Odd Jobs (24 page)

I asked, “Who the fuck is Hilda Goldberg?”

Before Rabbi Nasal could finish, Petro said, “C’mon, let’s go.”

Petro situated himself a few feet from the black hearse that was waiting for the coffin at the bottom of the steps. While waiting, Petro explained that Hilda Goldberg not only made the greatest kugel in the world, but never missed a Petro tax payment. In his infinite wisdom Petro explained, “You haven’t lived until you ate good kugel and good pussy.”

“Petro, aren’t we here to see Al Lassiter’s funeral?”

Petro explained, “The woman in that box wasn’t 5-feet tall and she weighed 90 pounds tops, but she was one tough broad. She had a restaurant for 50 years. Shit, she ran it for 20 years on her own after her husband bought the farm. Tiny little woman like that, and she never missed a fucking tax payment to me. Not one. And the kugel she made was fucking unreal. But that fat-fuck Lassiter, he couldn’t make his payments, could he? Lassiter should’ve learned from a great gal like old Hilda. Then maybe, someday everyone would’ve called him Old Man Lassiter.”

The congregation fell into a respectful formation to allow the pallbearers to bring the casket to the hearse. While the men holding the casket looked healthy enough, there were problems. The eight men wobbled on the ice, nearly tipping the casket, and Petro kept laughing. Another man from the congregation jumped in to help this tricky procession down the steps. The additional pallbearer made Petro laugh even harder. Petro turned to his favorite goon, Rich Bennett, and almost choking with laughter said, “Geeee, you see that, you see that? They had to add another guy. Geeeeee.”

Bennett was laughing. “Yeah, Petro, they still might not make it.”

Petro, not even trying to suppress his laugh said, “Yeah, kugel, you should put that on your list to do before you die. Eat some kugel.”

“But what about Lassiter? Is his funeral next?”

The coffin swayed all the way from the left and then nearly as dramatically to the right but there were still many difficult steps before this group of pallbearers could orchestrate a smooth landing. Petro in between laughing said, “C’mon, Rich, tell me the truth, geeeee. You put some bricks in there for effect? These guys carrying the coffin can’t be that lame. C’mon, tell me the truth, Rich.”

Rich answered, “I swear on my mother, no bricks Petro. No fucking bricks, just Fat Al Lassiter.”

Petro wiped tears from his eyes as the struggle down the stairs was winding down, “Oh, this is too good.” Petro saw my confusion over Rich Bennett’s comment and in between gasps for air said, “Double-decker coffin. Inside Hilda’s coffin, under all the nice silk and bedding, we added some extra cushion for her. We put that fat-fuck Al Lassiter underneath her.”

In amazement I looked at the group wobbling and struggling and asked, “Right now? He’s in there right now?”

“Geeeeeeee, it’s un-fucking real. These assholes think they are carrying a 90-pound old lady, but they got her 90 pounds plus Fat Al’s pounds. All 280 fucking pounds of him.”

All I could muster was, “Holy shit.”

Petro stopped laughing enough to compose himself. He looked at me and said, “Fucking Al, would eat all his fucking profit and try to leave me holding my cock. Like I’m not entitled to my tax payment or something. Now he can spend the rest of eternity learning from that great gal Hilda Goldberg, who never missed a payment.

He explained with his ingenious system there’s no need to chop people up or drop someone in a lake wrapped in chains. “Hell, we used to boil people to make them unidentifiable. It was all so messy. With this system, who is ever going to find guys like Fat Al? The best part is, we get to watch people bust
ing
their nut carrying the load for us. We don’t even have to dig the fucking ditch.” Petro sees my amazement and asked, “Whaddaya think of my system?”

I tried to stay calm. Petro was looking for some reac
tion
and I needed to be in his good graces, so I said, “I can’t help thinking that when rigor mortis sets in and everything gets stiff, that Fat Al Lassiter could be sporting wood and giving it to Hilda in the pail for eternity.”

Petro drew that far-fetched mental image and broke out laughing again. He slapped me on my shoulder and screamed,

“Yeah, getting it in the ass for eternity from Fat Al Lassiter; Ha!” Then he asked, “So, am I brilliant or what?”

I’m thinking now, I’d be pretty brilliant if I can explain this to Rocky. Let her digest my business first, and then
I’ll
get into my relationships.

I put my arm around Rocky and kiss her neck. Her skin is cold from the frosty weather but still so soft, the contrast from my warm kiss and her cold neck adds to the sensuality. Rocky closes her eyes and moves her head back, offering more of her neck. “See what I mean?” she says. “Why would I run away from this?”

I look at her seriously so she knows I mean business. “This whole college is full of winners. There are guys lining up power jobs, guys really going places. All of those guys would step over and crush each other to be here with you. Why are you wasting your time with me? Why aren’t you running for those hills?”

“It’s kind of funny to me. I see you managing all these different things and you have a confidence and certainty like no one that I ever met, including those so-called winners you talk about. But then you say things to me like, why aren’t I running away?”

“Maybe because the stuff I do can land people in jail and also promote physical harm,” I remind her.

“Yeah, I’m not naïve about those risks. But even if those risks didn’t exist, for some reason, you don’t think you deserve to be happy. For some reason, you don’t think you deserve to get the girl. I’ve been giving this whole thing a lot of thought lately. It’s hard to get you out of my mind. I’ll admit, now that I’m involved with you, I wish you weren’t part of these businesses, but I knew going in that you were doing this. The drugs and bookie business don’t scare me. My feelings for you...that’s what’s scary.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m trying to figure out. Look, I went out with a lot of girls. Of course, they weren’t like you, Rocky.” I also can’t help myself from thinking that they weren’t C.W. Wellington, either. “And by the way,” I continue, “you weren’t doing too bad yourself in the dating department.”

“Yes, but I never dated anyone for more than two weeks,” she explains.

What’s that even supposed to mean? Does she have some sort of time limit? Why only two weeks? What’s up with that? “What? Why?”

“That’s what I’ve been giving so much thought to,” Rocky says, her cold breath rising about her head like a halo. “You talk about all these bankers and lawyers like they are the greatest catch. I was looking for the opposite, for the anti-catch. I was looking for the escape hatch.”

“Obviously, you can explain that,” I say with an uncomfortable smile.

“As half-baked as this may sound, a lot of girls around here judge a successful college experience by having a cool
boyfriend. I didn’t make that concept up; this philosophy exists and, right or wrong, I felt the peer pressure to a degree.” I nod, but I don’t really know what I’m nodding to. Rocky continues. “I know I should be a big girl and say, if I’m ready for a boyfriend great, if I’m not ready, then that’s my own business. But in reality, I started dating guys I thought my friends would like.

“The one thing I made sure of,” she goes on to say, “was all these guys had some faults I could make clear to my friends, so that I could dust them when the time came. I honestly don’t think I was doing this on purpose, but in any case I’m not particularly proud of this behavior. It wasn’t like it was two weeks every time, but when a certain expectation to get physically or emotionally closer came due, I would push the eject button, you know, open the escape hatch. All these guys had an escape hatch. I didn’t realize I was doing this, but I know it now. The truth is I just couldn’t get comfortable with guys. It comes pretty easy to a lot of people; it used to come easy to me. I used to be so proud of how close I was with my father. Who in this world are you supposed to be closer with?”

Rocky is beginning to choke on her words. I have my arm around her, with the intention of making her feel better but hell, I might be pushing her away further. “Rocky, what you went through was crazy. We don’t have to talk about this any more.”

“Yes,” she says, “yes, we do. I want to show you everything. I want you to know what you’re getting into also. Please, ask me stuff.”

I hesitate and say, “So you wouldn’t go out with me originally because I didn’t fit in with your friends’ profile of the right guy?”

“Just the opposite. My friends think you’re way cute.” She sees me blush a little. “Look, Kevin, you keep thinking when you were asking me out, I was saying no because of what you didn’t have. It was just the reverse. I knew you were different; I always thought there was something special about you and it took me by surprise. It was hard for me to put my finger on it, but I felt something was there. Then, the more time I spent with you, the more it started getting clearer.

“Because of the illegal stuff, it would have been real easy for me to dust you in a couple of weeks. But while you were trying to be honest with me and scare me off, seeing your motivation made me want to stay. The thing I admire about you the most? You’re not willing to be a victim. I am so damn frustrated being a victim! I’ve been totally and completely changed because of what happened to me. I don’t act like I should and I don’t feel like I should. I feel helpless and powerless. But not you. You’re doing something about it. I don’t care how dangerous your plan is. I admire you so much for not letting yourself be a victim.”

“Rocky,” I say at last, “not a lot of people can imagine how I feel about the situation I’m in, but you understand. I know you feel alone with your issues, but I don’t want you to be alone. Let’s just keep talking. I’ll help you any way I can. There’s no hurry for anything, and I’m glad I made it past the two-week mark with you.” I laugh as I wipe away two tears that have trickled down her face. “I’m looking forward to a bunch of two weeks. Believe me, I didn’t plan these strong feelings for you, either, but I’m glad to have them. Nice surprises don’t happen often, but when they do, you really got to appreciate them. And, baby, I really appreciate every minute with you.”

We both pause and start to embrace but an extremely old man with an empty fold-up grocery cart sits down next to us and smiles. He’s bundled in an old Army jacket and brown scarf; patches of grey hair sprout from the sides of his AFL-CIO union cap. The old man says, “I think I missed the bus. Won’t be another for 40 minutes.”

I feel sorry for the old gent. “Listen,” I reply, “I was going to leave my car and take the bus today, but it looks like I’m driving now. Where are you headed?”

“Down by Rector Street Market,” he answers.

“Yeah, that’s exactly where we’re going. C’mon, we’ll give you a lift.”

“Oh, great, it’s cold here.” The old man perks up.

Rocky smiles at the old guy and then grins at me. We weren’t going anywhere near Rector Street Market. Sometimes you need to make a few detours. I call Loot and let him know I won’t be back today.

Funny, but the best moment I have had to date with Rocky is segued into a cramped ride in the Saab with a faded old man. Rocky is generous enough to yield the front seat to our new friend, so we are separated. But it ain’t how it ended.

CHAPTER 18

After we dropped off the old guy, Rocky herself suggested we go to my apartment. How about that? And here she is in my arms, in my room, in my place at The Lakes. She is trying to be the same confident and playful girl, but she’s nervous. I sense the normal poise being overcome by a strange fear; I can hear a difference in her voice. I don’t want her to do something she doesn’t want to do. “Baby, there’s no hurry here, I know this is diff.... ” But before I finish, Rocky pulls me in for a long, hard kiss.

She walks over to the light and dims it. We are standing and embracing each other and I want to feel every part of her. I run my hands through her thick, wavy auburn hair and I kiss her neck, inhaling and bringing in her subtle fragrance. My hands move around her shoulders and then lower. Her body is firm and athletic from dancing but her skin is so soft and smooth.