Park Lane South, Queens

He slammed the door shut and walked up the pink marble stairs. Self-consciously he pushed his hair back. He hated joints like this. Women all tensed up and on the make. Men, if you could call them men, with hairdos and nipped-in waists and shellacked eyelashes. A fellow in a chartreuse shirt down to his knees eyeballed him up and down. He could have slapped him. Then, through a forest of good-luck-bannered potted plants he saw the back of her head at the bar. She was tapping her fingers impatiently along an empty bottle of Perrier. At least she wasn’t chatting away happily with some creep. (In reality, she was waiting for a moment alone with Freddy. She was going to tell him exactly what she thought of his slimy interlude with Carmela.) The kid, beaming, was being detained by a silver-eye-shadowed flight attendant type who was cooing and oohing all over him. She bent over, breasts exposed, and gave him the celery stick from her bloody mary. Michaelaen clung shyly to his father’s hand. Shit. Johnny didn’t want to talk to him. He turned on his heel before Claire could see him and went back outside. What if Freddy was going to drive them home and they went out the back way through the parking lot? He went back in. A lawyer type in a dinner jacket approached Claire and he saw the two of them banter back and forth and then laugh out loud. He watched Claire blow an easy stream of smoke in the man’s face and deliberately turn her back on him. And that takes care of that, thought Johnny with relief.

Derickson, from the 102 and looking every bit of it, was mopping long-stem glasses behind the bar. The other bartender was either off or on a break. Johnny knew he wouldn’t risk blowing Derickson’s cover. Derickson was too smart to do anything more than look right through him, but at the same time he didn’t feel like letting the whole station house know that his interest in Claire was anything more than professional. Bunch of old fishwives. He went back outside. He noticed that his palms were wet. What am I, delirious? he asked himself. He walked across the boulevard to the big stone statue, a naked statue of a man the old-timers called the Fireman. There he was, this huge muscular Greek, balls ass in the middle of traffic. There was a wooden bench there, mercifully free of bums, and he sat down on it, watching the door all the while. Even if they went out the back way he could still see them from here. And then he saw the Mayor. He must have walked right by him several times, for there he was, tied with his clothesline to the parking meter in front of Freddy’s place. Johnny flew across the street. “Hi ya, Mayor,” he greeted him affectionately. “You remember me, don’t you?”

The Mayor watched him blandly. He’d been following Johnny’s indecisive helter-skelter all along. Now there was no doubt in his mind that Johnny was smitten with Claire. Although he’d guessed that from the start, way back in the confusion over the kosher chicken. If there was anyone who had a nose for that sort of thing it was himself. Now what was this? Johnny was untying the clothesline and escorting him across the boulevard. This was a rare opportunity indeed. What exotic strains of frowziness might he encounter here? Truly he did love Natasha, only once you were as old as, let’s do face it, he now was, each opportunity that presented itself, handed to you, as it were, was well worth taking. One might never have the chance again. Alone, he would never even consider the risk of crossing a boulevard. Why he’d never been across a boulevard. And now he was. He was just becoming involved in what could very well be the musk of a dane when he felt his clothesline stiffen. He looked about. Across Queens Boulevard he could see Freddy coming down the steps with Claire and Michaelaen. Claire was being very cool toward Freddy. You could see that even from a distance. Michaelaen wasn’t keen on leaving at all. He loved that place. As many french fries as he could lay his hands on. All of a sudden Claire threw her arms up into the air. Back and forth she raced. Then around in a circle. Michaelaen, always distinguished, did not panic. He was quite used to the disappearance of the Mayor. He’d grown up within the routine of it. However, he did put his thumb in his mouth and kept it there. Freddy ran inside and came back out. Claire was looking underneath the parked cars. The Mayor thought all right, a game’s a game, but this one has gone far enough now. He looked up at Johnny, who was looking idiotically spellbound and crackling his knuckles.

Claire was thinking of the stricken pairs of eyes she would face back at home if she didn’t find the Mayor. Frantically, she craned her neck in all directions. Someone could have hit him and he might be lying out there broken and bleeding and with no one to care for him. And all those cars just nonchalantly speeding by. She broke out in a fervent sweat. Freddy put an arm of solace around her shoulder and she flung herself free of him. “Look!” hollered Michaelaen. He pointed towards the newsstand on the corner. There was a pedestrian crossway there and an entrance to the subway. Out from the exit, Tut from his tomb, emerged the Mayor, waddling, pink tongue dangling, and Johnny Benedetto rushing accommodatingly behind.

“Your honor!” Claire fell to the ground.

Johnny squatted beside her. “I just happened to be coming up from the subway,” he said out of the corner of his mouth, “and who do I see but the dog here.” It wouldn’t hurt for her to think destiny had played a hand. She’d like that sort of thing. And so she did. Her eyes, when she looked up at him, were pools of sparkling wonder. This grateful ardor, if it hadn’t come from such a cheap trick, would have caused him no small joy. Uncomfortably, he stood back up. Michaelaen claimed his rightful end of the leash and they walked in a tight band back to the restaurant.

“This is wonderful,” said Freddy. “If you hadn’t come out from the subway at that exact moment.…”

Claire shuddered at the torrent of possibilities. Michaelaen watched Johnny with careful admiration. He didn’t know quite what to make of Johnny. Both Claire and Freddy spoke derisively about him but he noticed they both buckled to attention the moment he was around.

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