Chapter 12
Mid-December
V inny “The Mooch” Massella and his goofy pal, Jimmy
“How’d ya get into such a mess?” Jimmy asked, as he wiped his nose on his sleeve.
Vinny looked at him in disgust. “Didn’t anybody ever tell you to use a Kleenex or something?”
“Yeah, but it was running, and I don’t have one.”
“Whatever,” Vinny huffed at his childhood friend.
The two had lived on the same street in Brooklyn when they were kids, almost forty years ago.
Both had spent their youth hanging around the pizzeria, doing odd jobs for the owner at the time.
Vinny would mop the floors, and Jimmy would clean the counters.
The place was immaculate, assuring they would get an “A” rating from the Board of Health.
They only failed once, when someone left an “occupied” rat trap in the back room.
Everyone lived in fear of the proprietor, Louis Amato.
When he was informed the restaurant had failed the health inspection, he demanded to know who was responsible.
Nobody wanted to be a snitch, but Jimmy’s eyes darted in Vinny’s direction.
Amato caught Jimmy’s glance and fired Vinny on the spot.
That’s how Jimmy became known as “Jimmy the Snitch.” Later that day and every day after, Jimmy argued, “I ain’t said nothin’ to nobody,” which was true, but everyone knew Jimmy had a terrible poker face.
Vinny knew Jimmy was just a simple soul and had no inclinations toward malice, so kept him under his wing. However, his wing was about to be broken unless he could convince Bucky, the current owner of the pizzeria, to give him more time and figure out a way to raise some serious cash.
Several years earlier, Louis retired and sold his “business” to a musclehead named Bucky Barflow. He was scarier than Louis. Much scarier.
“I miss the old days,” Jimmy said with a touch of melancholy. “The Amato family had principles, ya know? I mean, they would cut you some slack if you were loyal. Now, these guys—from somewhere I never heard of and can’t pronounce—they got no manners.”
Vinny had to chuckle at that. Manners wasn’t exactly what was missing. Human decency was terribly lacking. It had been replaced with depraved indifference.
At fifty-two, Vinny was still living rent-free in the upstairs apartment of his mother’s two-family home, hence the name “Vinny the Mooch.” His mother didn’t mind.
She had her boy around. He helped with the laundry and bought groceries, and they watched professional wrestling together on Friday nights.
His mother would howl at the grown men bouncing each other around and curse at them in Italian.
There was a time that Vinny lived the high life.
He had a solid union job and made good money.
But he never could hold on to the cash. He liked the ladies and enjoyed showering them with gifts.
He also liked the ponies. Not the kind at a county fair, but the ones at the racetrack.
It didn’t take long for him to rack up some serious debt.
Like many other gamblers, he was constantly going for “the big win” or “the sure thing.” As the money began to thin, so did his stable of female companions.
There was little interest in a chump who was down on his luck and had a gambling problem.
Vinny’s life had become a boring routine, until now. Now, his well-being was in danger of not being well.
In the past, he was able to cover his bets, but lately his luck seemed to have run out.
He recently borrowed 10,000 dollars from his mother, using the story that he needed a down payment on a new car.
When she asked to see it, he told her it was being shipped from Florida.
Six weeks had passed, yet no car. She stopped asking.
He was feeling quite downtrodden. His life was an embarrassment.
“So how come you’re in this pickle?” Jimmy pressed the issue that Vinny clearly did not want to discuss.
“Somebody gave me a tip for the Belmont Stakes. It was going to pay thirty-six to one. So, I placed ten clams with Bucky.”
“Ten thousand? Wow. Did it win?” Jimmy asked innocently.
“What do you think? I wouldn’t be in this mess if it did.”
“Wait. I’m no mathematical genius, so how did it double? Was it the vig?” Jimmy was referring to the interest on an unsecured loan from an unauthorized “lending institution.”
“Yep.”
“Whoa. Isn’t that like loan sharking?”
Vinny looked up at the heavens and placed his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. “Bucky isn’t really running a pizzeria.”
“Right. Right. Right. Right. Right.” The connection had sunk in. “So whaddya gonna do?”
“I have an idea.”
“Cool. Like what?”
“Let’s see if Bucky will give me a two-, three-week stretch. Then I’ll tell you, cause if he don’t, I’m probably gonna be laid up with casts on both my legs.”
Jimmy winced at the idea of Vinny getting his kneecaps slammed. “Can’t you work it off?”
“What, with minimum wage?”
Jimmy nodded as they shuffled their way to Vinny’s fate.
When they got to the shop, a few regulars were sitting inside at a small table.
Bucky was perched on a stool, wearing a tank top which exposed tattoos from head to toe.
Vinny didn’t want to think about the ones that weren’t visible.
Not that he ever saw Bucky naked, but in the summer his body art was on full display, covering his calves and thighs.
Bucky’s big, chunky gold chains hung from his inked neck.
The nose ring reminded Vinny of a bull, not that it took a fertile imagination to consider the similarity.
Bucky nodded in Vinny’s direction, then jerked his head, indicating to follow him to the back room.
Vinny was silently praying he would be able to walk out the door on his own two feet.
Bucky folded his arms and leaned against the puke-green-colored cinderblocks. It occurred to Vinny that the place hadn’t been painted in an exceedingly long time, but that wasn’t a pressing issue at the time.
“Whaddya got for me?” Bucky seemed to increase in size, like an inflated cartoon character, with his facial tattoos growing exponentially.
Vinny took a deep breath. “It’s like this.” He paused, waiting for Bucky to lift him by the shirt and throw him against the ugly cement. “I need a couple more weeks.”
Bucky looked down at his prey. “You know the rules, Vin.”
“Yes, yes, I do, but I can pay you in full, and then some. If I have it calculated right, it’ll pay five times what I owe you. I have a deal in the works.”
“Yeah? What kind of deal?” Bucky shifted the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other.
Vinny began to explain his plan, while Bucky listened intently.
“You got two weeks,” Bucky relented. “But if you don’t deliver, it’s going to cost you an extra twenty grand.”
Vinny was so relieved, he thought he was going to wet his pants, and scurried past the looming Bucky to relieve himself.
His hands were shaking so badly, he could barely manage his zipper.
He swiped his hands under the faucet, shook them dry, and quickly exited the bathroom.
He nodded toward Bucky, then nudged Jimmy and half-bolted out the door.
Jimmy was almost as winded as Vinny. “What happened back there?” He scanned Vinny for any marks or bruises on his face.
“He gave me two weeks.” Vinny leaned over the nearest trash can and let go of the breakfast that was churning in his stomach. He reached over to Jimmy’s shirttails and wiped his mouth.
“Hey! Whaddya doin’?” Jimmy jerked away.
“Giving your mucus some company.”
“That’s disgusting,” Jimmy scowled.
“You’re one to talk.”
As the two ambled down the broken sidewalk, Vinny knew he needed Jimmy’s help and began to tell him the plan. “There’s a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of goods rolling in.”
“Yeah? So?” Jimmy had no idea where the conversation was going.
“So, I got a lead on where and when.” Vinny kept looking around to see if anyone was following them. Even though Bucky gave him some extra time, it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to get smacked around.
“No foolin’?” Jimmy asked. There was excitement in his voice. “How’d you find out?”
“Let’s not get into too much detail for the moment.” Vinny stopped walking and nodded for them to move closer to the building. “I cannot divulge my source; however, it’s an exceptionally good source. A beautiful source. You could say it’s a perfect source.”
“Yeah? For real?” Jimmy lowered his voice. “Come on, you can tell me.”
“Nah. No can do, but if you help me, I’ll cut you in on the deal.”
“Seriously?” Jimmy was enthralled at the idea of pulling a caper with Vinny.
It had been a long time since they did a few “shakedowns” for Louis when people owed him money.
It usually consisted of a punch in the gut, or a serious smack in the face, with a stern warning that more or worse would follow.
Jimmy was secretly happy he never had to inflict serious bodily harm on anyone.
For Louis’s customers, a stern warning was enough for them to mortgage their house or sell the family’s silver cutlery in order to cough up the cash.
Bucky preferred harsher “incentives,” which often required the use of a steel bar or similar leaden instruments.
Jimmy was content driving a delivery truck for his Uncle Frank’s liquor store. He got paid in cash and had a fair “allowance” to the inventory, but a little extra “green” was always welcome. “So, when is this going down?”
“Maybe the week after Thanksgiving, or the week after that. I’m waiting for the final details.”
“Whaddya want me to do?”
Vinny laid out a rough plan and what Jimmy’s responsibilities would be.
“Got it, boss.” Jimmy was flattered that his best friend and hero wanted him back on the job.
Kathryn pulled into Pinewood to survey the haul from Myra and Annie’s toy drive. The three met at the barn.
“Thanks again for a great dinner. I’m glad I came.”
“We’re glad you joined us,” Myra said.