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Authors: Giacomo Giammatteo
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shit.”
“Where you want him walked?”
Knuckles grunted. “That’s more like it. Take him to the park. And be patient. That dog will piss on everything he sees.”
“Jesus Christ, Knuckles I don’t have all night.”
Knuckles laid his cards on the table and turned to stare at Tony. “You got ten dollars, you shit. If I tell you to walk that fuckin’ dog to Philly and get him a cheesesteak, that’s what you’ll do.”
Tony headed toward the door, his hand waving in the air. “Okay. Okay. Fuck.”
“Watch your fuckin ’ mouth. I already told you.” Knuckles turned to Doggs. “I don’t want that kid no more. Next time give me The Rat or Bugs.” He shook his head as he picked up his cards, mumbling. “Can’t stand ungratefulness in a boy.”
Shoes crushed his cigar out in the ashtray. “Hope he doesn’t run into Chinski’s dog. That son-of-a-bitch is nasty, and it can run.”
“Should be in a race,” Face said, then looked around the room. “You know, that ain’t a bad idea. We should get all the dogs in the neighborhood and have a race. Bet on them.”
I smiled, but I wanted to laugh at him. How the hell is he gonna have a dog race in the neighborhood? I’m stuck with two losers, and now Face was thinking about dog races instead of cards. Just win a pot, I wanted to tell him.
Suddenly an idea hit me. When Face said we should have a race, it reminded me of the way those roaches ran when Doggs dumped them on the floor. Face was right; the neighborhood needed races, but not with dogs—with roaches.
CHAPTER 13
WHAT’S IN A NAME?
Brooklyn—Current Day
F rankie drove home with the heater cranked up to 75. He circled the block looking for a parking spot, then saw Keisha and Alex playing step ball. He picked up energy drinks and beef jerky, which Keisha loved, then came around again. On this pass, Alex flagged him down. Frankie lowered the window. “What’s up?”
Alex pointed to construction cones blocking part of the street next to the curb. “Saved you one, FD. Figured that might be worth something on a day like this, knowing how you hate the cold and all.”
Frankie laughed as Alex cleared his spot. The kids called him FD . He didn’t know if it stood for his initials or “fuckin’ dick” but he didn’t care; they said it with respect.
“Who’s got five for old FD?” Frankie said as he got out of the car.
“Sure as shit ain’t me,” Alex said, and held his hand out to bump fists. “You know we don’t do that slap-five shit no more. How old are you?”
“Too damn old, I guess.” Frankie tossed a pack of jerky and handed them the drinks. “How’s my best girl?” Keisha was an adorable kid, twelve years old, with smooth chocolate skin and long hair she wore in pigtails.
“Waiting for you to make my day. You’re the only one who laughs, besides me and Alex.”
“You’re both full of shit.” Frankie started to walk away but Alex called him back.
“Hey, FD. How ’bout you stay and share a smoke with your little buddy?”
“You’re too damn young to share a smoke,” Frankie said, but he stopped at the stoop and handed one to Alex, then stood around to talk.
“FD, why you always jiggling change in your pocket?”
“To remind myself that I need real money. Cheese. Green. Whatever you want to call it.”
“If you don’t think that change is real, hand it over to Alex.”
Frankie laughed, but he gave Alex his change and went inside. The steps to his apartment were worn from years of tired feet scraping them. He was tired, too, and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. But he knew he’d end up working; he couldn’t get his mind off the girl. If Nicky had anything to do with this, the girl was a key. When Nicky called, he said she was in trouble, and not the kind of trouble that got solved in a back room of a dark alley. This was mob trouble, and these killings had mob written all over them. Of course that brought Tony Sannullo into play too. Tony
“Where you want him walked?”
Knuckles grunted. “That’s more like it. Take him to the park. And be patient. That dog will piss on everything he sees.”
“Jesus Christ, Knuckles I don’t have all night.”
Knuckles laid his cards on the table and turned to stare at Tony. “You got ten dollars, you shit. If I tell you to walk that fuckin’ dog to Philly and get him a cheesesteak, that’s what you’ll do.”
Tony headed toward the door, his hand waving in the air. “Okay. Okay. Fuck.”
“Watch your fuckin ’ mouth. I already told you.” Knuckles turned to Doggs. “I don’t want that kid no more. Next time give me The Rat or Bugs.” He shook his head as he picked up his cards, mumbling. “Can’t stand ungratefulness in a boy.”
Shoes crushed his cigar out in the ashtray. “Hope he doesn’t run into Chinski’s dog. That son-of-a-bitch is nasty, and it can run.”
“Should be in a race,” Face said, then looked around the room. “You know, that ain’t a bad idea. We should get all the dogs in the neighborhood and have a race. Bet on them.”
I smiled, but I wanted to laugh at him. How the hell is he gonna have a dog race in the neighborhood? I’m stuck with two losers, and now Face was thinking about dog races instead of cards. Just win a pot, I wanted to tell him.
Suddenly an idea hit me. When Face said we should have a race, it reminded me of the way those roaches ran when Doggs dumped them on the floor. Face was right; the neighborhood needed races, but not with dogs—with roaches.
CHAPTER 13
WHAT’S IN A NAME?
Brooklyn—Current Day
F rankie drove home with the heater cranked up to 75. He circled the block looking for a parking spot, then saw Keisha and Alex playing step ball. He picked up energy drinks and beef jerky, which Keisha loved, then came around again. On this pass, Alex flagged him down. Frankie lowered the window. “What’s up?”
Alex pointed to construction cones blocking part of the street next to the curb. “Saved you one, FD. Figured that might be worth something on a day like this, knowing how you hate the cold and all.”
Frankie laughed as Alex cleared his spot. The kids called him FD . He didn’t know if it stood for his initials or “fuckin’ dick” but he didn’t care; they said it with respect.
“Who’s got five for old FD?” Frankie said as he got out of the car.
“Sure as shit ain’t me,” Alex said, and held his hand out to bump fists. “You know we don’t do that slap-five shit no more. How old are you?”
“Too damn old, I guess.” Frankie tossed a pack of jerky and handed them the drinks. “How’s my best girl?” Keisha was an adorable kid, twelve years old, with smooth chocolate skin and long hair she wore in pigtails.
“Waiting for you to make my day. You’re the only one who laughs, besides me and Alex.”
“You’re both full of shit.” Frankie started to walk away but Alex called him back.
“Hey, FD. How ’bout you stay and share a smoke with your little buddy?”
“You’re too damn young to share a smoke,” Frankie said, but he stopped at the stoop and handed one to Alex, then stood around to talk.
“FD, why you always jiggling change in your pocket?”
“To remind myself that I need real money. Cheese. Green. Whatever you want to call it.”
“If you don’t think that change is real, hand it over to Alex.”
Frankie laughed, but he gave Alex his change and went inside. The steps to his apartment were worn from years of tired feet scraping them. He was tired, too, and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. But he knew he’d end up working; he couldn’t get his mind off the girl. If Nicky had anything to do with this, the girl was a key. When Nicky called, he said she was in trouble, and not the kind of trouble that got solved in a back room of a dark alley. This was mob trouble, and these killings had mob written all over them. Of course that brought Tony Sannullo into play too. Tony
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