Find Big Fat Fanny Fast (16 page)

“What else is in it for me?” she said.

Yuan Dum Fuk put his forefinger under Peggy Soo's flat nose.
“Well, number one, I won't freaking kill you. And number two, I won't tell the police you shot Billy the Blade.”

Peggy Soo shrugged. “There better be a number three. A very good number three.”

Yuan Dum Fuk smiled. “And number three, you can blow me all you want. Day and night, and twice on Sundays.”

Peggy Soo smirked. “If I can find it first.”

He grabbed her by both shoulders and shook her hard. “Don't be so insulting to a Chinese gentleman like me.”

Peggy Soo reached down, grabbed Yuan Dum Fuk by the crotch and squeezed. “And number three, I want to go to Las Vegas to see Wayne Newton. I just love Wayne Newton.”

Yuan Dum Fuk grimaced. “Wayne Newton? You can't be serious. He sings like a fag.”

She squeezed harder. “I don't care what you think. I want Las Vegas and I want Wayne Newton.”

Yuan Dum Fuk’s
face was turning a deep red and sweat spilled down both his cheeks. “OK. OK. Las Vegas it is.”

She let go of his crotch and Yuan Dum Fuk bent over in pain. He took several deep breaths, straightened up, then grabbed her hand. “Let's get the hell out of here before the cops come.” He tried pulling her down the steps towards the basement.

She spun him around and tried pulling him up the steps to her apartment. “What are you stupid?
My apartment is one flight up. We can hide there until this all blows over.”

Police sirens blared from the street outside. Yuan Dum Fuk let go of her hand. “I have to go through the tunnels to meet someone on Doyers Street. I'll get in touch with you tomorrow.”

He started down the steps to the basement, then turned around. “And another thing. I shot The Blade. Not you. Understand?”

She smiled. “The way you shoot, nobody's going to believe you shot him anyway.”

“Just do what I say. I was the shooter and don't you forget it.”

That said, he turned around and rushed down the steps to the basement. He stepped over The Blade's dead body and disappeared down into darkness.

Peggy Soo rushed down the steps to The Blade's body. She went through his pockets and found a huge roll of hundred dollar bills. She stuffed the roll into her bra, then sprinted up the stairs to her apartment. At the top of the steps, she peeked over the railing and spotted two policemen rushing into the building. She slipped into her apartment and doubled-locked the door behind her.

Peggy Soo stood breathing heavily, her back against the locked door.

Then she smiled, thought of Wayne Newton and sang in a whisper, “
Danke Schoen, my darling Danke Schoen...”

CHAPTER 15

Two Different Worlds

It was a sunny, spring afternoon, when Junior stooped to pick up a large glob of dog poop with a paper towel. The poop was provided by a German Shepard named Brutus, a dog that had been willed to Junior by the estate of the dearly departed Billy the Blade. The Blade had no wife, no children and no blood relatives on this earth. So of course, when The Blade met his untimely death, he had no will either. When Junior found out The Blade had been whacked, he rushed to The Blade's Mulberry Street apartment, before the police could get there. He used the key The Blade had given him “just in case” and cleaned out all The Blade's worldly possessions.

The dog, of course, Junior found first, because as soon as he walked through the front door, Brutus jumped up, put his paws on Junior's shoulders and gave Junior's face a nice warm tongue bath, probably soon after Brutus had just licked his own balls and butt, because that's what his breath smelled like anyway.

Junior quickly found some jewelry hidden in a coffee can in the refrigerator, but finding hard cold cash was not an easy thing to do. After about twenty minutes of frantic searching, Junior finally hit paydirt. Twice.

First, he found a hidden safe, dug into the floor of the bedroom closet, hidden by about a dozen pairs of Georgio Brutini shoes. Now opening the safe was no problem for Junior, since his father had taught him safe-cracking 101 as soon as Junior was old enough to count to three. Other kids played with GI Joes or erector sets, but Tony B taught his son how to crack safes, in case this skill would come in handy some day. And now it did.

Junior only found five grand hidden in the safe, along with a few old snapshots of The Blade and Junior when they were half-in-the-bag in some seedy night club, which could be one of about a thousand they had partied in throughout the years. Junior knew there had to be more cash hidden someplace in the apartment, but with the police most likely making an appearance within the hour, Junior didn't have time to pillage the place completely.

Then he saw it. It was in the middle of a row of books, in a narrow bookcase, standing in a corner of the living room wall. The title was “The Complete Works of William Shakespeare.” Every other book in the bookcase was a mob book.

“Honor Thy Father,” by Gay Telese.

“The Godfather,” by Mario Puzo.

“The Valachi Papers,” by Peter Maas.

“The Complete Works of William Shakespeare” was about as likely to be on Billy the Blade's bookshelf, as a book on “How to Teach Yourself Ballet in Three Easy Lessons.”

Junior snatched the book off the shelf and immediately became another twenty grand richer. The inside of the book had been surgically removed by a sharp blade and stacks of hundred dollar bills inserted in place of the pages. It looked like Billy the Blade had learned this trick from Louis J. Lombago, who was notorious for hiding his money in the manner.

Junior was about to leave, when Brutus started moaning and groaning, probably because he hadn't eaten in a few minutes. Junior could not bear to leave the dog alone in the apartment, knowing full well that after the cops found him, Brutus would certainly be destroyed, because who wanted a crap machine with the appetite of a gorilla anyway?

So Junior took Brutus under his wing and into his apartment, over the severe objections of his father Tony B.

“I ain't walking no fucking dog.” Tony B told Junior.

Junior shook his head. “Why with the dirty language all the time? Fuck this and fuck that. You really have got to stop your cursing.”

“OK, I'll try,” Tony B said. “How about this? I ain't walking no effin' dog. Period”

“Much better,” Junior said.

Tony B was not finished. “You want the mutt, he's your responsibility. You walk him. You feed him. And if he eats the effin' furniture, you put an effin' bullet in his effin' head. Do ya hear me?”

Junior agreed to all his father's demands and when Brutus did eat a kitchen chair, on his first day in the apartment no less, Junior replaced it so fast with a duplicate from a furniture store owned by a friend, his father was none the wiser. Junior had seriously thought about buying a duplicate piece of furniture for every piece in the apartment and keeping them in storage, in case of an emergency, like Brutus getting hungry in the middle of the day when no one was home. Which in fact was what Junior finally did. It only set him back a few hundred bucks, because their apartment furniture was so cheap, Ralph Cramden would have been embarrassed.

On that fateful, sunny afternoon, Junior was strolling in Columbus Park with his new best friend Brutus on a leash, when Brutus spotted a female German Shepard being walked on a leash by a pretty young Chinese girl. They were right in front of the old Bayard Street Park House, which had been a dance hall dating back to the 1920's.

Brutus bolted forward so fast, he pulled the leash right out of Junior's hands.

The Chinese girl screamed and her dog immediately turned her butt toward Brutus. In seconds, Brutus had mounted the female German Shepard and they were doing the dirty dance of lust in the middle of the park. Fast and furious.

Junior sprinted toward the dogs and tried to pull Brutus off the female dog, but Brutus would have none of that. He turned his head and snapped at Junior, which Junior thought was the same thing he would do, if the situation were reversed

The Chinese girl was frantic. “Oh please stop them! Stop what your dog's doing to my poor Daisey Mae!”

Junior surveyed the situation and shook his head. “Lady, I don't know what to do. We might just have to wait till they're finished.”

“We can't do that,” she said. “I was just going to the vet's office to have her spayed. I got her yesterday at the ASPCA. She's a dog rescue. She might get pregnant!”

Junior tried pulling Brutus away again, but Brutus snapped at Junior twice, nicking Junior's hand and drawing blood. Junior backed off again. “Sorry lady, but he just won't let go!” He wiped the blood off his hand with a handkerchief.

“Why didn't you have your dog neutered?” she screamed at Junior.

Junior shrugged. “He's not my dog anyway. I just got him a few days ago. My friend, whose dog this was, died a sudden death. So I took in the dog so he wouldn't get destroyed.”

Suddenly both dogs started howling louder and spinning in circles.

“Oh, my God! He's going to get my poor Daisey Mae pregnant!” she yelled.

Suddenly, an old Chinese woman waddled fast out of a Chinese Restaurant on Mulberry Street, a bucket of water hanging from her right hand. She rushed into the park, reached the dogs and poured the entire contents of the bucket on Brutus' head.

Brutus yelped and shook violently. And like a cork propping out of a champagne bottle, he became dislodged from Daisey Mae.

The Chinese woman shook her fist at Brutus, who was now whimpering. “You bad dog!” Then she turned to Junior. “And you, you keepee your dog on leash, you moron!”

That said, the old Chinese lady rushed across the street, back to the restaurant and disappeared inside.

The Chinese girl bent down and petted Daisey Mae. “My poor Daisey Mae” She looked up at Junior. “I hope she's not pregnant.”

Junior pointed to his right leg and shoe. Both were saturated by a white gooey substance.

He leashed Brutus. “I don't think that's going to be a problem,”

“You think that's all of it?” she said.

“It's hard to believe it's not all of it. I think the old lady nailed him just in the nick of time.”

The Chinese girl stood up and offered Junior her hand. “My name is Lily Low.”

Junior grabbed her hand gently. “Junior. Junior Bentimova. “

They looked at each other quizzically.

“You're not related to Tony B Bentimova, are you?” she said.

Junior's shoulders slumped. “Unfortunately, he's my father.”

“Oh,” Lily said.

“You said your name is Lily Low. By any chance, are you related to Hung Far Low?”

Lily bowed her head. “Yes, unfortunately, he's my father.”

“Oh,” Junior said.

Lily put her hand to her mouth. “Oh my God.”

Junior smiled. “Hey, that doesn't mean we can't be friends, does it?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “No.”

“Good. But it might be a good idea not to tell our fathers that we're friends.”

“Not a good idea at all.”

“How about we walk around Columbus Park, just to chat?” Junior said.

“How about you bring your dog home and I'll bring my dog home. Then we'll meet someplace for coffee?” she said.

“Good idea, but maybe we should meet outside of the neighborhood. Just to be safe.”

“OK. There's a coffee shop on John Street, just off Pearl. Know where it is?”

“No, but I'll find it,” he said. “Meet you there, in say, an hour?”

“An hour is fine.”

And that chance meeting between two people on a sunny, spring day in Columbus Park changed the dynamics of the entire neighborhood for generations to come.

*****

Nicky Knuckles had been laying low since the death of his good old pal Billy the Blade. It didn't take a genius to figure out Nicky was involved with the death of Norman Chung, and wary of being whacked by the Chinese gangs, he took a small one-bedroom apartment on Sullivan Street in the West Village.

Since someone whacked Billy the Blade, there had been an all-points bulletin, issued by Tony B, to kill Yuan Dum Fuk on sight. Bosses like Tony B and Hung Far Low were off limits for the time being, so it was the underlings of the two big shots who were now laying low and hoping for a rival to make a mistake, so that they could do the whacking themselves.

All hitters on both sides were scared to death, except for Junior, who walked around the neighborhood like he didn't have a care in the world. Nicky felt that maybe Junior thought he was bulletproof, or maybe he was just plain crazy. Nicky put a greater value on own his life than Junior did. If Junior or Tony B needed his services, they would call the neat new mobile phone Nicky carried with him that Tony B had given all his crew members. Otherwise, Nicky would stay in his cozy apartment, having everything delivered, from groceries, to pizza, to booze from the corner liquor store. And when he got the urge, Nicky called an escort service to provide him with female companionship, which usually lasted less than ten minutes, then they were out the door.