Odd Jobs (36 page)

Bino is screaming, “Shoot the prick! Don’t let him hurt Jimmy.”

Bombart shouts, “You got a gun, motherfucker. You shoot him. What if I miss and hit Jimmy?”

Balducci is turning purple and these assholes are involved in some Roe vs. Wade debate. Finally they realize they better not shoot, and they try to break us up, but I keep rolling Balducci. They start punching me but hit him a few times by mistake also. I swear I can kill him if they give me a few more minutes.

Bombart jumps on Balducci and me. It’s a smart move, and now I’m no longer a moving target. Bino whips at my head with his gun handle and the other goon works on my hands and loosens my grip on Balducci’s throat. I pop up and scream to Rocky, “Run, make a run for it!” The other three guys are attending to their boss.

Rocky is confused. She doesn’t know I made this distraction for her. She probably wants to help me, but all I want is for her to get the fuck out of here. I begin to run toward her. Balducci motions to the other guys to stop me. Bino figures it out first and screams, “Davenport, you have two seconds to freeze.” Which, of course, I’m not going to do.

Canisters of smoke roll into the Tongue Room and I hear footsteps running all about me. I turn to Rocky and holler again, “Run, baby, run.” Smoke is covering our feet and the fog is rising. I can still see the doorway of the Tongue Room. Before I can make my exit, I hear it first. Shit, it’s so loud echoing against all the stainless steel tables that occupy the Tongue Room. Crack-crack. The sound ringing and echoing causes almost as much pain as the impact of the bullet into my flesh.

I feel pain radiating up my left side. Damn; I’ve been hit. “Rocky, you have to run. I’ll catch up with you later. Please baby, run.”

“I can’t,” she pleads.

“You have to,” I insist. I nudge her toward the door.

The floor of the room is filling with smoke from the canisters; what must be Curtis’ Special Service guys start coming in. Bino waves his gun menacingly and Sev empties one right in the middle of his skull. Brain and blood spray all over Bino’s face. He drops hard to his knees and freezes there for a moment. Finally the crimson face tilts toward the floor and drops. His scrambled brains and bloody face disappear into the rising smoke, and I hear the loud thud of that pale fuck’s lifeless body hitting the floor. The world has just lost a wonderful human being.

I reach down and feel my side above my left hip. The pain is too much. I look at my hand; it’s covered with blood. My head hurts from the crack-crack still bouncing around in my skull.

I’m practically coughing my throat out from the smoke. The room is now filling with special service guys. I can hear the footsteps and I can see the figures in their gas masks and military equipment. I’m coughing too much to concentrate and my head is getting light. I need to get out of here.

Somehow I stagger out of Kosher World and out onto the street. I’m hoping I can catch my breath now that I’ve escaped the smoke. But it’s hard; my side hurts and I can’t lose the echoing in my head, crack-crack.

If I stay here, I could bleed to death. I need to get help. The streets are dark, much darker than usual. I’m disoriented, and I need to find a street that I know.

What if I can’t make it? Will I bleed to death? Where the hell is Rocky? Did Sev and Curtis take out the streetlights? Is that why it’s so fucking dark? I don’t hear any voices. Where the fuck am I? I turn around to see the factory, but I must have wandered further than I thought. Man, am I fucked up or what?

I see some lights. I should be able to reach them and get some help, but it’s a struggle for me to stay focused. If I black out I’m going to be in trouble. I want to stop and lie down for a while and get some strength back, but I know better. If I pass out over here, there’s a good shot it’ll be morning until someone notices me. That could be all she wrote. I’ll just stay tough and keep moving forward.

Did I pass out? I started this whole shit-show at 9 p.m. but it feels like it’s three in the morning. I’ve been on these streets before but they never seemed so dark and empty. I’ve got to keep focused on those colored lights in the distance. They get closer. I hear music. When I see the lights clearly, I recognize them. They are the neon signs for the various beers served at the Locomotive Breath.

The music is loud now, practically pulsating through the street. Over it I hear the sounds of wild cheering. I check my bloody side. I don’t want to cause any commotion coming in all messy, but I think I might need a doctor.

As I swing open the door, I see a crowd of people around a makeshift stage. Harv Hatch is here, with his scraggly beard and beer belly, one hand around Little Steven Van Zandt, and the other arm around his idol, Bruce Springsteen. The whole fuckin’ E Street Band is here, singing “Tenth Avenue Freezeout.”

I feel a tug at my shoulder as someone grabs me and turns me around. The yank causes my side to burn with pain. I close my eyes, grit my teeth and try to regain my composure. When I open my eyes, I see the unmistakable cornrows of Loot Hightower and Carey’s bright grin. Carey screams over the music, “Can you believe this?”

What the fuck is going on?” I demand.

Loot interjects, “What’s going on? Only the greatest party in history! We’re celebrating your victory.”

I grimace from the pain of the wound. “Huh? Someone explain what’s going on. Is that really Bruce Springsteen up there?”

Loot screams over the music, “Yeah, that’s Springsteen.”

“Whoa, in this dive? Guys, I got to find Rocky. You know where she is?”

“Yeah,” Carey says, “she’s here, and she’s been looking for you. Look, there she is.” He points to the bar. I think I catch a glimpse of her, but then she’s gone. The music’s getting louder and the drums are pounding like thunder. Pain darts through my whole body and ricochets around inside my skull. The drumbeats remind me of the gunshot, crack-crack. I show Carey my wound and he gives me something called a Euphoria Martini and explains it’s more than a drink. It’s bright blue in a triangular blue glass. When I down it, the pain instantly dissolves.

There are tons of people around now, laughing and having a great time. I feel frustrated because I can’t find her. “Let’s find Rocky and then find a doctor to look at my side.”

“Are you sure you want to go?” Loot asks seriously. “This is unreal and you’re doing okay now.”

“I guess I can stay,” I answer, “but let’s
find Rocky.”

“Sure, sure, let’s go, she’s probably in the back.”

As we start walking, I see plenty of people I don’t know but plenty that I do know. There are people here from Spring Valley Lakes, and damn if that guy over there wasn’t on my Little League team back in the day when everything was good in Manhasset. People are waving at me, shaking my hand and hugging me.

We enter the back room. It’s quieter here, but I wouldn’t call it quiet. I can still hear the drums pounding. As I walk deeper into the back room, I am trying to spot Rocky’s auburn hair amidst all the heads swaying to the music. I think I see her in the distance but I’m not sure; people are dancing around, blocking my line of sight. This back room is darker than the rest of the place, and it keeps getting darker as we walk on.

As we get close to the bar, I see two guys laughing and having a rowdy conversation. When they see me, they courteously move over in mid-story and yield some real estate so I can get up to the bar. I nod my thanks to one guy and immediately his face surprises me. He looks just like Hector Pinto. The problem is, Hector Pinto was skinned alive a few months ago. He notices my surprised look and says, “If I didn’t cut my finger off, way back when I was supposed to fight, you may never have been in an Industrial Road bout. Think about it. If it weren’t for me, you might never have taken a stand against Balducci. It’s clear, I was the beginning of the whole thing.”

I don’t know what to say to this Hector look-alike. He’s waiting for an answer and repeats, “It’s clear.”

I still don’t know how to respond. I look at Carey and Loot but they just shrug.

The large guy next to him says, “You?” He shakes his head, but his head seems unsteady. “Shit, I was the first one to stand up to Balducci, that’s clear. I got caught talking to the police, but I had the balls to try to do something. That’s where it started. That’s the only thing that’s clear!”

Suddenly I recognize the guy’s hairy fuckin’ ears. “Holy crap, Georgie, what are you doing here?”

“Drinking a shit-load of Euphoria Martinis, that’s clear!” Georgie and Hector high-five each other and start laughing. Loot and Carey both join in and soon everyone is laughing, except me.

Georgie turns to Loot and says, “What’s up with your buddy? Is he okay?”

Loot asks me what’s wrong. I look at Carey and Loot and I’m so shocked that I can hardly get the words out.
“Guys ... these two dudes ... died a while ago.”

Loot and Carey begin laughing, and the Georgie and Hector look-alikes join in. “Right!” Georgie shouts. “We’re dead! Oh yeah, that’s clear!”

Loot, Carey, Hector and Georgie are soon laughing out of control. What the fuck is so funny? What the shit is happening? Clear? This is anything but clear. All around us, people are laughing. I’d like to join in but my side is hurting again. My head is throbbing, and I can hear that crack-crack echoing in my skull. All the familiar faces are laughing, all laughing at me. Everyone except Rocky and my father. They are at the bar as well. Their faces are expressionless, their gaze fixed on my face. I look back and forth between them. I am locked into Rocky’s eyes. Then I am locked into my father’s eyes. I see tears streaming down Rocky’s face. Aw, Rocky, don’t cry....

I hear one word in the background: “Clear!” Again I hear it: “Clear.”

I recognize the smell of rubbing alcohol. I feel my eyes flutter open and close. There’s too much light and too much pain to keep them open for long. In between flutters I see someone holding white paddles. I see his eyes, but the surgical mask is covering the rest of his face. I hear him screaming to the others, “I got something. C’mon, people, get the 12-lead EKG. Give me some numbers.”

I can’t keep my eyes open.

CHAPTER 28

Sev and Curtis. I can’t keep my eyes open. Sev and Curtis. Again, I can’t keep my eyes open. I hear them talking. I hear the words but it’s too damn much work to open my eyes. The first words I can make out are, “It’ll be any minute now.”

I feel my eyelids flutter and I see the doctor. I see Sev and Curtis. The doctor asks, “Can you hear me?” I nod. “Can you talk?”

“Yeah.” My answer unintentionally comes out like a whisper.

“Kevin, I’m Doctor Reddy. You are in a hospital. You are recovering from a gunshot wound. Do you understand everything I am telling you?”

“Yes.” I try to say it louder than a whisper. A nurse offers me a straw so that I can sip some ice water. It stings going down my dry throat. After several minutes of staring at the ceiling, I notice the faces in the room. Sev and Curtis. I look at Sev and say, “Man, I can use an aspirin.”

“Take it easy for a few minutes. Then we’ll talk,” Sev answers.

As the haze lifts, the pain in my side rises. Sev tells me that I have been in the hospital for about two weeks.

“Get the fuck out of here!”

“You’ve been in bad shape, Kevin,” he says. “Shit, you were flat-lining, man.”

“For real?”

“Yeah, it was touch and go for a while. Once we had you back, the doctor thought you’d have the best shot to recover in a drug-induced coma. But I’m
telling you, we thought we lost you. For a while, you were on the other side.”

Curtis interrupts and says, “We got you up at a special hospital in West Point. Otherwise, I don’t think you would have made it. Shit, I still can’t believe you made it.”

Sev says, “They say your life passes before you when you die.” Then he asks, “What do you remember?”