Чарли Стелла - Johnny Porno

“I don’t have time for movies,” she said. “I’m going to the doctor’s at one, why I’m up so damn early.” She stopped to sip her coffee. “And I have a three o’clock appointment at the beautician. Maybe tomorrow if you’re free.”

“It’ll have to be early,” Nathan said. “I have rehearsal tomorrow afternoon.”

“Well, I can’t help that, can I?”

“No,” Nathan said. “I suppose not.”

Nancy got up from the table to rinse her cup out in the sink. She set it in the drain board afterward, then looked up at the clock on the wall above the kitchen doorway. “I have to shower and fix myself before I leave,” she said. “Please don’t play until I’m gone. In case the phone rings.”

“Right,” said Nathan obediently as his wife headed upstairs. He wondered where she really would spend the day and with whom. Their marriage had turned into a sham. He was sure she was seeing someone else and had been playing him for a fool since they were married.

Nancy had first introduced herself at her son’s school when Nathan and a few of his Philharmonic colleagues had played a benefit for the music department. She had been pretty and confident and he had been lonely. It was during the Philharmonic season they began dating. He’d been single until then and had saved enough to buy the house they now lived in.

After two-plus years of marriage Nathan was well aware that Nancy Kirsk-Albano had hooked a fish when he proposed to her almost three years ago. Except for his relationship with her son, it had been a mistake to have ever spoken to her.

Divorce was on his mind when the phone rang. He answered and the caller hung up.

John woke up and found he was staring at his alarm clock. He’d forgotten to set it before falling to sleep. It was nine-fifteen. He had a few minutes to spare and closed his eyes again. He’d been dreaming, but couldn’t recall what, except he was sure that a woman dressed in white was Melinda.

He took a shower and dressed and was about to head down to the local deli for an egg sandwich and coffee when he thought to call his ex-wife and confirm his son’s schedule for the rest of the week. Little Jack was attending summer camp Monday through Friday. Some days the kid was home earlier than others. John hoped to spend some time with his son tonight.

The other thing John wanted to do today was find a way around Nick Santorra at the Brooklyn bar. The guy had become unbearable; between his loud mouth, his threats and last night’s phone call, it was only a matter of time before the punk pushed the wrong button and John lost control. The repercussions from hitting Santorra wouldn’t make his life any easier. Either he found a way to avoid dealing with the loudmouth or he found another weekend job.

He plugged the phone back in and it rang before he picked up the receiver. It was a local builder he had worked construction for in the past. Two of his men had left the builder in the lurch for union work in the city. He offered John ten dollars an hour off the books for the rest of the week. John accepted, then wondered if maybe his luck was changing.

He needed to get to Bay Ridge as soon as possible and forgot about calling Nancy. He made it to the construction site, a row of attached homes a few blocks from Shore Road, within half an hour. He spent the bulk of the day putting up sheetrock with a guy from New Jersey who had relocated to his brother’s couch in Brooklyn because of the flooding earlier in the month that had devastated the town of Bound Brook in New Jersey.

The guy’s hard luck story reminded John things could be worse.

A few hours passed and it felt good doing physical work again. He saw the homes would still need taping and kitchen cabinet installation and hoped the builder would keep him on. He guessed the job would take at least another few weeks.

His muscles were sore when he finished for the day. He was also voraciously hungry. Except for a buttered roll during a short mid-afternoon break, John hadn’t eaten all day. He drove to Coney Island and parked around the corner from Nathan’s Famous where he had two frankfurters and French fries.

Afterward, he took a long stroll on the boardwalk and was enjoying the ocean breeze until he remembered he was supposed to stop at the bar in Williamsburg. John cursed himself under his breath when he also remembered his ex-wife and son and the call he hadn’t made to them.

He did an about-face and headed back to his car. He’d have to be calm when he dealt with Nick Santorra later. John still didn’t know what it was about, his being summoned to the bar.

He inhaled the ocean air before pulling into the light traffic on Surf Avenue. As he drove past Astroland and then the Aquarium on his right, John remembered Santorra’s warning the night before.

“Just make sure you show.”

John figured he’d have to hear it again when he got there, Santorra getting all full of himself and showing off in front of the other guys at the bar. He didn’t understand it, why guys like Eddie Vento kept morons like Santorra around. He wasn’t half as tough as he acted and couldn’t be very helpful to guys who lived off their reputations. Sooner or later a guy like Santorra would have to deliver on one of his threats and John doubted the big mouth could get it done.

He turned on the radio and listened to the song about something going round in circles. It was sung in question form, asking if something would fly high like a bird up in the sky. It was a catchy tune for a little while, then it became annoying and John changed to an AM all-news station, Ten-Ten WINS.

He turned up the volume when he heard the announcer say, “…a mob rubout in Queens.”

A few minutes later John learned it was a story about his weekend predecessor in the porn film distribution business. The body of Tommy DeLuca had been found in a Queens dumpster two days ago missing both hands.

“DeLuca was believed to be an associate of the Vignieri crime family with ties to pornography,” the reporter said. “Tonight police are offering a reward to anyone with information….”

John turned the radio off.

She had parked on 102 ndStreet off the corner of Jamaica Avenue a few minutes before three o’clock. At four o’clock Nancy called home to tell Nathan she’d been delayed and wouldn’t be home until late. At five o’clock she called Louis’s apartment to see if she had missed him outside the apartment building. At five-thirty and again at five-forty-five Nancy tried his apartment buzzer, but no one answered.

At six o’clock she walked around the corner to a pizza parlor on Jamaica Avenue and bought a slice and a soda. She had been having menstrual cramps since she left the house and hadn’t eaten anything all day. Nancy had hoped to see Louis again before the bleeding started.

It had been two days since she heard from him and now she was afraid he might’ve fallen for the young one he’d been chasing lately. Holly her name was, a twenty-something blonde with small tits, a perky ass and long legs. Miss Kansas or Missouri or Arkansas, wherever the hell she was from. Nancy had seen her one time when she had followed Louis to Jones Beach earlier in the summer. The blonde had worn short cutoffs over a bright pink bikini that showed off her long legs. Nancy had been furious at the sight of Louis holding her hand.

The day after spotting them on the beach, Nancy had confronted Louis over the phone. When she asked him where he’d been the day before, Louis had lied about working.

“Really?” she had said.

“Yeah, Nan, I was working. What business is it of yours, anyway? You’re married again.”

It was something she sometimes regretted, but something she planned to change as soon as she was entitled to half of Nathan’s assets. In the meantime, she had to live with Louis having girlfriends, even ones in their early twenties.