ClownFellas (36 page)

“Hold up,” Uncle Jojo told Beano on the way out of the ice cream shop.

He tried to act natural as he rushed to the bathroom and locked himself inside. Then he collapsed against the back of the door, clutching his chest. The underboss was having an attack, which had been building up throughout the meeting with the French clowns.

“Damn cheap piece of crap,” Jojo said to his heart.

He went to the mirror and unbuttoned his orange suit, then wiped the sweat away from a small keyhole above his left breast. He inserted a brass key into the hole and then wound up his heart like a music box. He coughed as his ticker beat back into life, returning to its normal rhythm. Uncle Jojo had the mechanical heart implanted years ago when his heart failed and he was too old to get on the donor list. Nobody in the Bozo Family knew about his condition, not even his brother. It was a sign of weakness and he didn't want anyone finding out.

The problem was that the heart was basically a cheap Tinkertoy that wasn't meant to last long. Jojo had tons of money, but he was stingy with it and always went for the cheapest deal, even when buying himself a heart. The gears were getting rusty. The ticking noise had become more of a croaking sound. He used to have to wind it only a few times a month, but recently he'd been needing to wind it multiple times a day. It needed to be replaced ages ago, but Jojo just hadn't found the time. If he didn't get it taken care of soon enough it was going to kill him. And until then he needed to relax and lay off the stress, but lately it seemed like stress had been getting handed to him by the truckload.

As Jojo put the key back in his pocket and rebuttoned his shirt, he looked at his reflection in the mirror and said, “Where do you get off?”

Jojo looked around the bathroom, wondering who he was talking to. “Huh?”

Jojo repeated himself. “I said, where do you get off?”

Jojo looked at his reflection and pointed at his chest. “You talking to me?”

His reflection nodded. “Yeah, I'm talking to you, ya balding prick. Where do you get off selling out your own nephew to the French? He's family. You don't do that to family.”

“Hey, that little shit's had it coming to him for a long time.”

His reflection just rolled his eyes at him. “Yeah, maybe he deserves it from somebody else, but you? You should be on his side. If you don't like his behavior you should do what you can to help him correct it. But you don't help his enemies take him out.”

Jojo was about to punch the mirror. “What the hell do you know, ya fat bastard? I'm not doing this because I'm heartless. On the contrary, I'm doing it for the well-being of my daughter. If I have to choose between Jimmy and Taffy I'll choose Taffy every time.”

Jojo's reflection chuckled. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. But you know there's other ways you could've taken care of this.”

“Like what?”

“Like moving the wedding out of town or, better yet, hitting them before they hit you. Send Mr. Pogo after them. Take out the Juggler Brothers and their long-legged father. That'd slow them down.”

“I couldn't do that. It would start a war. We can't afford a war right now, not with Manny Malone shutting us down left and right.”

“Well, why not talk to your brother about it? Maybe he'd disagree with you.”

“I know he'd disagree with me. He always disagrees with me. And if he had to make the call he'd rather send this family into ruins than give up his son. It's best for everyone if I handle it.”

“You discredit your brother's resourcefulness. Him and Blue Nose could probably figure out another way if you gave them a chance. Instead, you go off and have a sit-down with the French behind their backs, then roll over to their terms because you're too weak to come up with anything better.”

“Look, who do you think you're talking to?” he yelled into the mirror. “This family would be nowhere if it weren't for me. Without my ideas we'd still be some pathetic vanilla gang just scraping to get by like Dad did in the old days.”

“Hey, don't get so upset,” his reflection said. “I'm just telling you what you're already thinking. There's no point in arguing with yourself like some kind of loon.”

“It's what has to be done,” Jojo said.

“Fine, it's what has to be done. But before you go through with it, just think about what it's going to do to your brother. He sees Jimmy as the future. Without his son, he'll lose hope for the future. He won't be the same clown. He'll crumble.”

“Then I guess it'll be time for me to finally take over the family.”

“And you'll do a better job?”

“I always do a better job.” Jojo unlocked the bathroom door and then looked back at his reflection. “As I said, the family would be nothing without me.”

Jojo always liked to think that it was his idea that the family got into the clowning business back in the day, but it was really his brother's. Jojo had been completely against it. In fact, he'd thought it was nuts.

Thirty years ago, there was no Bozo Family. There was no Uncle Jojo, no Don Bozo. They were the Balzanos—Joey and Tommy Jr. Balzano. Both were in their early thirties when their father died and left them the family business. But things weren't going well. The old ways of doing business just weren't panning out the way they used to. A family of three hundred made men and countless associates had dwindled down to only a dozen or so. They had to do something drastic if they were going to survive. That's when Joey's older brother had an idea. He thought they should get into the clowning business. With the Comedy Prohibition Act passed in Washington, the joke trade was a new business opportunity that no other families had tapped into yet. Tommy wanted the Balzano Family to be the first.

“But why become clowns?”

Joey thought his brother was only joking at first. They were at their old hangout, a hot dog shop they'd once owned and operated as a front for their real business.

“Because it's perfect,” Tommy said, shoving a hot dog in his mouth.

Tommy wasn't the morbidly obese man he became later in life, but he was always a bit pudgy in the face and he was always a big eater. He had three hot dogs on his plate and was ready to steal Jojo's if he wasn't fast enough.

“I understand the comedy business,” Joey said, drinking a rum and cola out of a fountain drink cup. “We should move on that before any of the other families beat us to it. But why do we have to become clowns in order to do it?”

Tommy wiped the mustard from his chin. “Because it's a loophole. Even though everyone else in the country is banned from telling jokes, clowns can still get away with being funny. Telling clowns to stop being clowns would be racial discrimination. The cops can't do anything about it.” Tommy took another bite of hot dog and continued while chewing, spraying food everywhere. “It's like how those Native Americans are still able to grow peyote and magic mushrooms on the reservations even though it's illegal everywhere else in the country. If comedy's a part of our culture, we'll be protected.”

Joey didn't know what was wrong with his brother. “But becoming clowns…how can you be serious? Why would you even want to be a clown for the rest of your life?”

“That attitude's exactly what's going to put us ahead of the other families. None of them have the balls to go clown. Even if they try to get into the joke trade, they'll hesitate once they have to transform their DNA. They got too much Italian pride for that. But, see, we're desperate. We got nothing to lose. And if we become the first clown family in town, nobody else will be able to compete with us.”

“But that serum that turns you clown is supposed to be dangerous,” Joey said. “What's it called again? Happy Juice? You've got to be a nutcase to inject yourself with that crap.”

“There's a little risk, but it's worth it.”

“And what about starting a family? You really want to marry a clown woman? Have clown kids? I saw on the news when they showed those videos of that first clown baby born in San Francisco last year. The thing looked like it came out of a nightmare. I couldn't imagine having one of those things running around my house.”

Tommy crumpled up a hot dog wrapper and went for the next one. “What do you have to worry about? You always said you're never getting married.”

“I'm not. The idea of being with only one woman for the rest of my life drives me insane just thinking about it. But still, what if I knocked a girl up? I don't want a kid with giant feet, rainbow hair, and a big round nose. It would be an embarrassment.”

“Well, everyone else is on board,” Tommy said. “And the decision has to be unanimous. Do we go clown and give ourselves a fighting chance, or do we let everything Dad spent his whole life trying to build up just crumble and die?”

Joey thought about it, but he couldn't figure out any other option. He hated to admit that his brother was always the idea person. He wasn't sure if it was his rum and cola answering for him, but he agreed.

“Fine, we'll do it your way, but this better work out. If I become some idiotic clown for nothing, I don't care if you're my brother, I'm going to cut your balls off.”

“Hey,” Tommy said with a mouthful of hot dog. “I'm not just your brother, I'm also your boss. Don't ever forget that.”

By the end of the month, the Balzanos became the Bozos. Every member of their crew had turned clown and they moved to the new but quickly growing community known as Little Bigtop. At first, Joey wasn't too fond of being a clown. He didn't like clown girls and most normal girls didn't go near clown guys like him. The only good thing was that the money started flowing in. That kept him going for a couple of years.

But one day, he found a clown girl that he could fall in love with. She wasn't like the other clowns. She wasn't the loopy goofball type that he hated so much. She seemed normal, like a regular human woman in clown makeup. Her name was Gianna and within three short months he realized he was completely in love with her.

“I completely despise that woman,” Jojo said the second his wife left the room.

He'd been arguing with Gianna so much that day that he had to wind up his heart every two hours. Their daughter's wedding was coming up in less than a week, and Gianna blamed everything that went wrong on him. She was always trying to turn Taffy against him.

“Why didn't you order the confetti cake?” Taffy yelled at her father.

“Your mother said red velvet cake would be better,” Jojo said. He sat in his recliner, trying to relax as his daughter flew around him.

“But I want a traditional clown wedding. It's not a clown wedding unless there's a confetti cake. And it should have gumballs and strawberry filling. I told you a million times!”

Taffy was running through the house, wearing her fluffy pink wedding dress with the back wide open. She was trying to do several things at once, speaking to her father as she put together carousel centerpieces, painted the cake topper, and picked out her husband-to-be's tuxedo from a catalog—it had to be a suit in a shade of pink that would match her hair—all while getting her dress hemmed.

“I'll take care of it, sweetie. Don't worry.” He took a sip of blueberry cognac.

Taffy flipped frantically through the catalog to find a good suit, but none of them was perfect.

“Are the circus animals going to be there like you promised?” she asked.

“Yeah, I talked to Berryman, the caretaker. He'll be able to get the elephants and juggling seals. Maybe even the lion.”

“What about the ponies?” Taffy asked. “It's not a clown wedding if I don't ride a white pony down the aisle.”

“I don't know if my brother has any white ponies, but I'll make sure you have a white pony one way or another.”

She gave up on finding her husband's tux and went back to painting the cake topper—a bride and groom holding hands within a heart. Taffy thought it was the perfect topper for their cake, but they didn't make it with a clown bride so she had to paint it herself. She wanted the little figures to look exactly like her and Pinky.

“What about the circus music?” she asked. “I need a clown orchestra playing circus music. That's the most important part.”

“Yeah, sure. I spoke to Reverend Jellybottom and he's even going to bring in the church choir as well.”

“What about Bingo? Will he be playing violin?”

Jojo shrugged. “Well, Bingo plays more of that classical stuff. He doesn't do circus music.”

“I don't care. I want Bingo to play violin. Pinky says he's the best. Everything has to be the best.”

“Fine, I'll talk to him.”

“And I want you to order Vinnie Blue Nose to be Pinky's best man.”

“You want me to what?” Jojo nearly spit out his blueberry cognac.

“Pinky wants Spotty to be his best man, but I don't. That clown's gross. He'll ruin all the wedding photos with those insects crawling on him.” Just thinking about Spotty's pet roaches sent shudders through her marshmallow-white skin. “Tell Vinnie I want him to be the best man. Vinnie will be perfect, because he always wears blue. Blue and pink are the wedding colors.”

“Can't you just let Pinky choose his own best man?”

“Not if it's Spotty!” Taffy cried.

“Does this have to be my job? I can get the animals, music, and cake, but this sounds like something you should work out with your groom. It's got nothing to do with me.”

“They all work for you, don't they? They'll do whatever you say. Even Pinky.”

Jojo didn't know how to say no to his daughter. “Fine. If that's what you want, I'll see what I can do.”

Then Taffy charged into the hallway to go after Gianna. “Mom! I thought you were working on my dress!”

As she waited for her mother to come back, Taffy held out the tuxedo catalog to her father and pointed at the one that best suited her needs. “I want this one. Have it overnight-shipped tomorrow.”

“Shouldn't you at least show it to Pinky before ordering it?”

“He'll love it.”

When Gianna entered, she was rubbing her forehead beneath her short lipstick-red hair, trying to endure the headache that had been mounting from spending the day helping her daughter.

“Somebody keeps calling and hanging up,” Gianna said. “It's the fifth time today. I'm getting sick of it.”

“Come on.” Taffy faced her back to her mom, pointing at the bottom of her dress. “Keep going. This has to be done tonight.”

Gianna just ignored her daughter and said, “I keep hearing somebody breathing on the other line, but they don't speak.” Then she stared at her husband with exhausted eyes. “You better not be sleeping around again.”

“Huh?” Jojo had no idea where that came from. “I'm not sleeping with anybody.”

“I'm serious,” Gianna said. “I'm not going to stand for another psychotic floozy throwing pies at you through our bedroom window.”

“That only happened once and it was ten years ago.”

“Just one more time and I'll divorce you so fast—”

“Mom!” Taffy cried, so tired of being ignored she stomped her feet. “My dress!”

Gianna fake-smiled at Taffy and took out her sewing kit, wondering if she could play it off as an accident if she stabbed her daughter in the back of the leg with a needle.