“Say, boys,” called Father Littono.
They turned.
“You can tell me how you made out this Sunday — at nine o’clock Mass.”
“Sure thing, Father,” yelled Pete, and they ducked out before the echo thundered back at them.
They walked away from the Church, heading toward the Loop.
“Damn you,” barked Pete, after the two required blocks from the Church had been covered.
“I didn’t do nothin’,” Tony yelped.
“We coulda stood there longer if you didn’t haveta come. It’s cool in the Church.”
“I told you I couldn’t stay around the house.”
“Okay — okay.”
“Hey? You know something?” said Roachy. “Us being in Church and all I just remembered.” He waited for their “yeahs.”
“You know old man Stoki who owns the Gaytime Theater?”
“What about him?” said Tommy.
“He owns the burlesque joint on Water Street too.”
“I knew that,” said Pete.
“Yeah,” droned Roachy. “But he’s an usher in Church on Sundays.”
“How do you know?” sneered Tony.
“I was in Church once,” Roachy said, staring hard at Tony.
“Okay, so you were in Church,” grunted Pete.
“Don’t you get it?” Roach said excitedly. “That’s an angle, we could—”
“Blackmail him,” finished Pete. He thoughtfully slitted his eyes as he’d seen movie badmen do at sinister moments. Something could be done with this.
“Here’s what we do,” commanded Pete. “You, Roachy, since you thought of it can go and brace him.”
“Hell, no, he’ll call a cop.”
“On the ’phone, dummy, on the ’phone,” snapped Pete.
“That’s different,” mumbled Roachy.
“You just tell him,” continued Pete, “that if he don’t leave fifty bucks — no, make it a hunnerd — with the guy who’ll be near the fire exit near the alley tomorrow night, Father Littono will find out about his owning the cheap feeler.”
Roachy shook his head negatively his bright eyes eagerly seeking a similar attitude from his friends. “I ain’t got a nickel to phone with,” he said weakly.
“Jeez, are you yellow too?” growled Pete.
“I just ain’t got a nickel.”
Pete brought out his five pennies, handed them over. He pointed to a drug store half a block up the street. “We’ll be walking down the street. You catch up with us.”
They watched him hurry up the street.
Pete brought out his cigarette pack.
“I’ll light it for you,” offered Tony.
Pete broke the cigarette in half, giving pieces to Tommy and Tony. He lighted the remaining whole one. The smoke was a hot burst against his lungs.
Then Roachy joined them.
“What did he say?” asked Tony.
“Almost nothing.”
“About the money, the money?” growled Pete.
“He laughed at me.”
“What did he say?”
“I told him to have it or else.”
“Or else what?” snapped Pete.
“Or else I’d tell the priest.”
Pete’s face slowly turned skyward. “What did he say to that, Roachy?”
“He said he didn’t want to go to Church any more anyway.”
They regarded Pete silently for a full minute, then exploded into bursts of ragged laughter.
“What’s so funny?” growled Roachy.
“I’m going home and listen to the ball game,” choked Pete, trying to catch his breath. “What the hell... we ain’t got any money and Rock doesn’t know where to find us.”
“Yeah,” said Roachy, his lower lip savagely protruding. “But Fat Ovaki here can get nailed.”
Pete sobered. “Remember, Tony, no matter what time it is, if anybody comes looking for you, you let me know.” His lips relaxed with a smile. “Maybe Rock won’t come looking for you himself, see?”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Tony. “Okay, I get in touch with you if anything happens. Where will you guys be?”
“We’re all going home,” Pete said wearily.
“Yeah,” echoed Tommy and Roachy.
Tony raked them with hot, black eyes. “What if he does come looking for me. What do we do then? That’s what I’m worried about.”
“We take care of him,” said Pete.
“Okay.” Tony walked away. He turned once but they were walking off into different directions. He wondered if he could buy cigarettes in jail. He wished he’d went and bought the beer for his old lady...
The blistering rays of the sun twined through the railing of the back stairway as he made his way up to the flat.
His mother was drinking a cup of coffee. “He was here,” she said.
Somehow tears managed to trickle down his quivering cheeks. He blew his nose. “What did he want, Ma?”
“Said he had something personal to tell you.” She noisily gulped down some of the coffee. “He caught me guzzling beer. The fruit, he wouldn’t even have a drink with me. I told him you went out to the country.”
“Yeah, yeah. But what did he say?”
“That he had something personal to tell you.”
Tony ran his fingers over his fuzzy cheeks; the bones felt weak. He furiously tucked his shirt into the band of his dirty pants. “Is he coming back?”
“Said he’d try and locate you.”
“God.” The sweat swept to the base of his tightened jawline. “Was he a big guy, Ma?”
“Ya little runt, what did you steal?”
“I told you, I didn’t steal anything.”
“Then don’t try and trip me up by saying the guy was big.”
“Jeez, he sent one of his friends. Ma — Ma I gotta get outta town, gimme a couple of bucks.”
“Ain’t got it,” she said promptly. “But, Ma—”
“Get outta here. If you’re scared, what you want me to do?”
“But, Ma—”
“Nuts.” She picked up the coffee cup, dashed the contents into the sink, washed the cup with cold water, took the quart bottle of beer from the window ledge and slowly filled the cup.
He dashed out, went down the stairs, and ran through the alleyway; the sun didn’t reach the alley. The narrow confines of the back pathway lead to any destination — if you knew the right short-cuts.
He walked into a backyard, looked about carefully. Two dirty tots played in the adjoining yard, clothes fluttered from lines about him. He moved under the protection of the porch’s shading, reached between the bars, and knocked against the window pane of the basement flat.
Pete peered out. “Come on in, my old man’s working.”
Tony entered. “Some guy came looking for me, Pete.”
“Was it Rock?”
“No, my old lady said he wasn’t a big guy.”
Pete went to the radio and screwed it into silence. “Did your old lady keep quiet about you?”
“Yeah, she said I went to the country like I told her.”
Pete glared at his dirty fingernails. “Go to Green bow Street, you know, where all the factories are at. There’s an old trailer there, the one we used as a clubhouse before. Go inside, I’ll get Tommy and Roachy.”
“Don’t be long,” Tony said, quickly darting out.
Pete went out of the front entrance, walking swiftly, yet with an easy loose movement. He glanced in store windows to check his strides. He grinned; he was glad that he’d read that book telling about how tough adventurers walked — with quick, easy, effortless strides.
He moved up the stairway of a sturdy red brick building. “Oh Tommy,” he called.
Tommy materialized quickly in the doorway. “What’s happened, Pete?”
“Just go to the old trailer on Green-bow Street.”
“Okay... but?”
“Go on, get started,” ordered Pete. “I’m getting Roachy.”
Roachy answered his call and quickly they were moving toward Greenbow Street.