DESERT FANTASIES
Jack Scribe
Chapter 9, GOOD OLD GOLDEN RULES DAYS
A blinding, early September sun announced another
morning in the desert. But the two young men, weary from exploration and excitement,
never noticed the vanished darkness as they continued sleeping. Cray was momentarily
confused when he stirred and felt a warm body pressed closely to him. ‘Oh,
yeah,’ he remembered. ‘Henry.’ He smiled at the feeling of a now familiar,
firm organ parked between his buns as he scooted into a more comfortable position
and drifted back to a state of semi-consciousness. Later, he awoke with a
piss-hardon that flashed to his brain in glaring headlines – ‘I need to be
relieved’ – and sat up. His bedmate lay sprawled out in a similar condition
with one eye barely open. Cray scanned the body and was impressed that what
he was seeing matched what he had physically explored in the dark of the night.
“Morning,” Henry croaked as he opened the other
eye. He looked down at his wood and shrugged with a loopy smile.
“Hey, buddy. I just woke up too and gotta pee,
bad,” Cray replied as he got out of bed.
“If ya don’t mind, I’ll join you.” Henry rotated
around and stood.
“Hey, you’re my guest. I just don’t know if
our two boners will have room.”
“Somehow, we’ll find a way.” Henry gestured
for Cray to enter the bathroom. However, in the process they both made a mad
dash to the door at the same time. The two teens giggled as they squeezed
into the room.
And find a way, they did – albeit a little
messy. Between the snickering and dueling, they finished their task and returned
to the bedroom. Cray looked at the clock and noticed it was 9:00 a.m. When
he suggested that they could go over to the house for some breakfast, Henry
playfully tugged at Cray’s hanging member and asked if they had time to “crank
out another one” before they had some food.
“Do bears shit in the woods?” Cray replied
with a grin. “I wouldn’t mind trying that number thing again.” He could feel
himself rising to the occasion and noticed that Henry’s dick was in the same
condition.
“Hell, yeah.” Henry took Cray’s hand, pulled
him back to the bed and flipped around so the two were in position. “69’s
a fun way to wake up and get the juices goin’,” he added as he dove in.
*****
The remainder of the day and evening was a
mixture of fun and adventure for the two new, energetic friends. After dressing
and eating some ‘real’ food, the guys took a bus to The Strip and checked
out the casinos…as much as two teens legally could. It was more a time to
get to know each other and hang out. People watching was a bonus sidebar to
the tourist crawling they were doing. Cray swore he had never in his life
seen so many large people, waddling and ogling along the walkways. But swarms
of hot guys, visiting Las Vegas for the Labor Day weekend, more than compensated
for the constant onslaught of lard asses and beer guts. Both guys would laugh
and lightly hit each other when someone – man or woman – looked at them a
little longer than usual. The walking tour – from The Mandalay Bay to Caesars
Palace – helped define their version of the art of cruising and provided a
lesson in fine-tuning their ‘gaydar’.
Buffet dinner at Harrah’s was the culinary
highlight of the day. Although the food was a battle of quantity vs. quality,
both felt the prime rib, crab legs and Chinese food were as good as they had
ever eaten. Spike had given his younger brother a fifty-dollar bill to pay
for dinner and suggested the buffet would more than satisfy two perpetually
hungry teenagers. After eating through the lavish food spread for over an
hour, Cray suggested they continue down to the Stratosphere Tower for an evening
view from the top of the tall, needle-like building. Although it was tempting,
he knew better than to suggest they check out one of the thrill rides located
above the observation deck, after their big dinner. But he thought it would
be fun to see the bold, colorful Vegas skyline at night from this 900 ft.
perch and decided to treat Henry. It would be a first for both young men.
Another first – well, almost first – occurred
when they returned to Cray’s room shortly after 10:00 p.m. In 24 hours, the
two had been transformed from shy strangers to friendly confidants. Henry
admitted that Cray was the only guy he’d really ever “messed around with”
and satisfied orally. He also said he’d never fucked anyone…girl or guy…and
wasn’t too sure about the best way to do ‘it’.
They both removed their briefs while Cray admitted
to himself that he was technically a virgin when it came to slipping his dick
into a warm hole. He joked about the blind leading the blind, as he stood
naked before his new friend. They both tossed their briefs on the carpet and
moved towards each other. Cray ground his aroused cock into Henry’s hardness
as they held each other. The first kisses were more like ‘comfort food’ than
anything else. As much as he wanted this to be special, Cray knew that this
moment was primarily about satisfying a craving; two horny, compatible guys
wanting to get their rocks off. At the same time, it was an opportunity to
learn more about their sexuality without any risk of being criticized in their
performances.
“Henry, would you mind if we saved, you know,
screwing for another time? I…I’m not sure…if I’m ready for the next step yet.”
Cray looked into Henry’s eyes for some signal. He was relieved when Henry
warmly smiled back.
“I’m glad you said that cuz it doesn’t feel
like the right time for me, either. But I wouldn’t mind if we…kinda played
around back there with our…fingers.”
“What have you got in mind?” Cray asked as
his hand gently cupped Henry’s balls.
“Kind of explore each other. Spike told me
about the prostate that we need to know about and feel what happens when it’s
touched by someone other than yourself.”
“Yeah,” Cray replied with a long pause. He
didn’t want to let Henry know he’d had a similar conversation with Spike.
“That sounds okay. In fact, it’s brilliant. I’ve got some stuff – lube – to
help out. Guess we won’t need the rubbers,” Cray replied with a snicker. He
kissed Henry again – more of a reassuring peck – and nodded toward the bed.
“I’ll turn out the lights.”
“Um, would you mind leaving the small lamp
on? I’d love to take it slower tonight and be able to see what we’re doing.”
Henry scooted over to the center of the bed and watched Cray.
“Good idea. Watching a hot dude doin’ things
with me would be kinda neat.” The idea really turned Cray on but he wasn’t
prepared to say that just yet.
“My feelings exactly…dude,” Henry replied with
a snicker. “You’re pretty hot, yourself.”
“Great minds think alike.” Cray turned off
the overhead light and switched on the lamp. He opened the bedside stand drawer
and pulled out a bottle of Astroglide he’d bought at the local grocery store.
“Before you get in bed, why not grab a couple
of towels. If things get a little messy, we’ll have them handy to clean up
with,” Henry replied.
“Good point. Jeez, what are you…some kind of
queer boy scout?” Cray laughed and went to the bathroom.
“Man, when I think of all the opportunities
I may have missed at camp.”
“Think of this as an advanced session, camper,”
Cray said when he returned. He tossed two towels on the bed and joined Henry.
“Taking ‘be prepared’ to the next step.”
“Here’s something we could try. Why don’t we
give each other back massages? And when we get down to the butt, use some
lube and go up the chute. I’ll rub you down first, if ya want.”
“Yeah…I guess. Just let me know when you’re
going to…go inside. And ya gotta promise that if there’s any…dirt there…we
don’t rag on each other. Deal?”
“Maybe we should take showers or something
like that?” Henry asked.
“Buddy, we’re doing okay. Just be careful and
use the towel if ya need to.” Cray flipped over on his stomach, adjusted his
erection and slightly spread his legs.
“Let me know when something feels good. Spike
said that the prostate’s kind of a bump that’s wired to your dick. When it’s
worked just right…all kinds of good things are supposed to happen.”
And so it went in round two of Cray and Henry’s
sexual awareness education. It was a single finger evening and the anal part
of the massage did produce some interesting results. Each guy found the other’s
‘bump’ and experimented with feeling and probing the prostate. It was not
enough to totally excite an orgasm but the touching did flash ‘coming attractions’.
When the two quasi-fuck buddies fell asleep, the towels had served their purpose
on several occasions.
Next morning, by the time Spike was ready to
take Henry to the airport, Cray realized that he had been successful in relating
physically with another man. He wasn’t sure when he would venture into the
final frontier…but he knew that it would be with someone he trusted, and more
than simply liked. Henry fell into the ‘like’ category – but nothing more.
On the final goodbye hug, the two promised to call each other and rendezvous
in Vegas later in the fall. They traded wistful glances as Spike backed the
car out of the driveway.
After cleaning up his room very thoroughly,
changing the bedding and doing a large batch of dirty laundry, Cray headed
outside. He went through his workout routine, practiced Tai Chi disciplines
and swam laps in the pool for the better part of two hours. Satisfied that
he had honored his body ‘temple’ enough, Cray decided to break in his bike
and take an afternoon tour of the neighborhood. He also needed to decide on
the best route to get to school. ‘This is a great time to check out the high
school grounds and where to park the bike,’ he decided as he went back to
his room to change into street clothes. One last check of the city map and
he was ready to travel.
The house was still quiet when he pedaled away
down the street. Cray wanted to find out how long it would take to get from
the house to the school. He thought maybe he’d bike over to Drew and Bob’s
place just to get a ‘lay of the land’ after checking out the school area,
but before returning to Mario’s house. The guys had apologized for not planning
anything for Labor Day that included him; they were both working at the hotel.
‘No cookouts today,’ he thought as he rode through the neighborhood towards
the school. The warmish afternoon had a distinct aroma of charcoal grills
cooking beef and chicken, some even with the enticing aroma of mesquite, or
hickory. Every so often, he’d come by a street crowded with cars parked at
a particular house. Adults would be milling around, beers in hand, while younger
kids played.
When he arrived at the high school campus,
Cray was immediately impressed by the size and architecture…and amused that
the school mascot was an alligator. ‘How the heck did they choose something
like a ‘gator’ for a school in the middle of the desert?’ He stopped his bike
and looked at his watch. ‘15 minutes,’ he thought. ‘Not bad, and I was moving
at a leisurely pace.’ He saw a parking lot and figured the bike racks were
probably located somewhere nearby. At the far end of the lot, there were several
cars and some bikes locked in a rack. ‘Wonder why there are people here on
Labor Day?’ As he rounded a corner of the building, the answer became obvious:
the football team was practicing.
Cray slowly rode over to the sidelines and
stopped by a couple of teens who were watching the scrimmaging. One guy, standing
by himself, was taking notes. Cray figured they were all about the same age.
‘Maybe he’s in my class?’ The guy, with short brown hair, was a little shorter
than Cray but seemed just as muscular. Cray dismounted the bike and walked over to him. “Hi. Would you
mind me asking why the team is practicing today?” he asked of the note taker.
“Hey,” the other guy said as he turned his
head slightly. “Our first game is this coming weekend and coach thought the
team needed extra practice before everyone goes to pig out at the barbeques.
They’re about to quit because of the heat. Oh, I’m Tim Woods. You go to school
here? I don’t recognize you.”
“Cray Gamble.” He put his hand out and was
happy that Tim acknowledged it with a brief shake. “I just moved to Vegas
from Utah. Transferring into the junior class.”
“Cool. I…just a minute,” Tim said as the offensive
team broke huddle and ran through a play. As soon as the runner was tackled,
Tim scribbled more on his notebook. “I’m a sports reporter for the school
newspaper and need some updates for this week’s paper. Oh, I’m a junior, too.
You got a homeroom?”
“Yeah. 212 and the teacher is Blankenship.”
“Then we’ll get to know each other real well.
That’s my homeroom, too, and most of the guys and gals are pretty nice. Well,
there are a couple of assholes that’s best to stay clear of. You know, the
whole macho bullshit bully stuff.”
“Jeez. Here, too? In Provo, there were a few
turds that seemed to want to make life difficult for some of the others.”
Cray didn’t add that his Tai Chi and Kung fu prowess pre-empted difficulties
at the former school.
“See that one guy over there with the two others?
He’s…one minute…here’s the final play.” Tim turned and intently watched as
the quarterback faded and found a receiver down the field. “That was a beauty.
Pure touchdown material,” he added as he wrote.
The team huddled around the coach and paid
attention to his comments. Cray could not hear what was being said but was
close enough to admire a few of the guys in their uniforms. Several had already
stripped off their practice jerseys and padding. He waited for Tim to close
his notebook before he said, “I’m going to miss the games for a while but
the team looks good. I’ve got a part-time job on weekends.” Cray smiled at
Tim and thought, ‘Yeah…looking real good.’
“We’ve got a chance to have a good season.
Oh, I was going to point out this one guy, but he and his ‘goomba’ wannabe
buddies seem to be coming our way. Just be cool and polite. Vince, the big
guy, can be bad news. The others sorta follow him.”
“Goomba?” Cray asked with a puzzled expression.
“I’ll tell you later.” Tim turned and looked
at the tall, stocky guy who was approaching with two smaller guys. “Hey, Vince.
Good scrimmage…don’t ya think? We should win this weekend.”
“Timmy Twat. Still hanging around the jocks?”
Vince said with a jeer. His two friends found this very funny. “Been sniffing
any?” This comment set his friends into hysterical fits.
“Just doing my reporting job, that’s all,”
Tim replied flatly.
“Who’s your new boyfriend?” Vince turned to
Cray and quickly sized him up.
“New guy in our class. He just transferred
in.”
“Cray Gamble,” Cray said with a smile. He extended
his hand and waited for a response.
“I’m not going to touch your faggot hand, asshole.
In fact, you’re not to touch me…period.” Vince stared at Cray and added, “You
understand?”
“Perfectly.” Cray looked at Vince and his friends.
‘Asshole is hardly the way I’d describe him,’ he thought. ‘But I need to follow
Tim’s advice…at this point.’
“Whose bike is that?” Vince asked as he pointed
to Cray’s black Navara.
“Um, mine. Just got it.” Cray didn’t like that
his new bike was now part of the conversation.
“Cool. Think I’ll borrow it for a while,” Vince
said as he lifted the bike. “Benny, put this in your truck. I’ll take it back
to my place.”
“Whoa, man. You’re ripping me off and I need
that to get home.” Cray clenched his fists, held his temper in check and added,
“This is my only transportation.” He decided that a bike wasn’t worth creating
a scene by getting into a fight. This would only draw unwanted attention.
‘I could clean his friggin’ clock if I wanted to,’ he thought without revealing
his emotions with any facial expression. ‘Wait ’til I get all my legal stuff
worked out…then, he’ll be lunchmeat.’
“Maybe twatface here can give you a lift. I
think I may be borrowing this bike for quite a while. You understand, buddy?”
Vince glared at Cray and didn’t wait for a reply. “Come on, guys. These little
girls bore me. Thanks for the loan,” he said with a laugh. All three walked
back towards the parking lot.
“What the fuck was that all about?” Cray stood
there with his mouth standing open.
“You just met Vince Ditello. He pulls shit
like this all the time. It used to be worse when we were younger. He’d shake
the younger kids down for lunch money. Stuff like that. Cray, I’m really sorry
that you became their target and school hasn’t even officially started.” Tim
put his hand on Cray’s shoulder and squeezed it. “Let’s wait a few minutes
before going to the parking lot. It would be wise to be scarce.”
“What’s with his nickname for you and what
the hell is ‘goomba’?”
“Shit…that’s been my nickname from him since
we were in grade school. And ‘goomba’ is just Italian slang that means guys
who are involved, or play they’re involved, in the mafia…whatever that is
in the 21st century.”
“So, I’m just out a bike and that’s it. This
really pisses me off.” Cray replied. He thought it was best not to share any
information about his unusual ‘home’ life in Vegas with Mario.
“My advice is to talk with him when he’s by
himself - maybe you can reason with him. Vince likes to show off in front
of his posse. Tell him you need the bike to get to school. You could complain
to the school but then that just opens a can of worms.” Tim started walking
slowly and waved for Cray to follow.
“I guess. Crap, there goes my way to school,”
Cray replied as he walked with Tim.
“The least I can do is drive you home. And
maybe tomorrow morning we could squeeze you in the car pool I’m with to get
to school.”
“That…that’d be helpful. Man, what Vince did
is really upsetting but we were outnumbered.” Cray decided it was best to
play the ‘humble’ card.
“They travel in a pack and I think his intimidation
game has had its effect on the class. Most people just avoid him whenever
possible. But if something does happen, the general feeling is to cut the
losses and just move on. Chances are he decided to make sure you understand
you’re on his turf. If he were a dog, he’d pee on you. Sick shit, isn’t it?”
“Sick and illegal. The school isn’t aware of
his tricks?” Cray asked. “That ‘dog’ needs to be taught new tricks.”
“Vince has been suspended and reprehended several
times through the years. If I had to guess, Vince will probably turn to a
life of crime when he grows up.” Tim walked over to a Ford 150 and said, “Get
in. It’s my dad’s truck and I need to get it back after I drop you off.”
The
two guys got in the truck and Cray gave Tim directions to Mario’s house. Along
the way, he found out Tim had a steady girlfriend of one year and planned
on going to college at USC and the Annenberg School of Journalism. As they
approached Mario’s house, Cray said this was just a temporary address until
his family got settled. The vagueness seemed to satisfy Tim and the remainder
of the drive centered on school sports and general gossip. They confirmed
that the car –a blue Jeep Wrangler – and the crew would be by at 7:45 a.m.
Cray waved goodbye and sadly shuffled off to his room.
It had been such a different atmosphere only
12 hours earlier. He collapsed on his bed and had a much-needed cry. ‘What
the fuck happened?’ Cray wondered. ‘All of my dreams for a new beginning snuffed
out like someone peeing on a campfire. What’s that all about?’ He replayed
the episode at the school and tried to determine if he should have done anything
differently. ‘I should have kicked Ditello’s ass. But I can’t afford to call
attention to myself.’ Slowly, the tears subsided and the hunger pangs of a
teenage stomach took over. Cray wiped his eyes and decided to feed his face.
*****
Mario stood in the kitchen, poured white wine into a glass and took
a sip. It was only seven in the evening but he was exhausted from the active
Labor Day weekend. All of the business interests he supervised had generated
major, record-breaking revenues. ‘Joe will be very satisfied,’ Mario thought,
‘when I meet him a little later at the penthouse.’ He and Joe Strollo checked
out the ‘totes’ every Monday night on the top floor of the imposing Pompeii
Towers condo just off the Strip. The briefcase sat by his legs as he took
a second sip.
“Oh, ‘hi’, Mario,” Cray said as he entered
the kitchen. “Just want to fix a sandwich.”
“Hi, yourself. Something wrong?” Mario looked
at the young man and knew that the red, swollen eyes and dour expression reflected
some kind of unhappy experience. ‘Maybe he and Spike’s brother had a spat
at the last minute,’ he considered.
“It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? I…oh, shit…I’m
fucked before I even start school.” Cray grabbed Mario’s free arm and burrowed
his head into the shoulder of his mentor. “Someone stole my bike this afternoon
and I’m really upset…”
“Slow down, buddy.” Mario set down his wine
and pulled Cray into a hug. “Let’s talk about it?” He kissed Cray on the cheek
and added, “You wanna grab a beer and we can go back to the pool?” Mario thought
Cray would probably tell him that he’d forgotten to lock the bike and it had
been taken. ‘Pretty common,’ he thought.
“Um, yeah…okay.” Cray opened the fridge and
found a can of beer. He looked at Mario, shrugged and followed him outside.
“You want to start from the beginning?” Mario
asked as he sat down at the closest table by the pool. Under the table, between
his legs, was the briefcase. “Go ahead and sit.” He gestured and watched his
young friend flop down in a chair.
“Well, after Henry left this morning and I
got everything cleaned up, I decided to take a bike trip around the neighborhood
and find my way to school. You know, figure out the best route.”
“Sounds reasonable to me,” Mario replied.
“I found Green Valley with no problems and
was surprised that the football team was practicing on a holiday. Anyway,
I started talking to a really nice guy who’s a student sports reporter for
the school newspaper when this friggin’ asswipe comes up and starts putting
down the guy who I was with. Then, this guy, Vince, starts talking to me in
a very threatening tone. The next thing I know he’s saying he’s ‘borrowing’
my bike cuz he likes it. When I tell him I need it to get to school, he gives
me a F.U. look and asks one of his friends to take it to their truck. They
fucking stole it. Well, he said he was going to ‘borrow it’ but wouldn’t tell
me when he was going to return it except that it would be a long time.” Cray
took a deep breath and exhaled. “I didn’t fight over it because of the situation
here.”
“Man, what are these guys…some sort of low-lifes
who are preying on our schools?” Mario asked as he sat up.
“Tim, the guy who I was talking with, said
they’re in our class. Vince, has apparently been a troublemaker for quite
a while and is a real un-cool badass.”
“Vince. Did you get a last name?” Mario was
afraid that he already knew the answer.
“Ditello. Vince Ditello. Apparently this guy
has been terrorizing kids for a long time. Tim called him and his friends,
‘goomba wannabes’. All I know is that…the fucker stole my bike.” Cray looked
at Mario and trembled before another outburst of tears flew out. “I just wanted
a new…beginning,” he stuttered, “and make some new friends.”
“Okay, I got the picture. Take a sip of brew
and give me a few minutes to figure things out.” Mario hoisted his glass and
visually urged Cray to raise his can of beer. ‘Shit, Vince, Jr., is more of
a cretin than I imagined,’ he thought as he watched Cray tentatively take
a sip of beer. ‘I wouldn’t wish that juvenile delinquent on my worst enemy.’
Mario felt a mixture of anger and sorrow welling inside him.
“Just tell me that you’re not mad at me for
losing the bike,” Cray said, punctuated with a few sniffles. “That’s one of
the neatest presents I’ve received in a long time. Maybe ever.”
“I’m not mad…just disappointed that this other
kid and his friends are being such assholes. Cray, I promise you that by this
time tomorrow you’ll have the bike back. That’s the very least that will happen.”
“Wha…what do you mean?” Cray set down his can
of beer and leaned forward.
“I know this guy’s dad. He needs to be made
aware of what his son is up to.” Mario knew what he would do as soon as Cray
settled down. ‘Strollo might have to get involved with this one,’ he decided.
“But…I’ve been told that this animal really
holds grudges if he thinks someone has told on him.”
“Let me worry about that. You go back to your
room and get some rest. You need a ride to school tomorrow?”
“Got it covered. Tim – the kid who’s the sports
reporter – is in a car pool and I’m being picked up.” Cray stood up and put
his hands on Mario’s shoulders. “Thanks for listening to me. I feel like such
a wuss.”
“Hardly a wuss.” Mario reached up and put his
hands on top of Cray’s and squeezed. “Now, scoot. Uncle Mario’s got a few
things to do.” He watched a much more relaxed young man walk away.
Dusk was settling and the landscaping lighting
turned on as Mario drank the remainder of his wine. He considered this latest
problem and the unsaid ramifications of Vince, Jr.’s thug-like actions. ‘This
kid has been in and out of trouble for years,’ he thought. But he also knew
that it was a case of the fruit not falling far from the tree. The dad, Vinny
‘The Enforcer’ Ditello, took care of deadbeats who fell behind in repaying
loans or gambling debts. Mario was thankful that he didn’t have to interact
with The Enforcer; that they both worked for Mighty Joe Strollo was the only
thing they had in common. However, he knew that it would be politically wise
to call Vince first and attempt to resolve this problem between two lieutenants
before bringing Joe into the picture. He picked up his cell phone, looked
up Vince’s number and dialed.
~~~ “Hey, Cirillo…what’s up?”
“A problem that involves your son. You got
a minute?”
~~~ “What’s Vince supposed to have done, now?”
the father asked a little abruptly.
“He, quote, ‘borrowed’ a guy’s bike over at
the high school today. The guy, who’s someone I consider like a nephew, was
stranded after the bike was taken. That’s just wrong, Vinny.”
~~~ “Hey, the kid was just having some fun…that’s
all. I’m sure Vince will probably get tired of the bike and give it back at
some point. I’m buying him a truck for his birthday next month. So your nephew
will just have to wait. Let the boys work it out.”
“Vinny, you’re not listening to me. The bike
was a present from me to my young friend and I want it returned tomorrow…in
mint condition.”
~~~ “Cirillo, listen up. You may be Joe’s number
two, but you don’t control me. Not going to happen. And certainly not where
my son’s concerned.”
“Then we need to talk in front of Joe. I strongly
suggest you show up at the penthouse tonight at 10:00 p.m. Or would you rather
have Joe send you a personal invitation?” Mario raised his voice slightly
to emphasize the importance of this suggestion.
~~~ “Tell you what, I’ll give you a hundred
bucks for the bike and leave it at that. Final offer.”
“First, the bike cost me much more. And, second,
I’m not going to have my ‘nephew’ starting school tomorrow with Vince, Jr.,
on his back. A big third is that your son is stirring up shit in our business.”
Mario knew better than to be specific about any ‘business’ on the telephone.
“We need to talk in person. You going to be there?”
~~~ “Don’t get your panties in a twist. I’ll
be there,” were Vinny’s last words.
Mario went back to the kitchen and looked into
the fridge for some food. Because it was a holiday, Mr. Ed had been given
the weekend off and dinner choices were fairly slim. Nothing ‘rang his chimes’
so he called Joe Strollo to find out if he wanted to have some dinner and
talk some serious new business. Joe
said that he’d call the Carnegie Deli and have the manager hold the corner
booth for them at 8:00 p.m.
Over the course of a shared corned beef sandwich
and Greek salad, Mario gave his boss a brief rundown of meeting Cray and what
he’d done to help the young man. More thoroughly, he explained the social
events of the past 10 days involving Cray and detailed the problems the teen
had experienced with Vince, Jr. The boss asked a few questions but mostly
absorbed what he’d been told. Joe agreed that Vinny’s son needed to be straightened
out and discussed a few of the options available. Over coffee and cheesecake,
a plan evolved.
Back in the penthouse at the Pompeii Towers,
Joe counted Mario’s ‘tote’ and returned ten grand as Mario’s take of the weekend
action. The high-end escort service was only part of his responsibilities.
They were sipping sambuca con mosca when reception called to announce Mr.
Ditello’s arrival.
“Send him up,” Joe said into the phone receiver.
He turned to Mario and added, “Let me do the talking. It’s better this way…you’re
both valuable to the organization.”
“I understand, boss.” Mario purposely walked
to the window to enjoy the spectacular view from the 40th floor
and stay removed from Vinny’s arrival.
“Come in, my brother,” Joe said as he opened
the door. After a usual ritual of a hug and kiss on the cheek, the two men
walked into the living room. “I guess you knew that Mario was going to be
here.”
“Yeah. Hello, Mario.” Vinny stood and waited
for Mario to join him.
“Paisano.” Mario almost choked on the words
as he nodded. Mario knew that Vinny was pulling a power play by still standing
but this was going to be a short-lived victory for the older, battle-wise
warrior. He joined Vinny and duplicated the physical greeting.
“You want to join us for a drink?” Joe lifted
the sambuca bottle on the coffee table and smiled at Vinny.
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
Joe pointed to the couches and poured the white,
licorice-flavored liqueur into a snifter containing three coffee beans. Each
man sat down and raised the glasses before silently taking a sip. “Mario said
that we have a situation to resolve and I’d like to hear your end of the story,”
the boss said in a matter-of-fact manner.
“Look. My kid was wrong but it’s just a little
school squabble. I just think Mario was out of line trying to tell me how
to handle discipline in my house.” Vinny turned to Mario and stared with a
slightly veiled, cold glare.
“Let me pose this question: what would your
reaction be if somebody did that to your son?” Joe asked calmly.
“I’d crush their nuts and break a few bones…for
openers,” Vinny blurted out.
“So what’s so unreasonable about Mario – my
right hand in operations – calling you because someone he’s close to was fucked
over by Vince, Jr.?” Joe looked at Vinny with an incredulous expression. “What
are you trying to say?” he asked in a much louder voice. “I can’t hear you.”
Mario felt the last response was similar to
a clap of thunder. Joe’s trademark was to never show anger or react abruptly.
He watched as Vinny changed from an outraged brute to a tranquilized tiger.
‘I would never want to be on the receiving end of that anger,’ he decided.
‘I’m glad we’re both on the same team…in a way.’
“Boss, I guess that was a little strong. Maybe
I’m being too sensitive cuz this shit just keeps on happening. He’s not a
bad kid…I don’t think. But he’s been pulling crap like this since he was little
and I don’t know what to do. I didn’t mean to disrespect you.” Vinny turned
to Mario, took a deep breath and continued, “Mario, I…I’m sorry. I should
have insisted he return that bike immediately. I dunno, maybe I’m not such
a red-hot father? He’ll have the bike back at school first thing in the morning
for your nephew.”
“I appreciate that.” Mario reached over and
shook Vinny’s hand. He didn’t bother correcting the nephew title. ‘Best leave
it the way it is.’
“Good. That’s for openers.” Joe stretched his
neck and cracked his knuckles. “Now here’s what your kid is going to do tomorrow
morning. I want him, that bike, and his friends waiting for the other boy
– Cray – when this car pool arrives around 7:45. And you make sure Junior
has a nice apology ready. Capiche?”
“That’s going to be tough for him to do. My
boy isn’t wired that way,” Vinny replied warily.
“Fucking read my lips,” Joe snapped back. “Either
your kid gets this squared away or there will be very serious consequences.
This isn’t just about someone close to Mario – and, therefore, me – getting
screwed over by a punk, bambino ‘malfatorre’. You listen and listen, good.”
Joe stood and continued, “First, when that little shithead of yours does things
like that, it only draws unwanted attention to us. You understand?”
“Yes, boss,” Vinny replied with his head looking
down.
“But it’s much worse. This civilian – this
kid your boy fucked with – is protected by our associate, Mario, and has friends
in high places.”
“You know him, too?” Vinny squirmed in the
couch and stared at Joe. Visible fear crept over his face.
“I’m small potatoes compared to our friends
in L.A – who he knows. Plus, he had dinner last week with the son of the big
boss back east. Those kinds of ‘high places’. Vinny, we’ve been friends for
a long time and hopefully will be for several more years. But having this
hothead kid of yours risking what we got is unacceptable. And what we got
in Vegas is gold…like printing fucking money. Understand?”
“Uh, yeah, you’re right.”
“Therefore, I think it’s time to send Vince,
Jr., off to a military boarding school. At the rate he’s going, there will
never be room for him in our organization.”
Mario watched as tears trickled out of The
Enforcer’s eyes. Vinny understood that the idea of exporting the kid to a
military school was not a suggestion open for discussion.
_____________________
TO BE CONTINUED