“About that… Can you do dis one favor for me? It’s just, you know… my kid needs shoes, shots, dresses, daycare.” Joey’s thick lashes are the envy of all the females in my family and when he lowers them half way, I would normally give in. However, in respect for my dying checking account, I stand my ground.
“Oh no, you cannot throw Kimmy at me.”
He grins. “It almost worked, though, right?”
“How about I put you on an installment plan. How much you got on you?”
I snatch the twenty he holds forth, open mySuds and Samapp, and shove it under his nose. “Sign here.”
After his index finger finishes scribbling, I click and hit save. While I’m getting paid, Rose taps on the window, indicating my break is over but I need a little more time.
I drop the cigarette in the gutter and wiggle five fingers at her. “Okay, spew. What happened and why do you need my help? Talk fast.”
His head shakes back and forth as he scratches. “Dis is da t’ing. You can’t tell anyone, especially my dad.”
Nodding, I pantomime zipping my mouth. “Think of this sidewalk as a confessional and me as Father O’Connell.”
His face skews. “Do I need to say penance?”
“Just hurry up.” I turn my back to the front of the building to avoid the flesh-burning glares of my Aunt Marion.
Oblivious to her supernatural ability, Joey waves and smiles. “Let’s say a guy…”
“Oh shit. You mean you, right?” I backstep toward the door.
“Dat’s what I said. So, dis one guy picked up a package and delivered it to dis other guy who insists the package is empty and claims the first guy stole what woz inside.”
I roll my eyes. “Can I assume the first guy told the second he didn’t steal anything?”
“Yeah, but the second told the first he needs proof or the first is dead meat. Capice?” He rubs his unshaven face, the dark circles under his eyes more apparent.
“C’mon now, Uncle Vinny wouldn’t kill you.” None of his story makes sense.
Glancing down, his hi-top sneakers shuffle on the sidewalk. “The package wasn’t for him. I was moonlighting for Little Tony.”
What the fuck?“Please don’t tell me you were working for Anthony Buonanno?” I moan as the pastry I ate gurgles in stomach acid.
“Actually, it was a job for his son.” He nods with this hangdog look on hs face and I give him a hug.
“Don’t worry. I can help. Where was the pickup?”
“Queens. Corner of 59thand 60th.
I grab my cell phone, open up a map of the area, and sigh. “59thRoad, Avenue, Street or Place?”
“How da fuck do I know?”
My patience snaps. “Holy Mary Mother of God, Joey, how did you find the place?”
“I had directions written down, which I ate, as per their instructions.” He glances over my shoulder at the salon front door. No doubt it’s one of the blue-haired ladies hoping for another exclusive scoop.
In break overtime, with seconds left on the clock, I bark out my last questions. “What day was this?”
“Sunday.”
“Hour?”
“Dunno… In the morning, I guess it was around ten.”
