and drinking champagne and sitting ringside—that helped. She came my way. Now we really had to sneak around.
Came a long weekend and Tuta told her family she was going with her girlfriends to the Spanish villas around Newburgh. We flew to Miami. Qué party! La Guillot, Manzanero were singing down there. Los Violines, Montmartre—the whole Cuban scene. Yeah, mother, I got to them drawers. Got my head bad too. I was really hung up on her. She knew she had me staggering behind her box. She demanded that we elope. I was groggy but not that groggy. I retaliated with, “I was married many years ago, as a minor, but I’m working on my divorce now. Then we’ll get married right away.” Ain’t no rug can lie better than me.
It was fab’lous honeymoon without benefit of clergy. But now it was time to pay my dues. We arrived Tuesday night looking tanned ’n terrific. I drove her up to 104th Street to let her cross the street by herself. I waited on the corner until she was out of sight, then I decided to go into the Gondolier for a taste. Sigfrido came in from my right. I had no piece—the first one hit me flush on the chest; I tried to grab him, but he put two more in my stomach. The guys from the Gondolier came running out. “Carlito’s dead,” “They killed Carlito,” people yelling. And I was going out. I was freezing, maybe I’m deadalready. I couldn’t see, but I could hear voices. I wanted to get up but couldn’t move. I remembered other guys dying on the streets of Harlem wanting to get up as if you couldn’t die standing up. The bulls—“Wait for an ambulance,” “Some dope pusher named Carlito, I know him,” “Sure punched his ticket.”
Then Cheo from the Gondolier said, “Don’t wait for no fucking ambulance—don’t leave him there—what about my fucking license? Carry him to the Flower Hospital—it’s only a block away.” Cheo saved my ass.
I was dying for two weeks, especially around early dawn I’d really fade, but I kept coming back. Them doctors like to croak me, but I survived just for spite. Like the bullet in my chest, they couldn’t find it. It’s still in there—I don’t bother him, he don’t bother me. In the evening, everybody would come in to see me, everybody but Tuta. They told me she and her whole family had checked out that same night. Figured I’d have the brother killed. No way. You know that chump had to be sore, peddling bacalao and plátanos in a store the size of a closet. And me with my pimp-car running off with his sister. Shit, he was smoking. Me, I ain’t no grudgeholder—if I had caught the dude early on, I’d a put a hurtin’ on him, but later on—what the hell? Fact is, Sigfrido did me a favor—I felt better every day, like I took a weight off. Always felt that way when I shook off a broad—don’t have to account to nobody—stay loose—if I’m busted don’t have to worry she’s cheating on you. My line of work, man only supposed to worry about one thing: staying out the Joint. Anything else is superfluid.
The bulls from the two-three was up to see me regular. First time I was a complainant.
“They was three muggers, hofficer. Mean, too. Didn’t give me a chance to hand over my money. A man cannot walk in the streets ’cause Lindsay has tied your hands—a regular ghetto here in the two-three, I’m moving up to Simpson Street where a man is safe.”
“You always been a wise cock-sucker, Carlito—that’s why they perforated your ass. Listen, if it was up to me they coulda buried you, but we got these reports and we gotta have a description of the assailants—now quit fucking around!”
“Well, your honor, the assailants looked colored, but they might have been dark Italians or even that other group you got around here. In the dark, todos los gatos son negros . Don’t get mad at me, officer, all I saw was bang, bang, bang. I wouldn’t want to make no mistake, I know what it is to be framed by your house.”
“Aw, you
Came a long weekend and Tuta told her family she was going with her girlfriends to the Spanish villas around Newburgh. We flew to Miami. Qué party! La Guillot, Manzanero were singing down there. Los Violines, Montmartre—the whole Cuban scene. Yeah, mother, I got to them drawers. Got my head bad too. I was really hung up on her. She knew she had me staggering behind her box. She demanded that we elope. I was groggy but not that groggy. I retaliated with, “I was married many years ago, as a minor, but I’m working on my divorce now. Then we’ll get married right away.” Ain’t no rug can lie better than me.
It was fab’lous honeymoon without benefit of clergy. But now it was time to pay my dues. We arrived Tuesday night looking tanned ’n terrific. I drove her up to 104th Street to let her cross the street by herself. I waited on the corner until she was out of sight, then I decided to go into the Gondolier for a taste. Sigfrido came in from my right. I had no piece—the first one hit me flush on the chest; I tried to grab him, but he put two more in my stomach. The guys from the Gondolier came running out. “Carlito’s dead,” “They killed Carlito,” people yelling. And I was going out. I was freezing, maybe I’m deadalready. I couldn’t see, but I could hear voices. I wanted to get up but couldn’t move. I remembered other guys dying on the streets of Harlem wanting to get up as if you couldn’t die standing up. The bulls—“Wait for an ambulance,” “Some dope pusher named Carlito, I know him,” “Sure punched his ticket.”
Then Cheo from the Gondolier said, “Don’t wait for no fucking ambulance—don’t leave him there—what about my fucking license? Carry him to the Flower Hospital—it’s only a block away.” Cheo saved my ass.
I was dying for two weeks, especially around early dawn I’d really fade, but I kept coming back. Them doctors like to croak me, but I survived just for spite. Like the bullet in my chest, they couldn’t find it. It’s still in there—I don’t bother him, he don’t bother me. In the evening, everybody would come in to see me, everybody but Tuta. They told me she and her whole family had checked out that same night. Figured I’d have the brother killed. No way. You know that chump had to be sore, peddling bacalao and plátanos in a store the size of a closet. And me with my pimp-car running off with his sister. Shit, he was smoking. Me, I ain’t no grudgeholder—if I had caught the dude early on, I’d a put a hurtin’ on him, but later on—what the hell? Fact is, Sigfrido did me a favor—I felt better every day, like I took a weight off. Always felt that way when I shook off a broad—don’t have to account to nobody—stay loose—if I’m busted don’t have to worry she’s cheating on you. My line of work, man only supposed to worry about one thing: staying out the Joint. Anything else is superfluid.
The bulls from the two-three was up to see me regular. First time I was a complainant.
“They was three muggers, hofficer. Mean, too. Didn’t give me a chance to hand over my money. A man cannot walk in the streets ’cause Lindsay has tied your hands—a regular ghetto here in the two-three, I’m moving up to Simpson Street where a man is safe.”
“You always been a wise cock-sucker, Carlito—that’s why they perforated your ass. Listen, if it was up to me they coulda buried you, but we got these reports and we gotta have a description of the assailants—now quit fucking around!”
“Well, your honor, the assailants looked colored, but they might have been dark Italians or even that other group you got around here. In the dark, todos los gatos son negros . Don’t get mad at me, officer, all I saw was bang, bang, bang. I wouldn’t want to make no mistake, I know what it is to be framed by your house.”
“Aw, you
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