motion. “Yeah, I know a college kid named Tom.”
“You tell him to give me a call,” Kelly said. “Tell him I want to hear from him.”
“Oh yeah?” Luca said. He looked at the boys. “Dames,” he said, as if sharing some common knowledge about women. To Kelly he said, “Let’s go, doll.” He wrapped his arm around Kelly’s waist and yanked her away from the table.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Nico said to Sonny, “What the hell was that about?”
“Yeah, Sonny,” Cork chimed in, “how the hell’s she know Tom?”
Sonny glanced across the room and saw that Luca was looking back at him. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said.
Cork said, “Jaysu Christi,” and he looked toward the exit. “You go first,” he said. “Remember, we don’t know you.”
Angelo said, “We’ll keep an eye on Luca.”
Sonny stood, all smiles, and Cork shook his hand as if he were a departing acquaintance. Sonny said, “I’ll wait for you in my car.”
Sonny made his way slowly to the coatroom. He ambled, took his time. He didn’t want to give Luca the impression he was running. A Jane in a pillbox hat and net stockings toting a tray of cigarettes crossed his path and he stopped her to buy a pack of Camels. “You should try Luckies,” she said, batting her eyes at him. “They’re toasted,” she said, being cute, “for throat protection and better taste.”
“That’s swell,” Sonny said, playing along. “Give me a pack, then, doll.”
“Take it yourself,” she said, and she stuck her chest out, pushing the tray toward him. “They’re so round, so firm, so fully packed,” she said.
Sonny tossed a quarter on the tray. “Keep the change.”
She winked at him and sauntered away. Sonny followed her with his eyes. Across the room, he saw Luca leaning over his table, head-to-head with Kelly. He didn’t look happy. “Tom,” Sonny whispered to himself, “I’m gonna kill ya.” He got his coat and hat and went out to the street.
Juke’s front doors opened onto West 126th, near Lenox Avenue. Sonny stopped in front of a tent sign, unwrapped the Luckies, and lit up. The sign advertised Cab Calloway and his Orchestra playing “Minnie the Moocher.” Sonny said, “Hi-de-hi-de-hi,” and turned up the collar of his jacket against a cold breeze. It was still fall, but the breeze promised winter. Behind him, the door to the club opened, spilling music out onto the street. A guy with gray hair wearing a black overcoat with a fur collar came out lighting up a cigar. “What’s the rumpus?” he said to Sonny, and Sonny nodded to him but didn’t reply. A moment later a skinny kid came out the door wearing anargyle sweater. He gave the black-overcoat guy a look, and then they walked away down the street together.
Sonny followed them until he reached his car. He got in behind the wheel, rolled the window down, and stretched out as best he could. His head was swimming a bit, but he’d sobered up pretty quickly when Kelly asked him about Tom. In his mind’s eye he saw Kelly again as she pulled back the curtain and faced the street. She was in the window for only a second before Tom appeared behind her and closed the curtain, but in that second Sonny took in her body, which was a dream, all white and pink with shocks of red hair. Her face was round, with red lips and angled eyebrows—and even at a distance, all the way across Eleventh Avenue, looking up, through glass, he thought he saw something about her that was angry.
Sonny wondered just how dangerous this Kelly O’Rourke might be. He pushed his hat back and scratched his head. He asked himself what her play could be, and all he came up with was jealousy. She wanted to make Luca jealous. But why Tom? And how did she know Sonny knew Tom? How did she know Sonny for that matter? He got stuck there. Dames were always hard to figure, but this one was a prizewinner. If Pop found out about this,
Madon’!
He wouldn’t want to be Tom. Pop had
“You tell him to give me a call,” Kelly said. “Tell him I want to hear from him.”
“Oh yeah?” Luca said. He looked at the boys. “Dames,” he said, as if sharing some common knowledge about women. To Kelly he said, “Let’s go, doll.” He wrapped his arm around Kelly’s waist and yanked her away from the table.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Nico said to Sonny, “What the hell was that about?”
“Yeah, Sonny,” Cork chimed in, “how the hell’s she know Tom?”
Sonny glanced across the room and saw that Luca was looking back at him. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said.
Cork said, “Jaysu Christi,” and he looked toward the exit. “You go first,” he said. “Remember, we don’t know you.”
Angelo said, “We’ll keep an eye on Luca.”
Sonny stood, all smiles, and Cork shook his hand as if he were a departing acquaintance. Sonny said, “I’ll wait for you in my car.”
Sonny made his way slowly to the coatroom. He ambled, took his time. He didn’t want to give Luca the impression he was running. A Jane in a pillbox hat and net stockings toting a tray of cigarettes crossed his path and he stopped her to buy a pack of Camels. “You should try Luckies,” she said, batting her eyes at him. “They’re toasted,” she said, being cute, “for throat protection and better taste.”
“That’s swell,” Sonny said, playing along. “Give me a pack, then, doll.”
“Take it yourself,” she said, and she stuck her chest out, pushing the tray toward him. “They’re so round, so firm, so fully packed,” she said.
Sonny tossed a quarter on the tray. “Keep the change.”
She winked at him and sauntered away. Sonny followed her with his eyes. Across the room, he saw Luca leaning over his table, head-to-head with Kelly. He didn’t look happy. “Tom,” Sonny whispered to himself, “I’m gonna kill ya.” He got his coat and hat and went out to the street.
Juke’s front doors opened onto West 126th, near Lenox Avenue. Sonny stopped in front of a tent sign, unwrapped the Luckies, and lit up. The sign advertised Cab Calloway and his Orchestra playing “Minnie the Moocher.” Sonny said, “Hi-de-hi-de-hi,” and turned up the collar of his jacket against a cold breeze. It was still fall, but the breeze promised winter. Behind him, the door to the club opened, spilling music out onto the street. A guy with gray hair wearing a black overcoat with a fur collar came out lighting up a cigar. “What’s the rumpus?” he said to Sonny, and Sonny nodded to him but didn’t reply. A moment later a skinny kid came out the door wearing anargyle sweater. He gave the black-overcoat guy a look, and then they walked away down the street together.
Sonny followed them until he reached his car. He got in behind the wheel, rolled the window down, and stretched out as best he could. His head was swimming a bit, but he’d sobered up pretty quickly when Kelly asked him about Tom. In his mind’s eye he saw Kelly again as she pulled back the curtain and faced the street. She was in the window for only a second before Tom appeared behind her and closed the curtain, but in that second Sonny took in her body, which was a dream, all white and pink with shocks of red hair. Her face was round, with red lips and angled eyebrows—and even at a distance, all the way across Eleventh Avenue, looking up, through glass, he thought he saw something about her that was angry.
Sonny wondered just how dangerous this Kelly O’Rourke might be. He pushed his hat back and scratched his head. He asked himself what her play could be, and all he came up with was jealousy. She wanted to make Luca jealous. But why Tom? And how did she know Sonny knew Tom? How did she know Sonny for that matter? He got stuck there. Dames were always hard to figure, but this one was a prizewinner. If Pop found out about this,
Madon’!
He wouldn’t want to be Tom. Pop had
Similar Books
