Casino Moon

28

“CAN I ASK you-all something, Rich?” asked the tall F.B.I agent named Wayne Sadowsky. “You a homosexual?”

“No, I’m, you know, I’m not like that.” Richie Amato looked puzzled and hurt. “Why you say that?”

“Because we’ve been meeting in this here hotel room and jerking each other off for three weeks now. Right? That’s what homosexuals do, ain’t it?”

“I don’t know,” said Richie, kneading the thick pink bedspread with his fingers and sticking out his lower lip.

They were on the third floor of a Howard Johnson’s motel in Absecon. Since getting arrested, Richie had been laying off the steroids and his body was beginning to steadily deflate like a great balloon losing air. He must have pissed away twelve pounds in the last week and a half. Folds of skin were hanging off his arms in places and there were touches of gray in his hair.

“Well, the way I see it, a real man wouldn’t do what you’re doing,” said the agent. “A real man would make an agreement and stick to it. He wouldn’t agree to cooperate and then try jerkin’ another man off.”

“I’m not jerking you off.”

“Well you sure ain’t telling me nothin’ I don’t already know,” Sadowsky said sharply.

He leaned on a pillow at the foot of the bed and his pant cuff lifted, revealing a pale hairy calf and an elastic garter holding up his sock. The two large men were only about a yard apart but they were barely looking at each other. Something about the intimacy and silence of the room was embarrassing to Richie.

“You know,” Sadowsky said. “It’s just gonna get to the point where we’ll say, ‘Hey, man, this ol’ dog won’t hunt. This man said he would cooperate and now he ain’t giving us anything. So forget the deal. Let’s just go charge him and see what happens.’ Is that what you want?”

“No.” Richie crossed his legs and hung his head like a sullen teenager.

“You know the lab result came back and said that was Larry’s blood on the clothes in the back of your car,” Sadowsky reminded him.

Richie said nothing and hugged himself, rocking slightly back and forth on the bed.

“Let me tell you, Rich, I am not without compassion,” said Sadowsky. “I understand how tough it can be for a bright young fella such as yourself. You-all grow up around wiseguys like Teddy and Vin all your life, and all you want to be is a made guy. I want to tell you, I know what it’s like to have to give up on a dream. I wanted to be an all-state linebacker when I was growing up and then I got polio. They thought they’d wiped it out but somehow I done went and got it anyway. And I used to dream every night about gettin’ on out of that wheelchair and kickin’ the shit out of some skinny-ass quarterback in the end zone. Joe Montana. I’d sit on his face. Who-haa!!”

He clapped his hands and grinned as he made the sound of impact. Richie almost jumped in surprise. But then the smile began to melt from Sadowsky’s face. “Yeah,” said the agent. “That was my dream. But when I woke up in the morning and saw I was still a gimp, it broke my heart all over again. So don’t think I don’t understand. I know what it’s like to feel like you don’t have any power to control what’s going to happen.”

Richie slowly raised his head and looked at him. “Well, if you know what I’m going through, why don’t you just let me go?”

Sadowsky laughed and laughed. “Come on, Richard. Let’s get serious,” he said, slapping his knee. “Tell me what you-all know about who whacked Larry and his son Nicky.”