Charges (17 page)

“I’m not looking to start anything,” Vincenzo said, “but that’s my only offer. Feel free to walk on if you don’t like it.”

Rob nodded. “I think we can deal with that. Just so you know we’re friends.”

Vincenzo shook his head. “No, we’re not. We’re allies.”

14

With Rob and Jody in the lead, Vincenzo was a bit more comfortable. At least he could keep an eye out for anyone who might be looking to move on him from behind without having to worry about not having a pair of eyes facing forward. He felt that the Ackermans weren’t out to cause any mischief, especially if what Rob had said was true. Pushing a pregnant woman into danger would take a lot of guts, and he didn’t get that kind of heartless vibe from the big man. And there was a legitimate pall of fear around Jody that made Vincenzo think she had something more to protect than just herself and her husband. He was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt, but he did keep his eyes on them, just in case. And he kept a good fifteen feet between them, as well. Not that one of them couldn’t turn and close that distance before he could draw a weapon, but the gap should give them pause if trouble was on their minds. He didn’t figure he was dealing with a pair of Navy SEALs. They were just a couple of hikers who needed to get home, a story Vincenzo was all too familiar with.

They made it to Essex Street. The neighborhood had been built with an emphasis on business and retail, but there were plenty of houses and apartment buildings thrown into the mix. Several shops and bodegas had signs in Spanish. And the stores, especially the drugstores and small food markets, seemed to be well guarded. Uniformed police were there in some small number, but Vincenzo also spotted the outline of many a pistol beneath loose-fitting T-shirts of civilians. The men—almost all were men, though Vincenzo did see one middle-aged Asian woman standing watch inside her Vietnamese grocery store—seemed neutral enough, but their eyes were sharp. They were alert for any trouble, and Vincenzo didn’t blame them when they gave the motley trio schlepping backpacks a second glance.

As they walked past a vacant McDonald’s, Vincenzo regarded the restaurant with a heavy heart. He’d always had a fondness for the Golden Arches, and knowing they might never shine again was a sudden, heavy disappointment.
No more Big Macs for you!
he thought, channeling the Soup Nazi from
Seinfeld.

“Hey, look,” Rob said, pointing off to the left at a delicatessen that seemed to be doing a little bit of business. An A-frame sign out front read OPEN CASH ONLY in big red letters on a stark white background. “Maybe we should check it out.”

“I don’t know,” Jody said, regarding the broad-shouldered Latin men standing outside the store.

From the way they carried themselves, the men were probably hired muscle. They scanned the people entering the deli with strong gazes, as if trying to determine friend or foe. They practically stared holes through an approaching black man, even though there was nothing outwardly wrong with the guy. In fact, other than some graying stubble on his cheeks, he seemed pretty well off.

The black guy stopped in front of the biggest guard. “What, a black man’s money isn’t green enough for you?”

The big guard sighed. “Sure. Sure,” he said, waving the man to the door. “Just gotta be careful, you know.”

“Don’t worry. Al Sharpton isn’t taking my calls, so no one’s going to be picketing the place,” the black man said with sudden humor.

The big guard snorted, and his white teeth flashed. The smile disappeared as a group of teens, a mix of blacks and Latinos, rolled up on bicycles, laughing and guffawing. The big guard nodded at his buddies, and they drifted toward the front door as the black man stepped inside. The guards stood in front of it, faces immobile.

“
Qué es lo que está pa’ sopa?
”
asked one of the youths, a squat, flat-faced boy with a Yankees baseball cap reversed on his head. “You ain’t gonna let us in, mano?”

“Not all at once,” the big guard said.

“Oh, and why’s that?” a tall, reedy black kid asked.

The big guard ignored him and kept his eyes rooted on the first kid. “Because I know what you about, Julio.” He nodded toward the street. “Them bikes, they even yours?”

“Course!” Julio said, puffing out his chest a bit.

The other men grinned and shook their heads. The big guard noticed Rob, Jody, and Vincenzo rolling up, and he held a hand up to Julio. “Stay here,” he said. “I’ll deal with you in a second.”

“You guys are open?” Rob asked, as he mounted the sidewalk. He glanced at the teens with a neutral expression, and they looked back with insolent smirks, despite the fact that Rob was easily as big as the tall Latino presiding over the guard detail.

When they saw Jody, one of the Latin kids nudged another with a big smile. “
Que buena estas,
” he said, not even bothering to lower his voice.

The guard silenced the teens with a brutal glare then turned back to Rob. “We are,” he said, studying first Rob then Vincenzo. He favored Jody with a small smile. “But like the sign says, cash only. No power, no credit, no ATM.”

“That’s fine,” Rob said.

“Hey,
hermano
, what about us?” Julio asked. “We got cash.”

“You wait your turn,” the guard said.

“But we was here first! You going to let white people in ahead of your own people?”

“We’ll have to talk ’bout you even getting in at all,” the guard said. He jerked a thumb toward Rob. “Them first then I’ll think of letting in
some
of you… with an escort.” He twisted his wrist until his thumb was pointing at one of the men behind him. “And José is inside already, just in case someone decides to try to do something with the register.”

“Damn!” Julio threw his hands in the air. “I just want to get a Coke, man!”

“Then you’ll have one.” The guard turned back to Vincenzo’s group. “Quick rules, ’cause I see you’re not from around here. Prices are set, no bartering. Get in and get out as quick as you can, no loitering. Try to steal something, you deal with us, and we’re not the police.”

“No one’s going to steal anything,” Vincenzo said.

“Yo, little one has balls,” the tall black kid said, snickering.

A few people came out of the deli, carrying plastic bags full of goods. The teens watched them with hooded eyes.

The guard waved Vincenzo toward the door. “Go ahead.”

The interior of the deli was hot, but as soon as they stepped inside, Vincenzo noticed a lot of activity near the refrigeration section. It took him a moment to figure out why: the refrigerators and freezers were still working.

“Babe, you see that?” Jody asked Rob, pointing down the aisle to the row of glass doors along the rear wall.

“We still have refrigeration, folks,” said the burly Hispanic man behind the cash register. His bald head shined in the muted light coming in through the windows. So did the nickel-plated 1911 .45 caliber pistol in his shoulder harness.

“How’d you manage that?” Vincenzo asked.

“Generator,” the man said. “Installed it after Super Storm Sandy. Finally getting to run it now.”

Once the man mentioned it, Vincenzo became aware of the hum of a generator somewhere behind the building. “You have ice?”

“For about the next sixty seconds. It’s a hot item, if you’ll pardon the pun.”

Vincenzo grabbed a hand basket from the stack beside the door and made a beeline for the refrigerators with Rob and Jody in tow. Several people were already there, helping themselves to whatever they needed. Vincenzo spotted a bag of ice and grabbed it. There were only four or five left. He also tossed in several energy drinks and some bottles of water.

“You going to be able to use all that ice, Tony?” Rob asked.

“No. You want some? I’ll split the booty with you.”

Rob smiled. “Awesome! I’ve got a cooler in my pack.”

Vincenzo walked through the deli, picking up bread, peanut butter, toilet paper, another package of pre-moistened towelettes, and various other items. By the time he made it to the front counter, his hand basket was full. He wondered how he’d manage all the extra weight, but he figured a lot of it wouldn’t last for long, especially not the liquids.

“Get what you needed?” the man behind the counter asked.

“Heck, yeah. Unless you guys have some MREs?”

The man shook his head with a grave smile. “That stuff, I never stocked. In retrospect, a bad decision.” He waved toward the deli counter, where a display case was still half-stocked with meats and cheeses. “You want anything from the deli? It’s not gonna last for much longer and no chance of restock.”

Vincenzo nodded. “Yeah. Pastrami on rye. Lots of spicy mustard with kraut.”

“Lourdes!” the man shouted.

A young woman drifted out from the back, her long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. She carried a flashlight in one hand and looked annoyed. “I’m right here, Dad.”

“One pastrami on rye with the works.” The man turned back to Vincenzo. “Anything else?”

“I’m good. Actually, add a Pepsi to the tab.”

The man pressed some keys on his cash register, which must’ve been drawing power from the generator as well. “Ninety-three twenty-seven.”

Vincenzo frowned. “Really?”

“It’s the new economy, pal,” the man said as he began placing the purchases in plastic bags. “Demand is high. Just be glad you’re not Edgar there”— He pointed toward the black man who had entered before Vincenzo—“I’ll own one of his kids before he gets out of here.” The guy was headed for the register with two hand baskets full of food and a case of cold Corona under one arm.

Vincenzo pulled out his wallet and counted out five twenties. He took his change, pocketed it, and picked up the plastic bags. As he headed back to the coolers for his soda, he saw the man behind the register watching him in the dome mirrors. Vincenzo grabbed a cold bottle of Pepsi then strolled over to the deli to wait for his order. Rob and Jody brought their purchases to the register. Their tab was a little over a hundred and fifty dollars.

“Ah, we don’t have that much,” Rob said.

“Then how much you got?” the owner asked.

Rob pulled out a battered canvas wallet and opened it with the tearing sound of parting Velcro. “Uh, eighty-two dollars.”

The man began separating items out of the pile. Most of what he removed were liquids and other cold items that would likely enable him to upcharge customers as the day wore on.

“Here, I’ll make up the difference,” Vincenzo said. He went over and tossed more money on the counter. The man behind the register accepted the cash and handed Vincenzo the change.

“Thanks a million, Tony,” Rob said sheepishly.

“That’s really nice of you,” Jody added.

“Not a problem,” Vincenzo responded.

“Hey, maybe you can help me out, too?” the black man with the beer said. He smiled broadly to show he was only joking.

“Okay, but it’ll cost you the beer.”

The man’s smile disappeared with drama. “How about some nice sticky buns, instead?”

They both laughed, and Vincenzo returned to the deli counter to get his sandwich.

The girl handed it to him with a strained smile. “There you go. Pickle’s in the bag. You need extra mustard, napkins, salt and pepper?”

“No extra nothing, Lourdes. I told you that already!” the owner snapped.

Lourdes rolled her dark eyes and shrugged at Vincenzo.

Vincenzo smiled and thanked her then moved back to where Rob and Jody were waiting for the owner to finish bagging their purchases. He looked out the front windows and saw the local teen toughs outside, staring at the storefront. They were no longer engaging the guards. They seemed to be merely waiting.