“Sure.”
“Nobody ever calls me when things are good,” Berger says.
Chapter 29
There’s heat and there’s New York City heat.
Sweltering, simmering, steaming, filthy, fetid heat baking off the concrete and the asphalt, turning the city into an open-air sauna.
Hot time, summer in the city.
Malone woke up sweaty and was sweaty again thirty seconds after he stepped out of the shower.
It’s better down here in Staten Island as he sits in Russo’s backyard and sips from a bottle of Coors. His denim shirt is loose over his jeans and he wears a pair of black Nikes.
Wearing a ridiculous Hawaiian shirt, Bermuda shorts, and sandals over white socks, Russo flips the burgers on the grill. “Fourth of July. I love this country.”
Monty’s wearing a white guayabera shirt, khaki slacks and a blue trilby. Puffs on a big Montecristo.
The Russos’ Fourth of July cookout, always held the weekend shift they have off nearest the Fourth.
A team tradition.
Attendance mandatory, a family day.
Wives, significant girlfriends—kids.
John is in the pool playing Marco Polo with Monty’s boys and the Russo brothers. Caitlin sits with Sophia getting her makeup done, a major case of hero worship. Yolanda, Donna and Sheila are at the patio table, sipping sangria, their heads together in girl talk.
The announcement of Monty’s impending retirement has been the talk of the barbecue. Yolanda is thrilled out of her mind to get her husband away from the risks of the Job and her kids away from the city. Seeing her happiness breaks Malone’s heart.
“See those little idiots in the pool?” Monty says. “They’re smart. College smart.”
“They’re black,” Russo says, “they’ll get a scholarship.”
“They have a scholarship,” Monty says. He chuckles. “The Pena Scholarship.”
He touches his beer bottle to Russo’s.
“The Pena Scholarship,” Russo says. “I like that.”
Malone feels his soul shrink inside him. Here at his best friend’s house, with the man’s family, making a tape that will take it all away from him.
But he does it anyway. Looking around to make sure none of the wives or kids are eavesdropping, he says, “We have to move on Castillo. If he gets busted before we get to him, he’s going to say there was fifty kilos of heroin missing from the Pena voucher.”
“You think they’d believe him?” Russo asks.
“You want to take the chance?” Malone asks. “Fifteen to thirty, federal time? We have to take him out.”
He looks pointedly at Russo, who takes a sausage off the grill and puts it on a plate. “In the words of the immortal Tony Soprano, ‘Some people gotta go.’”
Monty’s busy rolling his cigar to get an even flame. “I have no problem putting two in Castillo’s head.”
“You ever feel bad about it?” Malone asks.
“Pena?” Russo says. “I took that baby killer’s money and made something good out of it? My kids have a future? They’re not going to carry loans around on their backs their whole lives. They get out of college free and clear. Fuck Pena, I’m glad what we did.”
“Concur,” Monty says.
The boys come to the edge of the pool and yell for their dads to come in and play. “In a few minutes!”
“You always say that!”
“You don’t worry about their bone density in the water?” Russo asks.
“I worry about their brain density,” Monty says. “So much young pussy around these days and they give it away for an iTunes download. I’m retiring down in North Carolina. I don’t want any grandkids for a long time.”
“Carolina’s expensive,” Malone says. “I’m looking at, fuck, Rhode Island. Where does the money go? The Pena money, the lawyer money, the other rips. I mean we have to have made, I dunno, a couple of million each over the years?”
“The hell are you today, Merrill Lynch?” Russo asks.
Malone says, “We don’t know when we’re gonna get another real payday. All we might get is our salary, maybe a little overtime.”
“Monty,” Russo says, “Malone wants to sell you some municipal bonds.”
“We always knew it wouldn’t last forever,” Monty says. “Every good thing comes to an end.”
“Maybe it’s time I pull the pin, too,” Malone says. “I mean, why take the chance some junkie skel throws a lucky shot. Maybe it’s time to pick up my chips, step away from the table while I’m still a winner.”
Russo says, “Jesus, you guys going to leave me alone with Levin?”
Malone says, “The beer, I gotta piss.”
Donna collars him in the kitchen, puts her arm around his shoulders. She juts her chin at Sheila sitting outside and says, “This is nice, the two of you together, the family. Sheila told me she took a few days away to think—you getting back together again?”
“Looks like it, huh.”
“I’m proud of you, Denny,” she says. “Coming to your senses. Your life is here with them, with us.”
Malone goes into the bathroom, turns on the tap to hide the sound, and cries.
The fourth beer slides down smoother than the third, the fifth easier than the fourth.
“You want to slow down a little?” Sheila asks him.
“You wanna not tell me what to do?” Malone asks. He walks away from her, over to the pool, where the annual “kids versus dads” game of water polo is going on.
John is having a great time and yells, “Dad! Come in and play!”
“Not right now, Johnny.”
“Come on, Dad!”
“Get in here,” Russo says. “They’re kicking our butts.”
“I’m good,” Malone says.
Russo’s had a few beers himself. Starts to get a little hostile. “Get your ass in here, Malone.”
“No thanks.”
It gets quiet at the party. Everyone’s watching; the women pick up this is a little more tense than something about getting in the pool.
“Why not?” Monty asks. He’s managed to play the game without getting his cigar wet.
“Because I don’t feel like it,” Malone says.
Because I’m wearing a wire.
“You shy now?” Russo asks.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Malone says.
“Ain’t nothing we haven’t seen before,” Russo says. “Get in the goddamn pool.”
He and Malone are glaring at each other now.
“I didn’t bring a suit,” Malone says.
“To a pool party,” Monty says. “You didn’t bring a suit.”
Russo says, “I’ll lend you one. Donna, go get Denny a suit.”
But he don’t take his eyes off Malone.
“Jesus, Phil,” Donna says. “The man said he doesn’t—”
“I heard what the man said,” Russo says. “Did you hear what I said? Go in the goddamn house and get the man a goddamn bathing suit.”
Donna storms into the house.
“Is there a reason you don’t want to get undressed, Denny?” Monty asks.
“What’s it to you?”
“You’re coming in the pool,” Monty says.
“You gonna make me?”
“If that’s what it takes.”
Malone explodes. “Fuck you, Monty! Fuck you, Phil!”
Sheila says, “Jesus, Denny!”
“Fuck you, too!” Malone yells.
“Denny!”
“Fuck all this!” Malone yells. “I’m out of here.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Russo says.
Sheila grabs him by the arm. “You shouldn’t be driving.”