Read Online Tough Luck by Jason Starr - Free Book Online Page A

Illustrated s until the Jets-Colts game came on at one o’clock.
    During halftime of the four o’clock game—the Giants-Buccaneers—Mickey took a walk to Rocco’s Pizzeria on Avenue J and picked up a pepperoni pie for dinner. When he returned to his apartment, he heard his father screaming from inside the bathroom.
    “What’s going on?” Mickey said from the hallway. “What’s wrong?”
    “Get me outta here!” Sal screamed. “Get me the fuck outta here!”
    “Just unlock the door,” Mickey said, trying to twist the handle.
    “You locked me in here, you son of a bitch,” Sal said. “I’m gonna kill you!”
    Sal started banging against the door. Then someone started knocking on the door to the stairwell.
    It was Joseph, the landlord who lived in the apartment downstairs.
    “It’s all right!” Mickey yelled. “It’s just my father!”
    “Will you shut him the fuck up?” Joseph yelled back. “It’s Sunday for Chrissakes!”
    Sal was still screaming and cursing, banging frantically on the bathroom door. Blackie, Joseph’s German shepherd, was barking furiously in the apartment downstairs.
    “Stand back,” Mickey said.
    Sal was still screaming and banging.
    “I said stand back!”
    Finally, it was quiet for a few moments, then Mickey rammed against the door, shoulder first, but the door didn’t open.
    “Hey, what the hell are you doing?” Joseph yelled from the stairwell.
    Mickey rammed against the door again and again, and on his fourth try, the lock gave way and the door swung open.
    Sal was standing huddled in the corner near the toilet bowl, looking terrified.
    “It’s all right, Dad,” Mickey said. “It’s okay.”
    Mickey took a step forward, reaching out to touch his father, when Sal suddenly pushed by him, almost knocking him into the shower stall.
    “What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Mickey said as Sal went down the hallway into the bedroom and slammed the door.
    Later, Joseph installed a temporary hook lock on the bathroom door and told Mickey there would be a one-hundred-dollar surcharge on the rent next month to replace the original lock and repair the damage to the door.
    Mickey spent the rest of the day alone in his room. After the Giants game, he picked up the phone and dialed the first six digits of Rhonda’s number, then he hung up, deciding he was just wasting his time.
    AROUND TWO O’CLOCK on Monday afternoon, Angelo Santoro strutted into Vincent’s Fish Market. He was wearing a long black wool coat over a dark suit.
    “How ya doin’, kid?” Angelo said.
    “Pretty good,” Mickey said, hoping Angelo would take out his wallet.
    Angelo noticed Charlie in the store and said, “What happened to you?”
    “Fell off my bike,” Charlie said.
    “Sorry to hear that,” Angelo said. Then he turned back to Mickey and said, “Can we talk in private? Maybe step outside or something?”
    Mickey looked at Angelo’s coat, not seeing any bulge where his gun might be. He grabbed his jacket and followed him out the door.
    “Sorry I’ve been a little incognito lately,” Angelo said to Mickey when they got outside. “I’ve just had a lot of business to take care of lately with my boss, you know? I hope you understand.”
    “I understand,” Mickey said. “Of course I understand. I mean I knew it had to be something like that.”
    Angelo took out a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket.
    “Smoke?”
    “No thanks,” Mickey said.
    “Smart man. Probably save ten years on your life. Me? I’ll probably never know my grandkids. It’s all right, though. You gotta live life to love life, right?” Angelo lit his cigarette and took a long drag on it. After he blew smoke out of his mouth and nose, he said, “So you got the lines on tonight’s game?”
    Mickey smiled, hoping that Angelo was just joking. But by the way Angelo was looking at him, waiting for him to answer, Mickey knew he wasn’t.
    “I don’t know what the lines are,” Mickey said, not smiling