“Who called?” Mike asked as he came into the kitchen.
Della stepped over to the sink, began rinsing the dishes. “Just one of those calls. Somebody selling something.”
“What this time?”
Della thought fast. “Insurance.”
“Insurance?” Mike said doubtfully. “I didn’t think insurance companies did any telemarketing.”
“I guess some of them do,” Della said weakly.
“I thought you might have a secret admirer.” Mike drew her into his arms.
She laughed. “You’d know it if I did.”
His eyes drifted away, and she knew that he was staring at the wifeless home across the cul-de-sac. “Well, it took Tony by surprise, didn’t it?”
She abruptly drew herself from his arms. “Sara didn’t have a… she wasn’t doing anything like that.” She turned back to the sink. “I mean, some other guy.”
“How do you know that, Della?”
She picked up a plate, began moving a yellow sponge over its floral surface. “I just know, that’s all.”
Mike’s large hands gripped her shoulders, turning her to face him. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Della answered, but saw instantly that he didn’t buy it.
“Della, what do you know about this? Did Sara talk to you?”
“No.”
“Did Tony?”
“Tony? ’Course not. I don’t know anything, Mike. Really.”
He considered this briefly, then said, “Okay,” but in that voice that meant “for now.”
She smiled and quickly changed the subject. “I’m going to drop Nicky off at my mother’s this afternoon. Then a little shopping.”
“Okay,” Mike said. He kissed her lightly, then went back upstairs, grabbed his jacket, and came tromping down again, the jacket slung over his right shoulder.
“I’ve got an early tee-off time,” he said as he headed out the door.
“Have a nice day,” Della called to him, though no longer sure she herself would ever have another. After a moment she heard the car as it backed down the driveway. From the kitchen window she could see Mike as he drifted into the cul-de-sac then drove away, and this entirely familiar scene suddenly struck her as infinitely precious, something that had seemed so sure and firm before but now gave off a sense of being terribly at risk.
EDDIE
He didn’t like it, but he had to do it. When you were a guy’s friend, you helped that guy out. And so, with no further consideration, he picked up the phone and dialed the number.
“Caruso.”
“Vinnie, it’s Eddie. It’s been a while, huh?”
“Since what?”
“Since we seen each other.”
“I was down at the marina a couple weeks ago.”
Caruso was right, and Eddie thought it was pretty stupid how he’d said it had been a while when it really hadn’t. He thought fast and said, “Yeah, but we didn’t really have time to talk, you know. So, listen, I was thinking maybe we could have a drink sometime. I mean, like tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“Yeah.”
There was a pause, during which Eddie tried to imagine what Caruso was thinking.
“Eddie, let me ask you something,” Caruso said finally. “You okay?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I mean, that little shit fire you, something like that?”
“Little shit?”
“That little shit you work for. Fucking Tony. Did he fire you is what I’m asking.”
“No.”
“ ’Cause if he did, I could do something about it, Eddie,” Caruso said. “ ’Cause Mr. Labriola, he trusts me, you know, like a son.”
“Tony didn’t fire me,” Eddie told him. “How come you think that?”
“ ’Cause I figure you want to see me ’cause you need a little cash, maybe.”
“Oh, no, it’s not that.”
“But, Eddie, if you need cash, you don’t come to me like you would some fucking shylock, you know? You come to me like a friend.”
“I don’t need money, Vinnie.”
“You don’t need money?”
“No.”
“So, what do you need, Eddie?”
Eddie sensed that the phone was not the best place to tell Caruso what he was after. A guy would say okay to a certain kind of favor over the phone, but there were favors that called for a guy to really put something on the line, and when you asked for one of those, you needed to look the guy in the eye.
“I was thinking we might have a drink, Vinnie. I could tell you then.”
“And it don’t have to do with money?”
“Money, no. It ain’t about money.”
The fact that it wasn’t about money seemed to put Caruso on alert.
Eddie tried to ease his mind. “It ain’t nothing bad, Vinnie. Nothing to worry about. Just a favor.”
“Okay,” Caruso said. “Where you want to meet?”
“How about Billy’s Grill?”
Caruso laughed. “Jesus, Billy’s Grill. I ain’t been there in fifteen, twenty years.”
“But we used to hang out there, remember?”
“I remember. Especially that night when I was all… fucked up.”
Eddie recalled that night well. Caruso had gotten all steamed and decided to whack Rudy Kellogg for stealing Cindy Mankowitz even though Rudy had done no such thing and Cindy had gone out with Vinnie only once, and that on a dare from Kathy Myerson.
“I would have done it, you know,” Caruso said. “I would have done it if you hadn’t got that knife away from me.”
Eddie doubted that Vinnie would have done anything at all, but this didn’t seem the right time to say so. “So, Billy’s Grill?”
“Sure, okay.”
They settled on a time, then Eddie listened while Caruso boastfully jawed about the easy money he had and the big expensive things he bought with it. After that, Vinnie yapped away about the nightspots he preferred, and even claimed to have a few babes who just couldn’t get enough of him. Eddie doubted that any of this was true, and the fact that Vinnie felt compelled to spin such stories suggested that the awkward, orphaned kid he remembered from his boyhood had been a better guy than the man Eddie was scheduled to meet at Billy’s Grill later in the day. It was because he’d gone to work for Old Man Labriola, he supposed. You couldn’t work for a guy like that and not have some of it rub off on you. It was like working in a coal mine, Eddie decided, only the black dust was on your soul. Too bad, he concluded when he finally hung up. Too bad Vinnie went that way.
SARA
The phone rang. She picked it up.
“Samantha?” a voice said. “Damonte?”
The guy, Sara thought, surprised, the guy at the bar. “Yes.”
“This is Abe, the guy owns the place that had the open mike deal last night? Morgenstern? We talked for a couple minutes?”
“Yes.”
“Well, the thing is, I liked the way you sang, you know? I liked it a lot.”
“Thank you.”
“So, I was wondering. Would you be interested in coming by again?”
“Coming by?”
“I’d like to talk to you about, maybe, developing an act, you know? For the bar, I mean. Would you… well… would you be interested in that?”
“Yes, I would,” she told him.
“Okay, so, when could you drop by?”
She thought of the brief conversation she’d had with the man the night before. He’d seemed easygoing, a guy who probably never got mad or snapped at anybody. A boss like that was what she needed, she supposed, because she was jumpy, on edge, always looking over her shoulder, felt in every heartbeat a little ache of fear. “Would this afternoon be okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, fine,” the man said. “How about two-thirty?”
“Okay.”
“See you then.”
She put down the phone and felt a little burst of hope. Not much, she admitted, but maybe just enough to get her through the day.