when you’ve been there before. It’s an exciting place with all the politics, and there are a lot of great places to eat and drink.”
Now she made this face like New York was the only place where they knew how to cook.
“Anyway, I was thinking you could come down this summer, stay a week or two, get to know the city better. And by then, maybe I’ll have a place of my own.” He hoped.
“What would I tell my mother?”
Before he could tell her that her mother wasn’t all that bright and he’d come up with an acceptable lie, his damn cousin walked into the bar. What the hell was he doing here? Why wasn’t he working?
His cousin, Danny DeMarco, was maybe the handsomest son of a bitch in Queens. Ask any girl in the borough. Joe also knew the bastard would screw anything in a skirt, and naturally he found Marie attractive. He didn’t think, however, that Danny would be such a rat as to ask his own cousin’s girlfriend out. He hoped.
They spent the next hour drinking beer, Marie laughing her ass off at almost anything Danny said. Danny was, Joe had to admit, a funny guy. It also seemed like she had to touch his arm or grab his hand every time she wanted to make a point. Joe was almost glad when she said she had to go home.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Joe said.
He was going to be really pissed if Marie’s mom wasn’t out of the house tomorrow.
He called Marie the next morning, and she told him to come over around two, that her mom was playing canasta that afternoon. He showered, shaved extra close, and splashed on some cologne he’d given his father five years ago, which his dad never used. But when he gets to Marie’s house, her damn mother’s there. She told Joe she had a headache and had decided to skip her canasta game but it was okay if Joe stayed for a little while and visited with Marie. Joe almost screamed at her: “So take a fucking aspirin!”
At least dinner that night was fun, mainly because his Aunt Connie, his godmother, was there. She was a hoot. She even put his mother in a good mood. His dad, who usually didn’t say much anyway, was even more silent than usual, and Joe got the impression he had something on his mind.
His mom mentioned at one point that he wanted to get a city job, working for a prosecutor’s office.
“Really?” Connie said.
“What’s wrong with that?” his father said, like he was coming to Joe’s defense.
“Well, nothing, I guess,” Connie said. “That kind of job is a good way to launch a career.” But Joe noticed the look she gave his mother.
“Anyway,” Joe said, “I’m hoping to get hired by some outfit near D.C. I like it there. I’m taking the bar exam in the fall.”
“I know a lot of people down there,” Connie said. “I’ll see if I can do something to grease the skids for you, sweetie.”
Then she started telling stories about this man she used to work for, this John Mahoney, a congressman from Boston who was now Speaker of the House. Connie said the guy drank like a fish, was probably getting money under the table from all kinds of people, and cheated on his wife every chance he got. The way she talked, though, Joe could tell she was actually fond of the guy and he couldn’t help but wonder, back then when his Aunt Connie had a waist, if she and Mahoney might have been an item. Whatever the case, Mahoney sounded like your typical D.C. politician, the kind of guy Joe didn’t ever want anything to do with.
Connie left about eight and Joe was thinking he should spend at least a couple of hours studying before he went to bed. That was when his father said, “I gotta go out for a while.” His mother gave him a look that would blister paint off the wall but didn’t say anything.
Joe was sitting at the dining room table when his father left the house. He was trying to make sense out of some case he was told would be on one of his finals, some convoluted, incomprehensible thing having to do with property law. Before his dad walked
Now she made this face like New York was the only place where they knew how to cook.
“Anyway, I was thinking you could come down this summer, stay a week or two, get to know the city better. And by then, maybe I’ll have a place of my own.” He hoped.
“What would I tell my mother?”
Before he could tell her that her mother wasn’t all that bright and he’d come up with an acceptable lie, his damn cousin walked into the bar. What the hell was he doing here? Why wasn’t he working?
His cousin, Danny DeMarco, was maybe the handsomest son of a bitch in Queens. Ask any girl in the borough. Joe also knew the bastard would screw anything in a skirt, and naturally he found Marie attractive. He didn’t think, however, that Danny would be such a rat as to ask his own cousin’s girlfriend out. He hoped.
They spent the next hour drinking beer, Marie laughing her ass off at almost anything Danny said. Danny was, Joe had to admit, a funny guy. It also seemed like she had to touch his arm or grab his hand every time she wanted to make a point. Joe was almost glad when she said she had to go home.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Joe said.
He was going to be really pissed if Marie’s mom wasn’t out of the house tomorrow.
He called Marie the next morning, and she told him to come over around two, that her mom was playing canasta that afternoon. He showered, shaved extra close, and splashed on some cologne he’d given his father five years ago, which his dad never used. But when he gets to Marie’s house, her damn mother’s there. She told Joe she had a headache and had decided to skip her canasta game but it was okay if Joe stayed for a little while and visited with Marie. Joe almost screamed at her: “So take a fucking aspirin!”
At least dinner that night was fun, mainly because his Aunt Connie, his godmother, was there. She was a hoot. She even put his mother in a good mood. His dad, who usually didn’t say much anyway, was even more silent than usual, and Joe got the impression he had something on his mind.
His mom mentioned at one point that he wanted to get a city job, working for a prosecutor’s office.
“Really?” Connie said.
“What’s wrong with that?” his father said, like he was coming to Joe’s defense.
“Well, nothing, I guess,” Connie said. “That kind of job is a good way to launch a career.” But Joe noticed the look she gave his mother.
“Anyway,” Joe said, “I’m hoping to get hired by some outfit near D.C. I like it there. I’m taking the bar exam in the fall.”
“I know a lot of people down there,” Connie said. “I’ll see if I can do something to grease the skids for you, sweetie.”
Then she started telling stories about this man she used to work for, this John Mahoney, a congressman from Boston who was now Speaker of the House. Connie said the guy drank like a fish, was probably getting money under the table from all kinds of people, and cheated on his wife every chance he got. The way she talked, though, Joe could tell she was actually fond of the guy and he couldn’t help but wonder, back then when his Aunt Connie had a waist, if she and Mahoney might have been an item. Whatever the case, Mahoney sounded like your typical D.C. politician, the kind of guy Joe didn’t ever want anything to do with.
Connie left about eight and Joe was thinking he should spend at least a couple of hours studying before he went to bed. That was when his father said, “I gotta go out for a while.” His mother gave him a look that would blister paint off the wall but didn’t say anything.
Joe was sitting at the dining room table when his father left the house. He was trying to make sense out of some case he was told would be on one of his finals, some convoluted, incomprehensible thing having to do with property law. Before his dad walked
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