whimsy of a
psychopath. “There’s nobody here but me.”

Catching his reflection in the mirror behind
the bar, Sal could scarcely recognize the drug-crazed maniac
staring back. Once youthful and handsome, his face was gaunt and
drawn. Sal’s warm, sexy brown eyes that were in the past his most
endearing feature were now as empty as two piss holes in the snow.
His once strong body had been abused to the point of exhaustion.
Sweating and reeking of body odor, the former fashion plate’s
clothes were soiled and tattered.

The treasured photograph of Salvatore and
his family in front of the village church back in Sicily rested on
a shelf behind the bar. Partially illuminated by the street light,
Sal eyed the photo for several moments before picking it up. “You’d
all be proud of me if you could see me now. I’m gonna be the boss
soon,” he muttered unconvincingly.

Setting the pistol on the bar, Sal gently
cleaned the glass face of the frame with a bar rag. He then
carefully placed the photo back down next to the framed picture of
him standing with his father at his eighteenth birthday party. “I
got a plan, Pop. You always told me that the smart guys always got
a plan. I remember everything you taught me ever since I was a kid.
Here’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna get Chrissy back. I’ll tell her
I’m sorry. And I’ll even go into treatment like she wanted me to.”
Tucking his shirt back into his pants, Sal ran his fingers through
his messy hair. “We’ll finally have enough money to start a life.
We’ll get that big house in the country. Okay, Mom? You can come
live with us, too. I know Chrissy would love having you. Maybe
we’ll even get a dog. But I don’t want no cat. They’re sneaky
bastards.” Sal chuckled as he cut himself another line and snorted
it. Checking his watch again, he yelled impatiently, “Where the
fuck is Angel? He shoulda been back by now.”

A set of car headlights flashed through the
front window, prompting Sal to perk up. Squeaking brakes could be
heard as the vehicle came to a stop right outside. The car engine
fell silent and the headlights faded. Sal could hear a car door
open and then slam shut. Picking up his pistol, Sal stated,
unafraid, “If it’s going down...” he chambered a round “...let’s
get it over with.”

Positioning himself behind the bar, Sal
heard shoes walking on the concrete sidewalk leading up to the
entrance. “Come and get it, motherfuckers,” Sal threatened.

The front door slowly creaked open but Sal
couldn’t see who it was. Pointing his weapon at the shadowy figure
in the doorway, Sal sounded out, “Smith, that you?” But there was
no answer. “Who the fuck is it? Who’s there?”

“Don’t shoot! It’s, Angel,” an unsure voice
called from the dark.

“Angel, that really you?” Sal shouted with
relief.

“Yeah, Sal, it’s me.”

“Holy shit, Angel! I almost fucking shot
you. How many times does that make? For a second there, I thought
my ass was in big fucking trouble.”

Laying his pistol down on the bar, Sal took
a long drink of scotch and set the bottle down on the bar. “What
the fuck took you so long? You don’t wanna know the horrible things
I thought they did to you.”

With a trembling hand, Angel grasped the
bottle and gulped down several mouthfuls of scotch. “The
negotiations was pretty fucking hairy, man. That Carmine, he’s one
major fucking asshole.”

“You’re telling me. So, how’d it go?”

“It went beautiful, baby! Absolutely fucking
beautiful.”

“Well, what the fuck happened? Did we get
what we wanted or what?”

“We got everything.”

“Are you fucking serious? They agreed to all
our terms?”

“Shit, yeah!” Angel smiled. “What fucking
choice did they have?”

“Tell me what they said!”

“At first they was giving me a hard time.
You know, trying to scare me, and shit like that. That scumbag,
Carmine, even attacked me from behind and choked me, but your
friend Johnny, he pulled him offa me and got everything back under
control.”

“Johnny, huh? He’s a good man.”

“So I give the list of demands to Carmine.
He looks ’em over and goes fucking crazy. Carmine starts yelling
that we ain’t got no business asking for what we’re asking for, and
that we should be happy with any deal they offered. You know, shit
like that.”

“After everything settles down, I’m gonna
skin that cocksucker myself. Then what happened?”

“So I let him say what he’s gotta say, you
know, talk his shit. Then I calmly stands up and I sez, ‘If youse
wanna go to war with Sally Boy and me, that’s fine with us.’”

“You said that?” Sal laughed. “That’s
fucking beautiful.”

“So Carmine, he thinks about it for a
couplea seconds. Then he sez they got no problem with us working
under their flag. And we’re gonna get our own territory, too. We
won, hermano! I can’t believe we beat ’em at their own game.”

“We gotta celebrate,” Sal shouted with a big
grin. “This calls for the good shit. Cham-fucking-pagne! I think we
got some down here somewhere.”

Dropping down onto his knees, Sal rummaged
through the back of the beer cooler, carelessly knocking over beer
bottles. “They thought they could beat me in a street war. Nobody
wars like me. Veni, Vidi, Vici, just like, Caesar. Right,
Angel?”

Suddenly, the glow of happiness on Sal’s
face morphed into utter confusion. Every lesson he was taught about
the streets, and all the words of wisdom Peter bestowed upon him
since Sal was a young boy, clicked in his mind. The prophetic words
spoken by his father that, “No one could be trusted,” and, “It will
be someone you trust who gets you,” rang in Sal’s ears. “Wait a
minute! I don’t believe...” Scrambling back to his feet, Sal was
horrified to find Angel pointing a sawed-off shotgun directly at
his head. “...Oh no!” he whimpered softly.

Angel pulled the trigger, shooting Sal in
his face at pointblank range. Skull fragments and gray matter
splashed the wall and mirror behind the bar. Blood was everywhere.
Several droplets of Sal’s blood slowly ran down the glass covering
of his treasured photograph of himself and his family in front of
the village church in Sicily.

Lowering his weapon, Angel grinned. “Yeah,
just like, Caesar, motherfucker!”

A flash of metal reflected in the sparse
light behind Angel. The muzzle of a pistol was jammed to the back
of his head. A single shot rang out. Angel’s lifeless body fell
heavily to the floor. Johnny Rocks emerged from the shadows,
tucking his pistol into his shoulder holster.

Walking around to the other side of the bar,
Johnny looked down at Sal’s decapitated body. Overwhelmed by
sadness, he crossed himself. “I’m sorry things ended up like this.
But I never broke my promise. Nobody from the Mirragios touched
you.” Johnny’s sympathetic words quickly dissipated into the dark
quiet of the bar. “I’m gonna miss you, kid. See you on the other
side, Sally Boy.”

At a measured pace, Johnny walked toward the
entrance, stepped out onto the sidewalk, and closed the door behind
him.

* * * * *

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