The Hoods (42 page)

“Can I do anything for you boys? Is everything all right? I hope my partner showed you boys around. Does he know who you are?”

Max said, “Boy, this lunkhead is a real tauchess licker if I ever met one. He sure is a first-class brown nose.”

“Yeh, the Fairy knows who we are,” I said. I was going to add, and he wasn't as impressed as you are, you big shmuck. But I left it unsaid.

Did you notice the beer, whiskey and slot machines? They're from the proper sources, aren't they?” he asked. “I'm kosher all around. I make sure of that.” He gave a sycophantic laugh.

“Yep, we checked,” Max said tersely.

Liar, I thought. We didn't even think to check anything but female contours.

“Before I forget,” Max said, “I want you to do something for me.”

“Sure, anything, sure, what can I do for you?”

“Put that little girl on in your new show. She's a helluva good singer.”

Max pointed to the diminutive charmer who was sitting patiently and demurely at her table.

“That's in my partner's department. But don't worry. It'll be taken care of. A nice little piece.”

Mike lifted his eyebrows roguishly.

“We're waiting for Salvy,” Max said.

“That guy a friend of yours?” Mike asked. Quickly he added, “You don't mind me asking, do you fellers?”

“He's no friend of ours, and we don't mind you asking,” I said.

“You sound as if he's no friend of yours either,” Max said.

“No, he ain't.” Mike looked furtively over his shoulder. “Salvy has had an affair with the Fairy. Besides shaking him down he wants a piece of the joint.”

“So what do you intend doing?” I asked.

Big Mike shrugged his hulking shoulders.

“Can't you handle him?” Max questioned.

“The guy takes a needle; he's a junky,” Mike said.

“So that's what makes him tough?” I asked.

“He's nasty, he's a killer.”

Mike looked hurriedly around again. “He uses an ice pick.”

“He does sound like a bad boy,” Max said sarcastically.

“Do you mind if I ask a personal question? If it's none of my business I want you fellows to say so.”

“Go ahead, shoot, Mike,” Max said.

“Are you here to give Salvy the 'business'?” Mike asked with a hopeful expression on his face.

“No, but that's some question to ask, Mike,” I said to chasten him.

“I'm sorry,” Mike said humbly.

“We're here to put him in line, if that will give you any solace,” I said. “This ain't a friendly visit as far as he's concerned.”

He nodded, a little satisfied.

Then he said woefully, “I don't know what to do. He threatened to push the Fairy out. He wants to muscle in as my partner. I don't care for the goddamn Fairy, but I know what Salvy'll do after that. He'll push me out, and take the joint for himself.” He wrung his hands like a woman. “Christ, this lousy business, this goddamn Prohibition. Nothing is legit. I can't go to the cops; this place is illegal. As far as the cops are concerned, there is no Eden Garden, except on payoff day. And they don't give a good goddamn who takes over. As long as they get their payoff.”

“It's tough all over,” I murmured.

“Even the subways are in a hole,” Patsy said.

Cockeye continued our private gag. He said, “Even the Palisades are on the rocks.”

“Horseshit,” Max said.

“What?” Mike asked.

“Nothing,” I said.

“Can't you fellows do something? The Fairy told Salvy to drop dead yesterday. Salvy will kill him sure as hell. He's nasty that way, that Salvy.”

“So, he'll kill the Fairy. That's no skin off your ass,” Max said impatiently. “Or ours for that matter,” he added.

“I'll make it worth your while,” Mike said tensely.

“What will you make worth our while?” Max asked casually.

Mike looked slowly and fearfully all around the room. He leaned closer. In an awestricken voice he faltered, “The Fairy and I will pay ten grand if you give Salvy the 'business.'”

Max shook his head slowly, “No, Mike. We don't do those things for hire.”

Only in the line of duty, I said to myself.

A girl came walking over. She was the one with the wonderful, beautiful, perfect, bouncing protuberances.

“Tootsie,” she called out.

“That's me. Excuse me, gentlemen.”

I walked over to her.

“I didn't want to interrupt, but I'm leaving.”

“So, you're all set?”

“Yes, I'm to report tomorrow for practice and rehearsal. That Theodore is a marvelous dancing master. I want to thank you—tonight.”

She said it with a seductive smile on her face. “But where? And when?”

I clowned a little. I bent over to look down her neckline. I licked my lips and said, “M-mh, mmh, I'm hungry.”

She giggled, “After Theodore, a normal man is refreshing.”

“You've got what Theodore hasn't got.” I patted her on her curvy tauchess.

“Leave that for tonight, Tootsie boy.”

I gave her the address of my hotel and the suite number.

“You want supper before or after?” I asked.

“Before.”

“Steak or chicken?”

“Steak and french fries,” she said.

“Supper will be served at nine,” I said.

“The other thing will be served at ten,” she said as she went out the door.

In groups, pairs and singly, all the girls left. We watched as the Fairy danced solemnly around the dance floor accompanied only by the tinkle of the piano.

He twirled and capered with an uninhibited, unabashed and dazzling artistry. One moment his feet twinkled in a mad rhythmic tap interpreting anger and frustration. Then around and around he went, his hands waving with the graceful significances of a hula dancer.

He stooped in front of me out of breath, and whispered, “I danced a message especially for you.”

I walked away without comment. Maxie laughed. We sat and waited around. It was one p.m. Cockeye, to the disgust of the Fairy, foraged round the kitchen. He came out with thick ham and Swiss cheese sandwiches. We sat eating, and drinking highballs.

Big Mike came over.

He said with an apologetic smile, “I guess I'll leave you fellows. Salvy'll be here soon. I can't stand it, in case there may be rough stuff.”

We looked at him coldly.

Max grunted, “Okay.”

He left.

Baldy, the piano player, left, right after Mike. Theodore retreated to the cubby hole of an office. Through the glass door I saw him writing in a big ledger.

I looked at the clock over the bar. It was one-thirty. We sat around drinking and smoking, hardly talking.

The door opened. Two people walked in. Both about five nine. One was middle-aged and stocky; the other, young and whippet lean. I sized them both up as Irish. I shook my head to Max. Salvy was Italian. Willie was German.

He said, “Yep, that's not them.”

They stood, looking around. Casually, I meandered over.

“Looking for somebody, fellers?” I asked.

The older one said, “We have an appointment with Salvy and some people.”

The young one looked at me curiously, with a tinge of hostility.

I said, “Yeh, Salvy told me, we're in on this with him. He'll be a little late. Meanwhile we can become acquainted. Have a drink with us?”

Without waiting for their response, smiling sociably, I took them under the arms and led them to our table.

Max looked at me.

I nodded and smiled. “These are part of the group Salvy told us to expect.”

I reached for the bottle. I poured two drinks.

The young one said, “Thanks, I don't drink.”

The older one smiled as he reached for his. He said, “Thanks, I do.”

In my most gracious manner I pulled up two chairs.

I said, “Won't you fellows sit down?”

They sat down, looking at us self-consciously.

I said, “May I introduce ourselves?”

I tried to make my laugh as self-conscious as their behavior. I gave fictitious names. I said, “My name is Morris, this is Miltie,” motioning to Max, “and this is Murray and this is Mario.” I gestured to Cockeye and Patsy. Maxie laughed at all the names which began with an “M”.

The older man smiled in a friendly way and said, “People call me Fitz, short for Fitzgerald, and he's Jimmy.”

“Another drink, Fitz?” Max asked.

“Yes, I don't mind,” Fitz said.

“Which group do you fellows represent?” Max asked.

“Oh, it's pretty obvious,” I said coyly.

“We're from the union,” Fitz said. “We're the delegates.”

“Yeh, I supposed so,” I said sagely.

“How's it going?” Max asked smiling.

“Any action?” Cockeye asked.

Max gave him a warning look. He tightened his lips as a sign for him to keep quiet.

“Not much action, the little there is—Salvy sent some of his boys out. That helped a little,” Fitz said.

Cockeye gave Max a triumphant look.

“So a little progress has been made,” I prompted.

“Yes, not bad. There's a few buildings Salvy don't want touched. I guess he has his reasons,” Fitz said.

“I don't like it, the way things are run,” the young man named Jimmy said.

Fitz sighed. He gestured with his head to Jimmy. “He's new in this business; he just got elected. He thinks he's a knight in shining armor. Out to save the downtrodden workingman.”

Fitz patted the young Irishman on the back. “You got ideas, Jim, but you got to play ball with people.”

Fitz turned to us. “You ought to see this kid at a meeting. A real spellbinder.”

Jimmy muttered, “I promised the men this would be on the up and up.”

I looked at the young Irishman. He had a clean, fresh, honest look about him.

I said, “Listen, Jim, in this labor business you got to be a politician, just like Fitz said. You got to compromise your position at times.”

He shrugged. He looked at me stubbornly.

“I don't compromise. What is there to compromise? The men who elected me depend on me for honest representation. They aren't making a living. Married men, making twelve and fifteen bucks a week for fifty-four and sixty hours work, and Salvy said to keep my shirt on, and he'll get us a buck raise. Without shorter hours or any other conditions.” He looked around at us stubbornly, “I came here to tell Salvy off, I got hundreds of men and their families to take care of.”

“For Christ sake, Jim,” Fitz said, looking around at us apologetically. “Excuse the kid, fellows, he's a little excited.”

“Jim's all right,” I said. “Never mind what Salvy said. What do you expect?”

Fitz said in a shocked tone, “Never mind what Salvy said?”

He looked at me uncertainly as if I had committed blasphemy.

“Yep, never mind what that snake bastard said. He's out of the picture,” Max said grimly, looking at Fitz.

Fitz looked at Max. Then at me. Then at Patsy. Then slowly at Cockeye. We were all smiling. We were genuinely amused at the awe on his face. Just because Max had said snake bastard.

“Nebish,” I said.

“What?” Fitz asked.

“Nothing,” I said.

“I thought you guys were friends of Salvy's,” Fitz said. “What are you guys doing—taking over? Muscling in?”

“Yep, that's what we're doing,” Max said.

“Oh,” Fitz said with a nascent understanding.

“I don't like this,” Jimmy said.

“I don't blame you, Jim,” I said. “Now, tell me, what's the 'package' you would like to deliver to your men?”

Jim looked dubiously at me for a moment. Then he blurted out, “A forty-eight hour week, forty cents an hour minimum and time and a half for overtime. Pay and time off for the legal holidays and recognition of the union.”

“Wrap it up, Jim,” I laughed. “The package is yours.”

Max looked at me and smiled. He nodded, “Okay.”

Jimmy and Fitz looked at me as if I were crazy, or, at least, kidding.

“How are you going to produce a package like that for me to deliver to my men?” Jim asked. “On whose authority?”

“That's our problem; you follow instructions and everything will be all right,” Max said confidently.

“I don't know how you fellows can be so positive. What are your relations to this strike? What I mean is, what's your interest, what do you fellows get out of it?”

Before I was able to think of a reply, Fitz snapped at him. “For Christ's sake, Jim, don't be so goddamn green. Their interest is the same as Salvy's. They're taking it all over. The union, everything.”

“I don't know. I didn't like it then, and I don't like it now. It isn't good unionism.”