to the side and rested it on my fist, and watched the yellow line. The road was wet, and the wetness looked good on the black of the road. It made the tires of the Park Avenue hum. I thought about Ricky's kid, and that “video game machine” his old man had given him for Christmas. The kid was probably sitting at home with sore thumbs, clueless that his dear old dad was never coming home again.
Then I drifted, and the name Ricky made me think about Desi Arnaz and Lucille Ball. I used to watch Lucy, but it never mesmerized me quite like Ward and June Cleaver did. Still, there's no denying the genius of Lucille Ball. One of the great ones.
And thinking about the great ones, I couldn't help but think about the Great One, Jackie Gleason. I love The Honeymooners as much as I love the Beaver . I used to count down the minutes until eleven pm, up in my bedroom at Stella and Carl's farmhouse, as I twisted the rabbit ears until Channel 3 came in…
Drum roll… fireworks exploding… cityscape… Jackie Gleason's face on the moon… announcer's voice: “Jackie Gleason! The Honeymooners… with the stars Art Carney… Audrey Meadows… and Joyce Randolph.”
Audrey Meadows was something else. She was the first television woman who was tough and bold, and there's nothing hotter than a broad who stands up for herself. And I dare anyone to come up with two better onscreen pals than Ralph Kramden and Ed Norton.
I was lost in all of these thoughts—Ralph and Ed and The Raccoon Lodge; how Fred and Ethel didn't like each other in real life; how Lucy and Desi could never stay away from each other, even after they split—when I first saw the red and blue lights in the side mirror.
The cop car was coming up fast. I sat up straight and chewed a fingernail. Dan the Man adjusted the rearview, and swallowed like a guy about to go on a job interview.
“He'll pass,” I said.
“No one else out here.”
“Something bigger, up the road.”
“Let's hope,” Dan said.
But the lights caught up and hovered there behind us, and the sirens chirped like some terrible spaceship. Dan the Man took a while to slow down, like he was using every last second to come up with a plan. The Park Avenue dipped down on my side as we finally came to a stop at the edge of the road.
“Stay cool,” Dan said.
I stared straight ahead, and I wondered if this might be my last night as a free man. I thought how I'd never make it in prison. I'm not so tough without a gun. If I ever did get sent up, I decided I'd just eat a bullet like Hemingway.
There was a rap on the window. Dan the Man rolled it down.
“Howdy,” the cop said. The dark purple sky and line of black trees behind him washed all detail from the figure.
“Evenin',” Dan said.
“This your car?” the cop said.
“Friend's letting me borrow it,” Dan said, kind of uneasy.
The cop leaned down and shined his flashlight into the car. It hit right in my eyes, and I winced. He held the beam there.
“Ronnie?” he said.
“Pete?”
He tipped his cap.
It was Greedy Pete Bruen, and I was never so glad to see him. He's a smug son of a bitch, but I could have shaken his hand right then I was so happy.
“Was I speeding, officer?” Dan the Man said, not meaning a word of it.
“No, no. Nothing like that. I seen the car, and I thunk to myself, 'hey, that's Ricky Cervetti's car. I wonder what he's up to out here on this lonesome road.'”
“Just business,” Dan the Man said.
“Seems to me he ain't on no kinda business at all.”
Dan the Man reached in his pocket and pulled out a thick wad of hundred-dollar bills. Then he licked his thumb. “Let's get this over with,” he said.
“Now, now. Just you wait a minute. Maybe that ain't what I meant at all. Maybe I'm just worried sick about Ricky.”
“Ricky skipped town,” Dan said.
“Shame,” Pete said. “A real shame.”
Dan coughed and rubbed at the side of his neck. “Ten of these,” he said, thumbing through the bills.
Then I drifted, and the name Ricky made me think about Desi Arnaz and Lucille Ball. I used to watch Lucy, but it never mesmerized me quite like Ward and June Cleaver did. Still, there's no denying the genius of Lucille Ball. One of the great ones.
And thinking about the great ones, I couldn't help but think about the Great One, Jackie Gleason. I love The Honeymooners as much as I love the Beaver . I used to count down the minutes until eleven pm, up in my bedroom at Stella and Carl's farmhouse, as I twisted the rabbit ears until Channel 3 came in…
Drum roll… fireworks exploding… cityscape… Jackie Gleason's face on the moon… announcer's voice: “Jackie Gleason! The Honeymooners… with the stars Art Carney… Audrey Meadows… and Joyce Randolph.”
Audrey Meadows was something else. She was the first television woman who was tough and bold, and there's nothing hotter than a broad who stands up for herself. And I dare anyone to come up with two better onscreen pals than Ralph Kramden and Ed Norton.
I was lost in all of these thoughts—Ralph and Ed and The Raccoon Lodge; how Fred and Ethel didn't like each other in real life; how Lucy and Desi could never stay away from each other, even after they split—when I first saw the red and blue lights in the side mirror.
The cop car was coming up fast. I sat up straight and chewed a fingernail. Dan the Man adjusted the rearview, and swallowed like a guy about to go on a job interview.
“He'll pass,” I said.
“No one else out here.”
“Something bigger, up the road.”
“Let's hope,” Dan said.
But the lights caught up and hovered there behind us, and the sirens chirped like some terrible spaceship. Dan the Man took a while to slow down, like he was using every last second to come up with a plan. The Park Avenue dipped down on my side as we finally came to a stop at the edge of the road.
“Stay cool,” Dan said.
I stared straight ahead, and I wondered if this might be my last night as a free man. I thought how I'd never make it in prison. I'm not so tough without a gun. If I ever did get sent up, I decided I'd just eat a bullet like Hemingway.
There was a rap on the window. Dan the Man rolled it down.
“Howdy,” the cop said. The dark purple sky and line of black trees behind him washed all detail from the figure.
“Evenin',” Dan said.
“This your car?” the cop said.
“Friend's letting me borrow it,” Dan said, kind of uneasy.
The cop leaned down and shined his flashlight into the car. It hit right in my eyes, and I winced. He held the beam there.
“Ronnie?” he said.
“Pete?”
He tipped his cap.
It was Greedy Pete Bruen, and I was never so glad to see him. He's a smug son of a bitch, but I could have shaken his hand right then I was so happy.
“Was I speeding, officer?” Dan the Man said, not meaning a word of it.
“No, no. Nothing like that. I seen the car, and I thunk to myself, 'hey, that's Ricky Cervetti's car. I wonder what he's up to out here on this lonesome road.'”
“Just business,” Dan the Man said.
“Seems to me he ain't on no kinda business at all.”
Dan the Man reached in his pocket and pulled out a thick wad of hundred-dollar bills. Then he licked his thumb. “Let's get this over with,” he said.
“Now, now. Just you wait a minute. Maybe that ain't what I meant at all. Maybe I'm just worried sick about Ricky.”
“Ricky skipped town,” Dan said.
“Shame,” Pete said. “A real shame.”
Dan coughed and rubbed at the side of his neck. “Ten of these,” he said, thumbing through the bills.
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