Read Online Eggplant Alley (9781593731410) by D. Cataneo - Free Book Online Page A

his keys, on his way to make Saturday deliveries.
    â€œGot enough eggs there?” Dad said to Nicky. Then to Mom, “I’ll be back around two.” He walked across the linoleum, then stopped and turned, as if an idea had popped into his head, out of nowhere.
    Dad said, “Hey. Nicola—you want to come with me?”
    â€œWho?” Nicky said, eyes wide. “Me?”
    â€œIs there anybody else here named Nicola?”
    â€œI’ll get my coat,” Nicky said, bolting from the chair.
    Nicky was going with Dad on a delivery run. This was a major development. Roy used to go with Dad in the good old days, and when Roy lost interest, Dad was hurt by the loss, and the subject of ride-along with Dad never came up again. Until today.
    To tell the truth, as far as Nicky was concerned, this was better than Willie Mays joining the Yankees.
    Nicky sat high, legs dangling, on the saggy passenger seat as Dad expertly steered the Yum-E-Cakes van through the narrow streets. Dad weaved around double-parked cars, dodged a jaywalking pigeon, sped up in order to catch a green light, and coasted nicely through a yellow light. Nicky proudly thought Dad would have made a fine fighter pilot, if given the chance.
    â€œSlide open the door for some air,” Dad suggested.
    â€œAre you sure?” Nicky said. “I might fall out.”
    â€œDon’t worry about it. Roy never fell out.”
    Nicky grunted as he slid back the rusting door and was hit by a rushing blast of warm air, exhaust fumes, and the sounds of passing car radios. The sensation was thrilling.
    Their first stop was the DeSerpico Bros. distribution warehouse in the South Bronx. When they passed the bright white hulk of Yankee Stadium, Nicky gawked and felt a surge of longing and excitement.
    â€œDad, think we could go to a game this year?”
    â€œMaybe,” Dad said without enthusiasm. “Or maybe next year, when Roy is back. The three of us. Like the old days, huh?”
    Now they were rolling along narrow, potholed streets bordered by junkyards, barbed-wire fences, weedy lots, and abandoned factories with punched-out windows. Nicky was enthralled by a magnificent mountain of crushed cars, tailfins glittery in the sun. Nicky’s teeth chattered and he was nearly bucked out of his seat when the van rattled over a stretch of broken railroad tracks. He grinned wildly and held on tight as the van rocked along the muddy dirt road leading to the DeSerpico warehouse, hard by the banks of the green, smelly Harlem River.
    Dad braked sharply, toppling an empty coffee cup from the dashboard.
    â€œHow was that, squirt?” Dad said.
    â€œBetter than a ride at Playland.”
    â€œI’ll be right back.”
    Dad yanked a dolly from the rear of the truck. Nicky watched his father in the side-view mirror. A man stacking boxes on a loading dock called, “Hey, Sal, howzit going?”
    â€œHardly working. I mean, working hard,” Dad said.
    â€œYuh,” the man said, grinning.
    Nicky wondered if he would ever grow up to be as witty and quick as Dad.
    Dad and Nicky worked their way north, delivering Yum-E-Cakes on a route that ran through the Bronx and looped into Yonkers. Dad told inside stories about each stop. Adolph of Adolph’s Luncheonette once appeared on the television prank show
Candid Camera
. He was victimized by a talking mailbox. They bleeped out his swear words. Bob Hope once dropped into O’Brien’s Sundriesfor an egg cream. “They had the best egg creams in the Bronx while O’Brien was alive,” Dad noted. “Now—not so good.”
    Dad said Moe’s Deli used a rigged scale. Ching’s Grocery had a rat problem. Scungilli’s Meats did a thriving business illegally selling pig intestines.
    And so forth. Nicky ate up every morsel of juicy, inside information, because it made him feel in-the-know, grown-up, savvy, and best of all he felt like a confidant of