'Sure, now and then.'
'Just be careful not to take it too far. You don't want to wind up looking like one of those freaks. I can't understand how anyone finds that attractive.'
'Now they got broads doing it too,' Michael chimed in. 'Have you seen this? Freakin' disgusting. There was a bunch of them on TV just the other night. I swear to God some of them had dicks. They looked like guys in eye makeup and bikinis, for Christ's sake.'
Fratenzza motioned to the man stirring the tomato sauce in the kitchen. 'Now there's a perfect example of a guy who took the whole workout thing too far. He never knows when to take a day off from the gym, this one.'
'A regular Mr. Universe,' Michael chuckled.
Vic DeNicco wiped sweat from his brow with a paper napkin and smiled. 'Sure, sure. Pick on the fat man.'
'How you been, Vic?' Vincent asked.
'Hungry.'
'You're amazing. You never seem to gain a pound. You been right at that four, five hundred mark since I was a kid.'
'Hey, blow me.'
'Like I got all day to look for that little thing.'
'Kiss my ass then.'
'Spit and gimme a clue.'
'Lick my brown eye, homo.'
Vincent turned to the others at the table. 'I'd have to roll him in flour and look for the fucking wet spot.'
Everyone laughed, including Vic, who pointed a stubby finger at Vincent and waddled closer to the table. 'I ain't seen this little prick in what – four or five months – and already he's breaking my balls?'
Michael looked at Fratenzza. 'You shouldn't let him talk to you like that, Gino.' Again, the room filled with laughter. Vic, laughing harder and louder than anyone, headed back to the kitchen.
Once they had all settled down Fratenzza leaned back a bit in his chair and crossed his legs. 'It's good to see young people laughing and having a good time,' he said smoothly. 'I enjoy being around people who don't take everything so seriously. These days everyone's too easily offended. We've lost the ability to laugh at ourselves.'
A sudden vision of this placid man pinning a woman to the ground and severing her ear with a knife flooded Frank's mind. He ignored it.
'You're absolutely right,' Michael said. 'That's why having somebody like Vic to laugh at is so important.'
Fratenzza sipped espresso from a small cup while the others chuckled. When they had finished he'd dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin and looked directly at Frank. 'Vic's been with me for a lot of years, even longer than Michael. He's loyal – do anything in the world for me – and never has a gripe. In twenty-some years as friends I don't ever remember hearing him complain. Making fun of him has become something of a tradition around here, and as with everything else, he takes it all in stride. But let me tell you something: Men like Vic are hard to find.'
Frank nodded, unsure of what to say.
'He's a good egg,' Michael agreed.
'Tell me about yourself, Frank,' Fratenzza said.
'What would you like to know?'
His face hinted at a smile. 'Good answer.'
'I'm originally from the neighborhood. I've known Vincent and Michael since junior high school.'
'Is your father alive?'
'Yes.'
'What's his name?'
'Joseph.'
Fratenzza thought for a moment. 'Joseph Ponte doesn't ring a bell. Do I know him, Frank?'
'I don't believe so.'
Frank suspected Fratenzza already knew the answers to the questions he was asking, and was putting him through the process for reasons that had little to do with ascertaining accurate responses to such mundane inquiries.
'What does your father do for work?'
'He's a teacher at Saint Mary's in Fall River. He and my mother moved out of the neighborhood a few years back.'
'Are you married?'
'Yes.'
'Children?'
'Not yet.'
Fratenzza nodded, deeming the reply acceptable. 'I always like to see young men attempting a better life. Too many youngsters are lazy today. We've got an entire generation of people convinced the world owes them a living. Between MTV, the ridiculous clothes kids wear today and that horrible rap music they listen to – which isn't even music to begin with – their brains are rotting. It's a shame.'
'It's the niggers.' Michael sighed. 'They're the problem. You got white kids running around trying to be black. I mean, Christ, you can't turn on the TV or the radio without having nigger after nigger jammed down your throat, you know? It's fucking ridiculous. Seen an NBA game lately? Good luck finding even one white guy on the court. Ten percent of the goddamn country and we let them run the place.'
'I have a lot of respect for the colored,' Fratenzza said evenly. 'You've got girls who already have two or three kids by the time they're fourteen, fifteen years old. They sit home and watch TV while the government pays for everything. You think that's stupid? You got kids who don't even graduate high school walking down to the corner welfare office for checks every month – teenagers who've already figured out how to milk the system – they never work a day in their lives. That doesn't sound too stupid to me. The stupid one's the kid who goes to some sucker job for minimum wage when he can get it for free. No, I respect the colored. I don't want them living next door to me, don't misunderstand, I'm only saying they're not as stupid as people make them out to be, and at the rate they're having kids it won't be long before they're the majority. Then you better pray they never get organized.'
'They're too busy shooting each other and selling drugs in their own communities to be a threat to anyone else,' Michael scoffed.
'Michael, you're terribly racist.'
'Fuck them.'
Frank tried to mask his discomfort. Unfortunately racism was always a potential part of any neighborhood, but he had not been raised that way and didn't share the bigoted views being tossed about so effortlessly. In normal company, had anyone said anything like that he would have spoken up immediately and vehemently. But this time he sat silently and let their hatred spew freely like the palpable thing it was.
Fratenzza laughed lightly; turned to Vincent and Frank. 'Let me tell you something. You can spend your lives working and sweating so somebody else can get rich, or you can put the same effort and dedication into making yourselves successful. I've never understood why anybody would want someone else to reap the rewards of their labor – it makes no sense to me.'
'That's exactly why we want to make this move,' Vincent said quickly. 'It's an opportunity to get inside a business that's nearly impossible for outsiders to break into. With the right financial backing I really believe Frank and I can make a go of this.'
'Why wrestling?' Fratenzza asked.
'There's a lot of money to be made,' Frank explained, gaining confidence in his ability to contribute. 'With the right people involved.'
Vincent let his forearms rest on the table between them. 'Right now everything is run by the old guard. I think we can bring a fresh perspective to the business.'
'The only reason I ask is because several good businesses exist for two enterprising young men like
