Untitled by Unknown Author

up a room the minute he opens up his mouth. All except for his brainwashed wife, Lola, who gazes up at him adoringly.
        "Okay, shlemiel, " says Ida. "What's the solution?"
        Hy has to make a dramatic event out of everything. He dances around wiggling his butt, a favorite, but nauseating, antic of his. He waits until the chatter dies down and he has everyone's attention. He then announces at the top of his lungs, "Keep your friggin' shades down!"
        The women are throwing anything available at him: tissues, beach towels, paperback books, stale celery sticks left over from the cooking class held here yesterday.
        He shields his face with his hands. "What? What's your problem? It's cheap, don't cost nobody nothing. Don't even have to pay the hotshot P.I.'s a cent."
        Ida goes after him with her sun umbrella, threatening to clobber him as he ducks behind a chair, still ranting. "The guy will never come back again if there's nothing for him to see, and frankly, why he'd want to look at you ugly old broads— Ouch!" he says as Ida whacks him across his precious rear.
        Tessie comes forward and lifts Hy up. "Shut up, squirt," she says, and dumps him back into his seat.
        He slinks down, terrified of big Tessie.
        Everyone applauds.
        The door is suddenly flung open. Sol Spankowitz from Phase Three hurries in, both hands carrying huge and obviously heavy grocery bags. "Hey, somebody said there was a party in the clubhouse, so I brought deli. Corned beef, pastrami, chopped liver, and lots of Dr. Brown's CelRay tonic." He grins broadly. "And if this isn't enough, I'll run out for more."
        For a moment all stare at the newcomer.
        And then the rush begins to get at the food, the women laughing with delight. Those who don't rush Sol reach for their own hidden little brown bags and remove their snacks.
        Tessie hugs Sol. "My savior," she says as she digs deep into his huge sack from Moishe's Deli.
        "I guess the meeting is over," I tell the girls. It was just as well Sol broke up the meeting. We were getting nowhere fast.

    19

    Macho Man

    I t's time to take on Elio Siciliano. We are sitting in a coffee shop across the street from Siciliano & Sons Construction, looking out the rather dingy windows, spying on our prey. Our almost unanimous decision was to give Angelina's husband a chance to save his life. We'll tell him what we know about his alleged philandering before we report him to his scary wife.
        It was not an easy vote, since no one except Evvie and I was willing to meet him face-to-face. Sophie wanted to send him a letter. Bella's idea was to leave a message on his answering machine. Ida, needless to say, would have had us go straight to Angelina so that vicious justice could be meted out. We outvoted her.
        Sophie points out the window. "Those two guys must be Elio's sons. Mmm, what muscles."
        "The muscles on the old man ain't bad either," says Evvie, though the direction of her gaze makes it clear that she's enjoying the testosterone types working with shirts off, sweat glistening on their chests.
        "He must be some kind of hot stuff, still working at his age," Bella offers.
        Evvie says, "I doubt he does any of the hard labor anymore. He looks like the kind of guy who'd die before he'd retire."
        "Yeah, I bet he likes to come in just to boss his sons around," says Sophie.
        Ida pipes in, "If I were married to a shrew like Angelina, I'd do anything to get out of that house."
        Evvie gets up and goes to the next table to pick up another napkin. She wiggles her way back, singing, " 'Macho, macho, macho man.' "
        "What's that?" Bella asks.
        "A song from a very funny movie," says our entertainment maven .
        "Well," I say, "have we stalled enough? Bad coffee, greasy doughnuts, and more bad coffee." No bagels in this industrial neighborhood.
        I look at my