lot. I buried cats where more people showed. So, d’you like my brother?”
“Not really. He was a hard guy to like, but I owe him. I also own an oil company now, so I got my reasons for coming.”
“Thanks for coming, no matter why.” She wrapped her arm in his and walked Joe into the home.
In front of five rows of empty wooden folding chairs, the closed coffin lay in the chapel’s smallest viewing room. There was a uniformed honor guard from the NYPD standing a bored vigil along the walls. They outnumbered the rest of the attendees even if you included Rusty Monaco’s body in the count. A funeral director strolled laps around the room.
“I guess you were right about the cat burials,” Joe said.
“What does it matter anyhow? Rusty ain’t counting heads. Come on, let’s get a prime seat before all the good ones are taken.”
“You’re pretty funny.”
“Comin’ outta our family, I had to be.” She wasn’t smiling now and before Joe could ask another question, Gigi walked up to the coffin, knelt, and crossed herself. She moved her lips and crossed herself again before touching her bent fingers to her mouth.
“Go say something,” she said, pushing Serpe’s arm, “even if it’s thanks.”
It wasn’t Serpe’s style, but he did it anyway. He said a quick thanks and sat back down. They sat there quietly for a few minutes, Joe studying Gigi’s hard face. No tears. No cracks. Not much of anything washed across it.
“You guys keep in touch?” Joe broke the silence.
“Not really. There wasn’t a whole lotta love in our house, not from my folks and not between us kids. Rusty kinda looked after me when I was little, so I guess I owe him too.”
“So you didn’t know about him moving to the condo in Plantation City, I guess.”
Now Gigi showed more on her face than she had since coming to Joe’s aid in the parking lot. And what she showed wavered between skepticism and total disbelief.
“Get the fuck outta here! My brother didn’t have two nickels to rub together his whole life. What he didn’t blow on the ponies and pussy, his bitch wife soaked him for a few years back in the divorce. Not that she didn’t deserve it for putting up with his shit for so long. Christ, Joe, the only time I ever heard from Rusty was when he needed a stake from me. Why you think he was driving a oil truck for ten bucks a stop? No offense.”
“None taken. Still, the condo is a fact. Maybe he borrowed the money from a friend.”
“Yeah, right! How many friends you see here? Even if he coulda found someone who didn’t find him a miserable bastard, no one woulda lent Rusty a dime. Would you?”
“No.”
“And he saved your life, right?”
Joe conceded her point. He looked around and noticed that the honor guard was gone. A priest came in, made a little speech about Russell’s service to his community, said a few prayers, and then beat a quick path out of the place.
“I’m heading out,” he said. “Wait, I’ll go with you.”
As he offered his hand, Gigi asked if he didn’t want to go get a drink or something to eat. Joe felt as awkward as a teenager. He kind of liked her style and he had certainly been with women a lot less attractive than her, but he was still connected to Marla.
“I don’t think so,” he said, and started making excuses about his early morning.
“I don’t wanna fuck ya, for chrissakes, I just wanna have a drink with you.” “I’m hurt.”
“I like men when I’m in the mood for ‘em and if that wasn’t my brother’s carcass in there, I could probably work up the mood for you. But on the whole, I think you and me have the same preferences … if you catch my meaning.”
“I do. Okay, one drink.”
[Omerta]
S ATURDAY, J ANUARY 8TH, 2005
T he temperature was warmer than had been predicted and as the sun rose it seemed ready to preview its spring muscles. The firetrucks were parked on the concrete outside their bay doors. The guys at the firehouse were thrilled
Joseph N. Pelton
Stormie Kent
Shona Husk
Pat Warren
Susanna Gregory
Guy Davenport
Airicka Phoenix, Morgana Phoenix
Roger Hayden
Murray Pura
Brenda Stokes Lee