“Hey,” I said to Frank, “if you don’t tell your kid to shut up—”
“She was flirting with him all the time,” Gary said to Frank. “If you didn’t know about it you were blind, because everybody knew about it.”
“Look,” I said. “If you don’t just shut the hell—”
Gary sucker-punched me below my left eye and I stumbled backwards into the liquor bottles. Glass crashed onto the floor. Frank and Gil were screaming and Queen was singing “We Are The Champions.” I was okay, though. I didn’t fall down and I wasn’t dazed. My eye hurt and I knew it was going to swell up if I didn’t put ice on it. But the ice would have to wait.
“That was for Debbie,” Gary said, “and for my father.”
Frank was yelling at us and Gil was trying to hold Gary back. Then Gary got loose. He took another swing at me, but this time I was ready. I stepped back and the punch missed wildly. I saw my opening. I pushed him off me then I hit him with an uppercut to the jaw. His head snapped back first, then his whole body went. As he was falling backwards, I caught him again—right in the mouth. It was probably the hardest I’d ever hit anybody. I got all my strength behind it and he didn’t have a chance to duck. He fell straight back on his ass like somebody pulled a rug out from under him.
“That’s all,” Frank said. He was grabbing me from behind. “Get the hell out of here—right now!”
Gary was squirming around on the ground, trying to get up. Blood was dripping from his mouth. Then he spit a few teeth onto the floor.
“Look what you did,” he mumbled. “Look what you did.” He was crying.
“Gil, pick up the teeth and put them on ice,” Frank said. “Maybe a dentist can reattach them.”
Gil took a glass and started to put the bloody teeth into it.
Frank was looking at me.
“I had to do it,” I said. “You saw him take that cheap shot at me.”
“I want you out of here! Now!”
“Frank, come on, I—”
“Out!”
Gil helped Gary up. Gary looked like he was about to pass out.
“Take him to the bathroom in the back and clean him up,” Frank said. “Then we’ll take him to a dentist.”
Frank took the glass with the teeth and put ice in it. After Gary and Gil passed by I started to leave. Then I turned back toward Frank.
“Before I go I just want you to know I’m not lying,” I said. “I don’t know who robbed the safe or who killed your wife, but it sure as hell wasn’t me. You know that.”
Frank didn’t say anything.
I waited a few seconds then said, “And don’t worry about those choppers. An old buddy of mine got his teeth busted once. The dentist put on some of those caps and the guy came back looking like a movie star.”
“You better just go home, Tommy.”
“All right,” I said. “Whatever you say. I mean you’re the boss, right?”
I went to the back to get my leather coat. When I came back, Frank was sitting on a bar stool with his head in his hands. I couldn’t tell if he was crying, but he was moving his head like he was. I really felt sorry for him.
“I still want to manage this bar some day,” I said. “I know I can do a great job for you and if you want me to do it I’ll do it. But if you don’t want me back here, that’s fine with me too. I just want you to know, you’re still like a father to me.”
I started to leave.
“Tommy.”
I turned around. Suddenly, Frank looked ten years older.
“See you tomorrow,” he said.
I smiled, then I flipped up my coat collar and I left the bar.
At seven A.M. I was standing in front of the mirror on my closet door. I was wearing my white suit with my black shirt, shiny black shoes, a black tie, and my lucky gold barbell chain. My hair was slicked back and my beard was trimmed. I would’ve looked perfect if it weren’t for my black eye. I hadn’t put ice on it and it had swelled up overnight.
The gates to the racetrack didn’t open until eleven o’clock, but I wanted to leave early. Sunshine Brandy was running in the second race and I was afraid that if something happened, like my car broke down, I’d miss it. But leaving six hours before the race went off I’d definitely get there with time to spare.
On my way out, I checked the kitchen counter. Last night, when I came home from the bar, I’d noticed more cheese was gone and there were some more droppings. Now there were only two chunks of cheese left and the whole counter was covered with mouse shit. I took the rest of the cheese out of the fridge, spread it around the counter for the mice to feast on, and then I got the show on the road.
My car started right away and it made it on to the FDR Drive without stalling. One of the first things I was going to do when I got rich was buy a new car—probably a bright red Ferrari. Or maybe I’d have a few cars, just to mix things up.
There was no traffic so I made it to the track in about an hour. I thought about going to a diner to kill time and grab something to eat, but I didn’t have an appetite. I was too excited to eat and, besides, I remembered how I’d promised myself that my diner days were over. I’d only go to expensive restaurants to eat from now on, but I didn’t figure there were too many nice restaurants in Ozone Park, Queens, near the racetrack—especially not ones that were open at eight in the morning.
You might think that time would go by slowly, sitting in a parked car with nothing to do, but the next time I checked my watch it was eleven o’clock.
I pulled into the parking lot, paying the extra buck for preferred parking, and then I sat there for a minute, letting it all soak in. I realized how much my life had improved in the past two weeks. That day at the jai-alai fronton I was a struggling actor with no prospects, but now everything was working out. No doubt about it—Pete Logan getting into my car was probably the best thing that had ever happened to me.
Walking slowly so I wouldn’t sweat up my suit, I headed toward the entrance to the clubhouse. The old guy at the admission window didn’t even look at me as he took my three bucks. When I was a famous horse owner I knew things would be a lot different. I’d probably have a pass, go through a special entrance, and the guy at the door would say “Good morning, Mr. Russo,” and if he was lucky I’d look at him or say good morning back.
Going into the track, I felt like I was stepping into my new life. Outside was the old Tommy Russo, and I wasn’t sad to see him go.
I went to the bathroom to piss and to make sure I still looked great. A few hairs had come loose, but I slicked them back into place with some water and my little black comb, and then I went back into the clubhouse. I decided to go out to the stands and take a look at the owners’ boxes—see where I’d be sitting someday. But on my way out a tall, skinny black usher, said, “You got a pass?”
“No. I mean not yet,” I said.
“Then you can’t go out there.”
“It’s all right. I just wanted to look.”
“Sorry. You can’t go out there if you don’t got a pass.”
“But I just wanted to take a look, that’s all.”
I started to walk by him. He stood in my way.
“Those are the owners’ boxes,” he said. “They’re only for authorized personnel.”
“I’m gonna be authorized personnel. I’m claiming a horse today.”
“Sorry,” he said, “if you’re not authorized personnel you can’t go out there.”
“I just wanna go take a look,” I said. “What’s the big deal?”
I walked past him and he grabbed the back of my shoulder.
“Hey,” I said. “What’s your problem?”
Or maybe I yelled it because a security guard came running over.
