Unhooking the Moon (22 page)

We sat there for a while without talking and then she sat up by herself. When she tried to stand I helped her to her feet. She looked steady enough and so I packed away our sleeping bags and collected the rucksacks.

‘Promise you won't leave me here. You're my brother. You have to look after me even if you don't love me!'

‘I do! I will!' She freaked me out talking like that. ‘Besides, I'll never leave you. Who would I have to drive me insane?'

She never said anything. I hated it when she never said anything. I brushed a dead leaf from her hair and, putting my arm around her, I walked her out of the park.

We found a coffee shop on the East Side and, sitting her in a comfy seat, I spent the last of my money buying her a mocha. I texted Joey telling him she'd had a fit. And I asked him when he would return to New York. Then I texted Tommy and told him we were no longer with Ice. Then I looked at the Rat. It's amazing what a mocha could do for her. The colour came back into her face and she scanned the customers for any signs of sophistication.

‘We'll give it two more days,' I said. ‘Then we'll go home if you want.'

‘Are you kidding? We'll stay here until it's snowing in the streets, if we have to. You can't wimp out on me now, Bob.'

I couldn't believe what I was hearing! It was like her fit had never happened! Then, for the first time, my phone rang. ‘Hello.'

The Rat put one of her pointy ears next to mine.

‘You lost Ice? What did he do, melt through your fingers? I can't leave you kids alone for a minute! Meet me in Dave's Diner on the corner of 70th and Third!'

Then the line went dead. Me and the Rat looked at one another. Then the Rat's phone went. ‘Hello. Marie Claire DeBillier speaking … Yo, Joey! What's happening, kid? … I'm fine. It was nothing … He exaggerates. He's an exaggerator … Sexy Sandra said we never turned up? No, we found somewhere cheaper. Shewer. OK, Uncle Joey, we'll see you later. Bye … Joey will be back from Atlantic City around six. He'll pick us up on the other side of the Brooklyn Bridge where he dropped us off. And we can stay with him. Come on, let's go meet Tommy.'

We walked the dozen blocks to Dave's Diner and found Tommy reading the paper. He scowled at us as we sat down. ‘I suppose you want breakfast. You don't deserve breakfast. Call yourself a hustler!'

The Rat smiled and folded her arms. ‘He was gonna call the cops, Tommy. What could we do?'

Tommy's eyes went shifty. ‘We could make money from that story. New York rapper turns police informer.'

‘We'll do nothing of the sort,' said the Rat. ‘Ice is our friend. He had our best interests at heart, didn't he, Bob?'

‘Give me a break,' said Tommy. ‘He only cares about his career.'

‘How did you get on, Tommy?' I asked.

Tommy held up the
New York Post
. The headline read: Iceman Saves Elderly Man From Being Mugged. And below the headline was a picture of Tommy with his arm around Ice. And to the left of the picture was the Rat. She grabbed the paper and held it in front of her. ‘Fame at last!'

‘You see what happens when you're acquainted with Tommy “the maestro” Mattolla. And the
Post
always pays.' He said pulling a wad of cash from his pocket. ‘Two grand all in all. And now I'm going to sue them so they can pay me some more.'

‘What did they do, Tommy?' I asked.

‘Can't you read? They called me elderly! Elderly! I'm in my early fifties, or thereabout. They'll settle out of court, of course. Should get another grand out of them at least.'

‘We were on TV as well,' I said.

The Rat collapsed the paper in front of her.

‘Little Joe texted me. He said Miss Gabriela Felipe Mendez saw us on TV with Ice. It must have been when we were going in the Marriott.'

The Rat sat back bewildered. ‘The TV as well!'

A waiter came to the table. ‘OK, breakfast is on me,' said Tommy.

‘We'll have two American breakfasts,' said the Rat.

‘You know Jerome DeBillier, Tommy?' I asked.

Tommy frowned. ‘Jerome DeBillier, I know that name from somewhere.'

‘He's our uncle. You think you could help us find him?'

‘Sure, I'll help you find him. But for now we have to concentrate on getting you and Ice back together. That's where the money is. Always go with the money!'

Me and the Rat grabbed our bikes, which we had left at the den, and pushed them back through the bushes.

‘We have to meet our friend Joey on the other side of the Brooklyn Bridge at six,' said the Rat. ‘But we can hang out with you until then.'

‘Hold on a minute,' said Tommy. ‘Who's this Joey character? Who wrote him into the script?'

‘He gave us a ride to New York,' I said. ‘And he's going to put us up until we find our uncle. He's Italian, Tommy, like you.'

‘I'm Sicilian, we have a little more class than those mainland mutts. And as I've got nowhere to stay, and nothing better to do, I think I'm gonna tag along with you kids. Make sure you're OK, if you know what I
mean. There's a lot of strange types in this city.'

We got three cartons of tea from a park café and sat in the shade of an old tree. I gave Tommy my rucksack and, laying it against the trunk, he got comfortable. ‘So what you wanna be when you grow up, Marie Claire?'

‘I'm going to be an actress. I'm going to be the greatest actress ever!'

‘Yeah, well don't forget your Uncle Tommy. Remember I made you money in Times Square and fed you when you were hungry. It's important to remember those things. What about you, Bob?'

‘A journalist, I think, for a magazine.'

‘A noble profession. I'm thinking about writing myself one day.'

‘Did you really used to be an attorney, Tommy?' I asked.

‘Sure, I was a good one too. But I ended up defending the wrong people, getting in with the wrong crowd, if you know what I mean. Then I was convicted of jury tampering. It all fell apart after that. The marriage collapsed, the kids never spoke to me again.'

‘You have kids, Tommy?' said the Rat.

‘Sure, three girls. She turned them against me, of course. I should never have married her. She made
slurping noises when she ate and she laughed like a machine gun … Ah, to hell with them. One day I'll go back to Sicily and buy a small farm by the ocean. And I'll tell you something else,' he said sitting up. ‘I think it's gonna happen! Whether it's something to do with Ice or meeting you kids, I don't know. But I think my boat is finally going to come in, and if you kids do right by me I'll let you sail on her. Yes, sir, big things are going to happen to Tommy Mattolla, big things!'

Then his cellphone went.

‘Hello … I understand. OK, I'll be there. Sonny, I said I'll be there and I'll be there!' Tommy put his phone away and stood up. ‘Come on kids, let's go!'

The Rat jumped up. ‘Where are we going?'

‘West Side. An area known as Hell's Kitchen.'

We followed Tommy out of the park and on to Central Park West where he flagged down a taxi. The first taxi wouldn't take the bikes, neither would the second. But the third taxi driver, who wore a turban, didn't mind. He even helped us put them in the trunk. The Rat sat in the front seat and looked back at us through the reinforced glass. ‘Is Hell's Kitchen a kitchen, Tommy?'

‘No, it's not.'

‘Why do they call it a kitchen then?'

Tommy never answered her; he just mumbled and looked out the window. He'd turned into a proper grouch all of a sudden. And so the Rat turned her attention to the taxi driver.

‘Are you a Sikh?'

‘I am.'

‘Do you like being a Sikh?'

‘Yes. I find it very fulfilling.'

‘We go to church sometimes, and I have Native beliefs. But I'm a bit of a Buddhist as well.'

‘Well it makes no difference to God whether you pray by a river or up a mountain. And so I'm sure it makes no difference to Him whether you pray in a temple or a church.' He smiled at the Rat. ‘It's about connecting, you see, like tuning in a radio. You should find a religion that gives you the best reception.'

‘What if there's no reception?' said the Rat.

‘Well …' said the taxi driver.

So we headed downtown with the Rat and the taxi driver talking about religion; thank God it was only a short journey. We soon pulled up outside a bar on the West Side and, taking the bikes from the trunk, we locked them to a lamp post.

‘Goodbye, little one,' said the Sikh taxi driver. ‘Have a happy life.'

‘I'll do my best,' said the Rat, and waved at him as he drove away. ‘I think that taxi driver was an angel.'

‘Me too,' said Tommy. ‘He's the only taxi driver I've ever met who drove off without the fare. Now, you kids, wait here. I'll be out in a minute.'

The bar was dull inside, and empty except for a single barman polishing glasses.

‘I want a drink,' said the Rat, and followed him inside.

‘You can't go in there!' But she did and so I followed her.

‘Tommy, can I have a Coke?' asked the Rat sitting down next to him.

‘You kids think I'm made of money?' shouted Tommy. ‘Can't you see I have problems?' He wrung his hands nervously and then he looked at the Rat. ‘Sorry, Marie Claire. I didn't mean to shout.'

A big balding man with tattoos all over his forearms came out of a back room and sat at the table. He looked at me and the Rat and then he opened a small black book.

‘He'll see you in a minute,' he said. ‘You got it all?'

‘I got one thousand, nine hundred and thirty dollars,' said Tommy handing him his wad of cash.

The man looked in the book. ‘You're short by one thousand and seventy dollars.'

‘Sonny, the money you've had off me over the years and you're making a big deal about a thousand bucks!'

‘Hey, you wanna gamble that's your business,' said the tattooed man. ‘Now you listen to me, Tommy Mattolla! I know you from the old neighbourhood. You were friends with my old man and I've always had a fondness for you. But Big Frank, he don't like you. He's waited three weeks for his money, because I asked him a favour, and when he sees it's short you're gonna have to suffer the consequences!'

Tommy seemed to sink in his seat. ‘Is it that bad, Sonny?'

‘I'm afraid so.' Sonny got up and returned to the back room.

‘Listen, why don't you kids make your way back to the park?'

‘Are you in trouble, Tommy?' I asked.

He tried to smile. ‘No, it's just a misunderstanding. Now you run along and I'll call you later.'

Sonny stood in the doorway of the back room. ‘Tommy.'

Tommy stood up.

‘I'm coming with you, Tommy,' said the Rat standing next to him. ‘For good luck.'

When Tommy looked down at her, he had tears in his eyes. ‘You kill me, kid! You really do!' Then he turned to me. ‘Bob, get your sister out of here!'

Tommy walked towards Sonny and they went in the back room. The Rat looked up at me and then she bolted after him. So, of course, I had to follow her!

‘Get out of here!' shouted Sonny.

‘No!' shouted the Rat. ‘We'll leave when Tommy leaves!'

There were four mean-looking men in the back room. The biggest of them sat behind a desk. He had thick curly hair and a big face. ‘What's this, Tommy?' he asked. ‘You bring your kids with you in the hope I'd show you some mercy. You're pathetic!'

‘Your money will be here in a couple of days, Frank,' said Tommy. ‘I'm on to something.'

‘You're a small-time hustler who got his picture on the front page of the
Post
with the Iceman. That's where you got the almost two grand. But almost two grand don't pay the reaper.'

The man was calm when he spoke, but there was something scary about him. He was a very scary man.

‘How many times can you slip in a supermarket, or step out in front of a moving car? Nobody's been knocked down more times than you, Mattolla. No,
the insurance companies have bankrolled you for the last time. How are you going to get my money? You gonna tap dance in Times Square?'

Tommy looked angry. ‘What do you care, Frank? You always get it in the end!'

‘That's true. But being made to wait by a cheap hustler like you is an insult. And I've been insulted too many times. I'm gonna break your hand, Tommy. It's for your own good. Someone get me that lumphammer. And get these kids out of here!'

Two of the men grabbed hold of Tommy.

I couldn't believe they were going to hurt him! He was an old man!

Sonny grabbed hold of me and the Rat and dragged us out the room.

‘Let go!' cried the Rat.

I looked back. They were holding Tommy's arm on the desk. Big Frank was holding the lump-hammer. ‘No.'

‘Ah!' cried Sonny, and looked at his hand.

The Rat had bit his finger! She ran back into the room. ‘You better not touch him! We have friends downtown!'

Everybody froze.

That's it. We're dead! The Rat had finally got us
killed! I felt like shaking her and telling her we didn't know where downtown was!

Big Frank leaned forward on his desk. ‘Like who, little girl?'

‘Like the Iceman! He's our godfather!'

Frank looked at the front page of the
Post
. ‘Yeah, you're there with him. So let's say, for now, he's your godfather. Is he going to pay me the money I'm owed, today?'

‘No, but he's paying Tommy five thousand dollars for tracking down our long-lost uncle, Jerome DeBillier, and he's going to pay him another five thousand when he finds him.'

‘Anyone know this Jerome DeBillier?' asked Frank.

‘I've heard of the name,' said Sonny.