Tony Partly Cloudy (29 page)

“Yeah, I think so too. Thanks again, Jimmy.”

“We’ll talk soon,” Jimmy said.

There was a metallic click, then an overly enthusiastic female voice said, “If you’d like to make a call, please hang up...”

Tony got back in his car and drove home. There was another call he needed to make, but he knew she’d be asleep by now.

♠ ♥ ♣ ♦

Early the next morning Tony called Frankie, and arranged for the two of them to talk on nearby payphones. Half an hour later, Tony picked up on the first ring.

“Hello?”

“Tony, whatever this is about, we better make it quick. I only got a few quarters.”

“Tell you what, Pops. Gimme the number where you are. Then you can hang up and I’ll call you – I got a roll of quarters.”

Tony fed the payphone, and waited for the call to go through. Then he told his father about his predicament.

“Jesus, Tony. I never saw nothing like this coming.”

“Me neither.”

“So what’s your gut tell you? How serious are these guys?”

Tony sighed. “My gut tells me I need some bromo – my stomach’s in knots over this. But these guys – they’re pretty serious. They’re kind of assholes, too – you know, all caught up in thinking they’re these cool gangsters.”

“Shit,” Frankie said. “I freakin’ hate those Vegas pricks. It’s just like I always told you.”

“I know! They even introduced themselves as being with
the Outfit
.”

“Gimme a freakin’ break.”

“I know,” Tony said. “Unbelievable. But yeah, they’re serious. I don’t think they’d whack me or nothing, but they could really screw up my career, bigtime, and they know it.”

“Christ, Tony. You worked so hard for all this.”

“Tell me about it. That’s why I don’t know what to do. If I play ball, I get to keep my job, but then I’m dirty. And if I don’t play ball, I’m clean, but I’m unemployed.”

“Have you talked to Jimmy?”

This question surprised Tony. He was afraid to answer; afraid Frankie would be offended that he had called Jimmy first. But this was business...

“Yeah, I called him last night, after those guys showed up. I would have called you, but it was real late, and—”

“You did the right thing,” Frankie said, cutting Tony off. “I raised you to be smart, and you made a smart call. So what did Jimmy say?”

“He talked about me making like, a counter-proposal.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, play ball, but set some, you know, parameters. I was thinking maybe I tell them I’ll do it, but just this once. I figure whatever money they give me, I could give to charity or something. I mean, no offense, but I really don’t want to make
any
money off the family business anymore. I’m grateful for the opportunities it gave me, but I never wanted to go all the way into that line of work, you know?”

“Of course I know,” Frankie said. “That’s been my position all along. Sure, I do them a favor here and there, but I never did nothing, you know, really
bad
for them.” Frankie’s voice grew softer, more serious. “Tony, I don’t know what you think of me. I mean, I know I got a reputation as a tough guy, but I never whacked nobody. In case you ever wondered.”

“I know that. I might have wondered a little, when I was a kid. But as I got to know you better, I figured that out. I mean, I get why you never went full-time into the business. That’s not the kind of guy you are. And it’s not the kind of guy I am.”

“I’m no choirboy...” Frankie began.

“In our neighborhood, nobody was,” Tony said. “I sure as hell wasn’t. But you didn’t raise me to be some thug. I know that, and I appreciate that.”

Tony heard his father flicking the wheel of his Zippo repeatedly. “Damn thing’s supposed to work in the wind,” Frankie said. Then a long exhalation indicated Frankie had succeeded in lighting his cigarette.

“Tony, one thing you gotta think about, with this counter-proposal thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You ever know anybody in the business who would walk away from a good, steady score?”

“What are you saying?”

“This weather scam. You gotta admit, it’s a pretty fucking smart idea. Sure, you may tell them you’ll only do it once, but what’s to keep them from coming back and pressuring you to do it again? And then you’re right back where you started.”

“Shit. I don’t know, I was hoping maybe they’d respect my counter-proposal. You know, treat it like a serious business agreement.”

Frankie exhaled slowly, no doubt releasing more second-hand smoke into the Brooklyn air. “Tony, I think you’re too used to dealing with guys like Jimmy. If Jimmy makes an agreement like that, you know it’s solid. But this is Vegas. Those scumbags would sell out their mothers if they thought there was any money in it.”

“Shit.”

“You said it.”

After they ended the conversation, Tony looked at his watch. She would be up by now, and would probably be home. He dialed the number, but hung up on the first ring. He wasn’t sure how to talk to her about this, not yet.

Tony walked away from the phone booth, his breath trailing clouds of vapor in the cold morning air.

IT WAS ANOTHER WEEK BEFORE HE GOT THE CALL. Tony was lounging in his recliner, sipping his second cup of coffee and watching the morning news with the sound turned off when the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“It’s Eddie,” a voice said. “Remember me?”

Tony sighed. “Manicotti, right?”

“That’s Macaroni, you asshole.”

“Whatever.”

“Jesus, you’re going to be a ball-buster to the very end, aren’t you?”

“Was there something you were calling me about, Eddie, or did you just want to shoot the breeze?”

“I’d rather shoot
you
, you smart-mouthed prick. But yeah, there’s something. Have you thought any more about what we discussed at our last meeting?”

Tony laughed bitterly. “You mean at your last home invasion?”

“Have you thought about it or not, asshole?”

“Yeah I’ve thought about it,” Tony said, “and I don’t like it.”

Now Eddie sighed. “So you’re not going to cooperate? This is not good news. Especially for you.”

Tony said, “I didn’t say that. I said I didn’t like it. And this isn’t something I’m willing to do on a repeated basis.”

“But?”

“But I’ll do it once. Once. No repeats. No
hey, that went well, let’s do it again
crap. That’s my offer. You take that to whoever pulls your strings and tell them that’s my final offer: one time only, so place your bets.”

“Nobody pulls my strings,” Eddie said.

“Bullshit. You’re no more the brains behind this than that asshole Bugsy. You’re just a foot soldier.”

“More than I can say for you – you’re just a pussy civilian,” Eddie said, his voice contemptuous.

“Whatever,” Tony said. “I’m just saying, you guys get to boss me around once. That’s it – once. Take it or leave it.”

Eddie was trying to gain some ground. His voice grew conspicuously deeper. “Who the hell are you to tell
us
what we can take or leave?”

Tony decided to play the card. “I’m Jimmy Carbone’s freakin’ nephew, that’s who. You want to mess with the
Electrician’s
family?”

There was a pause. “Carbone’s nephew? Bullshit.”

Tony tried to maintain his momentum. “Hey, make some calls, check around. We’re related. I’m not like a first nephew or whatever you call it. It’s more like second nephew or grand nephew – I don’t know the actual title. But you can ask Jimmy. Or
Uncle Jimmy
as I call him.”

Eddie said, “You can bet your ass I’ll check that out.”

“You do that. And when you’re done, you can bet
your
ass on one of my forecasts. But only one.”

Tony was amazed to hear himself saying these things, speaking so aggressively to what was probably a fairly dangerous man. But everything about this Eddie guy really pissed Tony off.

Eddie said, “We’ll be in touch.” Then he hung up.

Two days later, he called again.

“For Christ’s sake,” Tony said, rolling over in bed to look at his clock. “It’s two o’clock in the freakin’ morning.”

“Sorry,” Eddie said, his voice not sounding a bit apologetic. “I keep forgetting the time difference. It’s only midnight here, and I thought a big boy like you would still be up. But I guess when a guy’s as butt-ugly as you, he needs all the beauty rest he can get, am I right?”

“Fuck you,” Tony said, “I’m in no mood.” Yawning, he said, “So what do you want?”

“I’m just calling to let you know we accept your terms.”

“What terms?” Tony asked, wanting Eddie to have to state them out loud.

“Your one-time-only thing. It’s a deal. We’ll only have you do this once. Me, I think you’re a freakin’ moron for not wanting to milk this thing. But we made some calls...” Eddie’s voice tapered off.

“And?”

Eddie sighed. “And our sources back East confirmed what you said about Jimmy Carbone.”

Tony smiled. “Oh, you mean
Uncle
Jimmy?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Eddie said. “Anyway, we’ll be in touch soon, to let you know when to do your little forecasting act. So be ready.”

“I’m ready when you are,” Tony said. “I want to get this crap over with.”

“Man, I just don’t get you. Here you got a shot at making a freakin’ killing, and you blow it all to play some idiotic holier-than-thou game.”

“The weather isn’t a game to me,” Tony said.

“Yeah, whatever,” Eddie said again. “Oh, by the way. You haven’t heard
our
terms yet.”

“What the hell are you talking about,
your
terms?”

“Jesus, relax, asshole. I’m talking about your slice of the pie.”

“What?”

“Christ, you
are
a moron. You aren’t even interested in how much you’ll be making for, uh, performing this service? Well, since you’re too stupid to ask, I’ll tell you. We’re giving you fifteen percent of the take. Pretty generous if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you,” Tony said. “And you can keep it. I don’t want any of
the Outfit’s
money.” Tony’s tone was contemptuous as he named Eddie’s employer.

“What a putz,” Eddie said. “Fine. Then there’s more for us. Thanks for the donation, asshole. We’ll be in touch. Be ready.”

Eddie hung up before Tony could reply.

♠ ♥ ♣ ♦

Two weeks went by. Then three. Tony began to allow himself to idly hope Vegas had lost interest, had decided to abandon this scheme. But he knew he was kidding himself.

It was 6 A.M. when he got the call.

“It’s me. Eddie.”

Tony said, “No shit. What do you want? And hey – aren’t you up kinda early?”

Eddie laughed. “Me? Hell, I haven’t even gone to bed yet. Unlike you, Mister Boy Scout, I have a life.”

“And what a rich and fulfilling life it must be,” Tony said, surprising himself with his capacity for sarcasm so early in the day.

“Blow me.”

Before Tony could retort, Eddie continued. “I’m calling to tell you today is the day.”

Tony sat up in bed. “Today? This is it? You don’t give me any warning?”

“This
is
your goddamn warning, asshole. Your next forecast isn’t for almost twelve hours, if I’m getting the time zones right. How hard is it to come up with a wrong forecast? Hell, the assholes on TV here in Vegas get it wrong all the time.”

Tony thought about his forecast the night before. “But the timing’s all wrong,” he protested. “We’ve got a weather system sitting on top of us that’s not going away any time soon. I can’t just say it’s going to be sunny tomorrow when we’ve got hundreds of miles of cloud cover in every direction.”

“Hey, you’re the whiz-kid with the weather,” Eddie said. “You’ll figure something out.”

“And wait a minute,” Tony continued. “I was just wrong a few days ago. I blew a rain prediction just last Tuesday.”

“I know,” Eddie said, with a giggle that was almost girlish. “That’s the beauty part. The odds against you being wrong again so soon are through the freaking roof. We’re going to rake in a
serious
haul from this one. Hell, the ultimate would be to bet on you being wrong the very next day after you’re wrong. You’ve never been wrong two days in a row, at least not since we been tracking you. But we didn’t want to make anybody suspicious by placing big bets, so we waited a couple days. You know, not to be greedy.”

“Oh yeah, you guys are
never
greedy,” Tony said. “This is bullshit.”

“No, it ain’t. It’s business. And it’s what you agreed to. If it makes you feel any better, we’re still willing to cut you in for ten percent.”

“I thought it was fifteen.”

“Hey, what happened to the altar boy who didn’t want
any
money?”

“I still don’t,” Tony said. “But you know what? I bet you didn’t tell them, did you? I bet
you’re
going to pocket that money, and tell them you gave it to me.”

Eddie whistled. “Damn – I shoulda thought of that. See, Tony? You
do
have a mind for this stuff. Shit, maybe you actually
are
related to Jimmy Carbone.”

“Fuck you.”

Eddie’s voice became quiet. “You’ve said that to me before, Tony. And I don’t like it. Right now, we got business to do. But when this is over, don’t be saying
fuck you
to me, not if you know what’s good for you.”

“Christ, what is this – junior high?” Tony said. “Save the tough guy crap. But listen to me. What I said before – it’s a real problem. We got a big-ass weather system – you know, clouds and stuff – covering most of the Midwest. It’s going to be tough for me to come up with a wrong forecast that’s convincing.”

“You know what?” Eddie said. “I don’t give a rat’s ass. You got a job to do, and you just got told to do it. So get up there on the TV and
be fucking wrong
. You got that, Tony? You
capisce
?”

“Yeah,” Tony said, defeated. “I
capisce
.”

Tony put the phone back on the receiver and rolled over in bed, wrapping himself up in a cocoon of sheets and blankets. It wasn’t going to be a good day – sometimes you could just tell.

After a couple of fitful hours of tossing, turning, and in general treating his bedclothes to a wrestling match, Tony once again sat up in bed and stared at the phone. He had been putting it off long enough – he had to talk to her, and he knew it. Resignedly he punched the numbers into the phone, and listened while it rang once, then twice.

“Hello? Hey, it’s me – Tony,” he said in a gentle voice. “I know, I know. I miss you too.”

Running a hand through his hair, he continued. “Listen, the reason I called – I need to ask your advice on something. Here’s the thing. If you had to choose between doing something that was wrong, but wouldn’t really hurt anybody; and doing something that was right, but that could really mess up your life; which would you choose?”

Tony eased back in his bed, listening to the familiar, reassuring voice. Then he smiled, a sad, resigned smile. “Uh huh. That’s kinda what I thought you’d say.”

Idly twisting the coiled telephone cord between his fingers, Tony nodded. “I know,” he said finally. “I know. Listen, I gotta run, but I appreciate the advice. And you’re right – I know you’re right.”

He sat back up in bed, smiling again. “I love you, too. Thanks for... well... just
thanks
.”

Tony gently hung up the phone, and swung his legs over the edge of his bed. It was time to get up and face the day.

♠ ♥ ♣ ♦

Tony went in to work early, spending the morning studying the weather data that WGX’s instruments constantly collected. It was as he had expected: every sign indicated they were in for more of the same weather. Overcast with occasional showers. Hell, he thought, any schmo who went outside and looked up at the sky could tell you that – it didn’t take a freaking meteorologist.

The predictability of the weather was a problem. If he went on TV saying it would be sunny, they’d have him committed. And who knows – if those Outfit clowns bet too heavy and called attention to themselves when they won, people might start putting two and two together, and Tony could end up getting in the same kind of trouble that Vegas was currently threatening him with. No, this forecast had to be believable. Believable but wrong.

Morning turned into afternoon, and Tony paced anxiously around the meteorology equipment, watching the flow of incoming weather information for any changes he could use to his advantage.

They said in Chicago that if you didn’t like the weather, wait ten minutes. It was a cliché, but an apt one, Tony thought. The huge lake influenced the area’s climate in ways that continued to surprise him, and he delighted in unwrapping the mysteries of the skies over northern Illinois.

But the day was offering no such mysteries: although sudden changes were common, none seemed to be occurring today. Shit.

Finally Tony resigned himself to predicting a sudden and extreme temperature change. He didn’t need to alert his staff or alter any of the maps being prepared for the six o’clock broadcast; it wasn’t uncommon for Tony to spring little surprises during his forecasts. So yeah, he thought, a fifteen-degree drop should do it. No, make it twenty. That way he’d be
very
wrong. With an odd mixture of relief and resentment, Tony made his way to the Wardrobe department to get ready for the hair-and-makeup ritual.

Fifteen minutes before air-time, Tony stepped outside into the parking lot – another ritual. He enjoyed the break from the hectic preparations that preceded each newscast, and it also let him take one last reading on the weather, not using any machines or instruments. Just
feeling
the weather.

It was his favorite part of the day, these few minutes in a Chicago parking lot. Eyes closed, it was only a moment before the sounds of the city faded away, and he was alone with the weather. Smelling it. Tasting it. Feeling it. This was where his forecasts really came from. The instruments, the data – all that stuff was useful, and helped him confirm his intuition. But the main instrument he used was himself. Tony smiled grimly.
The Gift,
Nona Maria had called it. Today it didn’t feel like one. Today it felt—

Tony’s eyes snapped open. Today it felt...
wrong
.