Odd Jobs (11 page)

Blue Warm-up Suit stares at me for a minute and looks over at one of the guys that worked me over and says, “Yo, Hammer, you didn’t have to wait for me to get here. You know what we got to do here. Hey, you got any ground beef?”

Hooded Sweatshirt says, “Yeah, plenty, you want some?”

“For sure, Dawg, and a few T-bones,” says Warm-up Suit.

Hooded Sweatshirt heads toward the front of the store and disappears. I have enough sense right now to be scared shitless. What the fuck was I thinking? Why was this so important to me? It’s just a damn summer job.

Hooded Sweatshirt returns with two trays. One has some T-bone steaks and the other some hamburger meat.

“Thanks, Dawg,” Warm-up Suit says. I guess everybody is Dawg to him. “Now go wrap him up,” he says as he points at me.

I’m on my back. Wool Cap sits on my hands and stares at me with this intense, demonic look. Hooded Sweatshirt starts wrapping my forehead with the cellophane. He circles around my forehead and continues over my eyes. I am trying to struggle but I don’t have enough in me. He continues circling the cellophane over my nose. He keeps going. Now over my mouth. I am already having trouble breathing. He continues wrapping all the way down my neck.

My vision is blurred from the cellophane. I can’t make out their faces anymore but I can see them laughing at me. They’re not bluffing. This isn’t a scare. This can’t be it. Not like this. I am trying to breathe. I open my mouth wide and suck, but all I am doing is creating suction, the plastic is getting tighter. I can taste blood. I am losing air. I try not to breathe, but soon my body won’t let me resist and involuntarily, my mouth opens and I suck for air. There is no air. I feel my eyes beginning to bulge. Oh God, not like this. Please, I don’t want to end up in Lily’s locker.

The more worked up I get, the harder it is to breathe. But how the fuck do I not get worked up? My heart is throbbing; it’s ready to burst out of my shirt. They’re all just laughing at me; their voices are muted, but I can hear them pretty well.

It won’t be long now.

Another figure walks over to Hooded Sweatshirt, Wool Cap and Warm-up Suit and says, “What’s taking you guys so long tonight? You should have been outta here an hour and a half ago.”

I recognize the voice. It’s Jimmy Balducci. Thank God, please save me! I’m starting to black out.

“Zorry, Mr. Ball-du-zi,” says Warm-up Suit. “Some ash-hole broke in on us and was watching us.”

Balducci looks down at me squirming and says. “Pretty fuckin’ cool, the fuckin’ guy is turning purple. How long he been like this?”

“I dunno, pretty long time. He’s a stubborn son of a bitch,” says Hooded Sweatshirt.

Balducci puts his face right up to mine. Balducci starts laughing. “What the fuck you fighting for? Are you waiting for a miracle?”

“That is what he does, Mr. Ball-du-zi, he fights. You know, at the fights in the courtyard. He fights for Kosher World in the bouts this night. Tomorrow he becomes hotdog meat.” Warm-up Suit laughs.

Balducci stops laughing and puts his face down to mine again. He’s in on this. I can’t believe it. “Are you out of your fuckin’ mind? Get him some air, pronto. Shit, I’ll kill you, Zog!” Balducci shouts.

My mouth is wide open from my futile attempt to get air. Balducci takes a pen, holds my head steady and tries to puncture a hole for me to breath through. There are too many layers of plastic and he can’t break through. On the third try he comes down hard and finally a pop fills the room. The others come over with a knife and start cutting through all the cellophane.

I’m gasping so hard for air they are having trouble cutting through. I can’t help it. I am making honking sounds. There’s not enough air for me. It’s too late. I need more air. I am making sounds I’ve never heard from any human being or animal. So much pain and it won’t stop.

“Kevin, can you hear me?”

Nothing but gasps and coughs. I can’t say anything. All the cellophane is finally unwrapped. I am lying on my back trying to breathe as my body spasms wildly for a fix of air. The spasms start slowing down and my breathing starts to regulate.

Hooded Sweatshirt comes over with a cup of water. I can’t drink it, but I wish I could. I should fuck this guy up, but I’m so grateful to get air that my head is calm. I’m not sure if I’m holding back tears from when my nose got whomped or if I’m just appreciating being alive. Either way, I don’t have enough strength to get him back. I take the water and figure I’ll be able to drink it soon enough.

Balducci is sitting next to me and watching. He doesn’t really look too connected, like his mind is elsewhere. Here’s a guy I’ve known for six years. Donates money to the school, nice to his kids and treats me great. I’m thinking, Lucy, you got some splainin’ to do. Then again, is there any reason he needs to explain anything to me? If he doesn’t want me to know anything, then he could just repackage me in cellophane. That’s probably what’s going through his mind right now.

Once my breathing is almost normal again, Balducci informs me that we need to talk and instructs me to follow him in his car. I’m not sure if I am happy about this, but I know that pretending this thing never happened is probably not an option.

Driving isn’t easy but
I
manage somehow. We stop at a diner in Bayside. Balducci orders a cup of coffee and a mushroom-and-cheese omelet. I’m not that hungry so I just order some waffles, sausage and juice. Balducci isn’t saying much. I’m not sure if he feels the need to explain the situation or if he’s just going to tear me a new asshole. The expression on his face isn’t giving anything away. I wish he would talk.

Here we are, just two friends enjoying their meals. Balducci must be pushing 55, but he looks good. His hair is thin on top. In
one sense that makes him look better, almost approachable. But that’s consistent with him. He seems to walk the line real well. He has a tough but smooth style. It’s like, who would screw with him? Then again, nobody has the desire to screw with him.

Balducci finally breaks the silence. “Anyone fuckin’ else, I mean anyone else and it’s Sayonara Sammy. I got no choice. I got people to answer to also.” It’s funny, Jimmy is usually a lot smoother than this. I seem to be bringing out a side of him I’ve never seen. It’s probably a side he keeps at bay, especially in front of Remington Academy people. Balducci continues. “You really helped me with my son when he was at school. He was getting eaten alive there before you started helping him out. Go figure. It’s embarrassing having a kid at a fag school, let alone being pushed around. Imagine what would happen to him if he was doing work around a place like this. Forget it. He’s not made like you or me, and I can’t make him be that way. Either you got it inside or you don’t. I got him hooked up in a Wall Street firm. He’s got an internship, doing high-yield bonds. I got a few connections with some companies, so it’s going to work out nicely. Now Kevin, about you...you ready to do some real work?”

I
don’t know how to respond. The question was kind a vague. The last thing I want to do is give the wrong answer.

“Look Kevin,
I
was going to talk with you when you got done with school. You know, let you wallow in the real world a little bit and then bring you in with our group. I guess your stunt today kinda accelerated the process a bit. It’s not like we can pretend nothing went on here. I always liked you, and you handle yourself real well. Don’t get me wrong, you got a lot to learn and you got a knack for getting fucked up. But on the other hand, man, you got so much potential.”

“Jimmy, what can I do for you?”

“Well, there’s some serious money out there, and I’ve found plenty of ways of getting it. The better people I have, the more I can get. It’s that simple. You got the balls and the desire. I think you got the smarts, but you need some seasoning. It’s like you’re smart and you’re a moron at the same time. You followed the merchandise; you figured something out, good for you. But you followed the merchandise, you fucking
moron!”

I look at Jimmy and nod.

“Kevin, what do you think you saw here tonight?”

“I don’t know. I saw where all the boxes that were being separated got transferred to, that’s it. I thought
I
was helping out. You know, finding out where the stuff was going. I thought you and Sev would be psyched.”

“What you saw is a beautiful thing, an original. I own that store you were stalking, that meat market. It’s just a typical store where moms get the shit to make meatloaf. There’s nothing glamorous, nothing sexy. I do have one edge. I get my stuff at a really good price. Which is zero.” Jimmy gets so excited that some omelet falls from his mouth. “It’s hard for me to imagine how anybody can pay for shit when they can get it for free. But some poor slob a couple of blocks away is waking up at sunrise and selling a glob of chopped meat for six bucks that he paid five bucks for. Throw in rent and electricity and that dumb asshole can’t even afford to eat at his own store.”

“Jimmy, not to be a wiseass, but haven’t people been selling hot stuff since stuff was invented?”

Jimmy looks a little annoyed. “That’s the beauty; this ain’t hot. I pay for it. I just pay zero for it. If you get something hot, it’s stolen. Then you got to sell it fast and cheap. Not me. I take my time and sell it full retail. I love the markup,” he says.

I’m thinking that this guy is telling me too much information, and I don’t think that’s an accident. But it’s not really a secret anymore either. The fact that an hour ago his guys were sending me to hotdog heaven kinda leads one to the conclusion that something’s not kosher in Kosher World. That being said, I think either I’m in or I’m out, and out probably means body parts filling Lily’s locker.

“Jimmy, I’m a big fan of markups, too.” Jimmy smirks and takes a sip of his coffee. “Doesn’t Kosher World mind selling shit for zero?” I ask.

“Kosher World has to live with a deal cut a long time ago. They were getting low on cash and taking it in the ass from the union. They were pretty close to shutting down. They came to us looking for help. Funny thing is, we were causing the union problems. Anyway, not only were we able to get them a favorable loan, but we put the union problem on the shelf. They were a lot smaller back then. Holy shit, the company got big. I was able to buy in as a partner when we loaned them the money. Guess how much it cost me to buy in?”

“Probably the same as you’re paying for the merchandise,” I answer.

“Now you’re getting the hang of what a good deal is. There’s a lot of money and clout backing us.”

“Yeah, but who is the ‘us’?” I ask.

“Don’t worry about that now. As far as you’re concerned, it stops with me. Just know that we got control of every union on Industrial Road and a ton of others. You’d be surprised by how well we stay under the radar. We got control of the books and that’s why, with some creativity, we pay zero. We’re not pigs. We take our pound of flesh and let the feds go after Madoff and Enron and we stay low. There’s a trail that says otherwise, but at the end of the day, we buy for free. This meat store isn’t the only retail store we got. Shit, we’re in the process of building our own mall and filling it with all our retail operations. We figure consolidation will help with some of the expenses. One must be prudent. We still need to show positive growth, and as they say in the business world, if you’re not going forward you’re going backwards.”

Is this the ticket I was looking for? Jimmy has managed a good life, and he’s right in the heart of the whole Remington Academy scene, even though his family didn’t come over on the Mayflower. This whole business is dirty, no doubt about that. But do I have a choice? Balducci’s giving me a chance to save my ass; that’s what this is about. That’s what he’s waiting for. “Jimmy, what can I do for you? How do I get in?”

Jimmy pauses, drinks some juice and acts like I just came up with a unique idea. “We’ll get you involved slowly. I might know you, but some of the others aren’t going to trust you. Believe me, if you’re not on board, we’ll find out. Plenty of people are cooperating and this whole thing is insulated air
t
ight. Kinda like breathing through eight layers of cellophane.” Balducci lets out a big belly laugh and I politely smile and nod. “The truth is there are people involved you couldn’t imagine. Anyone finds out anything that I told you and it would be out of my hands. Understand?” I nod. “If the word starts getting out, we will find out. You can’t dent this machine.”