Class Act

22

Manny put away his phone and started looking for the two safes. A car pulled up across the lot and sat there. Someone was watching. Manny redoubled his efforts. He found the larger of the two safes, intact, under a bleacher. A few moments later he found the smaller safe, its door ajar. It was half full of hundreds, the rest were lying about it, like fallen leaves. What Manny needed was a rake, but all he had was his hands.

Vinnie was watching Manny from the car when his phone rang. He hoped it was Johnny Fratelli, because he had a few things to say to him

“This is Vinnie.”

“You know who this is.” It was never a question.

“Sure, good morning.”

“What are you doing at this moment?” Sal asked.

“I’m watching Manny on his hands and knees, raking up Franklins. He’s doing a pretty good job.”

“Here’s the way it’s going to be,” Sal said. “You now have Manny’s job, and he has yours. Capisce?”

“I’m not sure I want his job,” Vinnie said. “If I had it, I’d be on my hands and knees right now, raking up money, instead of in my box at the track, enjoying the racing.”

“You can do the job from your box, for all I care, as long as the count gets done and shipped every day.”

“And who will do that job?”

“Manny. He’s you now.”

“Nah, I’d spend all my time watching my back and watching him try to steal your money. I got no interest.”

“Vinnie, it’s double what you were making, and Manny is making a third of what he was making.”

“That makes him dangerous,” Vinnie said. “The job is unattractive with him around.”

“Then fire him, put a cap in his head, and he’s no more worry.”

“You’ve got people who do that faster and better than I could do,” Vinnie said. “My gift is handling money.” Vinnie knew that he was edging pretty close to insubordination. And certainly, he would never have said this to the Don himself. But Sal’s job was to translate for the Don, then pass down the orders.

“Done. And he’ll buy you a new trailer today, too. And replace the three mil in the safes.”

“Don’t worry about that: the big one was not breached, and he’s raking up the money from the little one now.”

“Fine. As soon as the new trailer is there and hooked up, tell Manny he’s working too hard and to take a few days off. He won’t come back.”

“I got a kid who’s a runner, could do my old job.”

“Good. Do it. Pay yourself and him in cash.”

“I’ll commit for a year,” Vinnie said.

“What? It’ll take you a year to learn the job.”

“I learned it in a week, when I came to work for Manny,” Vinnie said.

“Okay, you got yourself a deal. Start by doing whatever you have to to make Johnny Fratelli a happy man.”

“I’ve already done that, and I don’t know where he is. If he wants to talk, he calls.”

“Smart guy, Johnny.” Sal hung up.

Manny got home late, his suit filthy and ruined. He’d never known how hard it was to corral hundred-dollar bills in a breeze, but it was all secured, and there was a new Airstream in lot five, all hooked up. Not that he was happy about it.

“Hilda!” he shouted. He was hungry, and he wanted dinner now.

“Shut your mouth,” she called from upstairs. “I’ll be down when I’m ready.”

This was grounds for severe punishment, but he was too tired to go upstairs and administer it. Then he saw the pile of suitcases in the living room. He walked in there and hefted a couple. All packed.

There was a rap on the door, and two men in workmen’s clothes opened the door and walked in. “Outta the way,” one of them said to Manny. “We’re taking the rest of her stuff.”

“The hell you are,” Manny said, and he produced enough adrenaline to propel him up the stairs. He stopped at the top and panted a little. He heard the front door close and a truck start up outside.

“Hilda!” he screamed.

Hilda came out of the bedroom, fully dressed and carrying her mink coat on a hanger. “Oh, shut up,” she said, producing a silenced pistol from under the coat.

“What the fuck?” Manny said.

“You,” she replied. “You’re fucked.” She shot him in the head, and he collapsed in a heap, then she put another one in his brain. “Compliments of Sal and the Don,” she said, then walked downstairs to a waiting car with a driver, who held the door for her.

“All done?” he asked.

“Done,” she said.

“Somebody’s coming to torch the place,” he replied.

“We won’t wait,” she said. “I’ve got a plane to catch.”

Vinnie was sitting in his new Airstream, tidying his new desk. The two safes had been installed and the toilet charged with the requisite chemicals. There was a pot of coffee on the stove, and the fridge was stocked with beer and diet drinks. His cell phone rang.

“This is Vinnie.”

“It’s Johnny,” he said.

“Speak of the devil,” Vinnie said, laughing. “You know who was just asking about you?”

“Who would that be?”

“Sal. He’s consigliere now.”

“Good for him.”

“I’ll give you a number, you ever need anything.”

Jack wrote it down. “Why would he want to hear from me?”

“He holds you in high regard, the way you handle things. He asked me to make you happy, if I got a chance.”

“I’ll pocket that one for a while.”

“Oh, I’m sitting here in a brand-new Airstream trailer, not that you would care about that. And I’ve got Manny’s job.”

“What happened to Manny?”

“I hear he went on an extended vacation. You ought to see this trailer. It’s really something!”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“You’re happy then?”

“Pretty much.”

“Any problems?”

“Just one, but I’ll solve that problem eventually.”

“Call me if you need something. Or if it’s really important, call Sal.”

“Give Sal my best.” He hung up.