Johnny Porno

Chapter 25

Elias was sipping coffee on the stoop when John ran into him on his way out of the building. He tried to duck past him but the old man put a hand out to stop him.

“Good morning, Mr. Criminal,” Elias said.

“Mister MIA,” John said. “Where you been?”

“What this is, MIA?”

“Missing in action. Everybody thought you got married.”

Elias hadn’t been looking at John. He sipped his coffee, saw the bruise on John’s forehead and pointed to it.

“What happened?”

“I fell.”

“Bullshit.”

“I did.”

The old man motioned toward the street. “I see car outside last night. Looks like somebody watching here, this building.”

“Maybe it was a guy waiting for his date.”

“Maybe he’s waiting for you.”

“Yeah, what makes you think that?”

The two men stared at each other until Elias waved John off.

“You okay?” John asked.

“How do I look?”

“Like you didn’t get laid last night.”

“I didn’t, but is beside the point. Maybe this is Mafia friends waiting for you. You don’t know it’s not.”

John sighed. “You’re seeing things,” he said. “I hear you’re spending a lot of time around the corner.”

“She’s nice lady, but crazy. Madame Hortense, eh?”

“Who?”

“You should read more.”

“Soon’s I find the time.”

Elias waved him off. “Pff,” he said.

“See you later,” John said.

The old man bowed. “I thank you for the warning.”

Elias headed inside the building; John went to his car. The seven extra stops were mostly on the south shore of Long Island with five located between Freeport and Bayshore and the other two north off the Southern State Parkway in Uniondale and Hicksville. Although some of the new stops were Saturday showings only, coordinating them with his regulars located on the north shore proved to be a challenge.

He had arranged his route according to the first showing at each location. He made his first few stops without a problem, picking up the extra film reels at stop four. Then traffic slowed him down before one of his regular stops in West Islip and he was fifteen minutes late to the garage on Union Boulevard. When he showed the men waiting there the movie paraphernalia he had brought, three autographed posters of Linda Lovelace and two pair of the panties were sold on the spot.

John had been told to stop at George Berg’s house instead of the Knights of Columbus. Although he wouldn’t be leaving the film, the stop was supposed to throw off police surveillance. He’d been nervous the police were watching Berg. The last thing he needed was an arrest he couldn’t afford.

Once he had started his route, he remained focused on the reward; he stood to double his weekend pay. He stopped at Berg’s house and played the game with one eye on the time.

“I guess you didn’t get Linda Lovelace to make the drive with you today, huh?” Berg said.

“Would you believe me if I told you I have a shitload of autographed posters in the trunk?”

“I’d believe it if I saw them. And then I’d be pissed for not getting any royalties on the idea. The hell happened your forehead?”

“I fell.”

“Head first?”

“George, gimme a break here.”

“Sorry,” Berg said.

“I also have signed panties,” John told him. “And I’ll give you a little inside info, just because I like you and hate to see you get upset over our inability to do business this weekend.”

“What’s that?” Berg asked. “It’s not really her signature?”

John looked in both directions before winking at Berg. “But you never heard that from me,” he said.

Berg motioned with his head for John to look up the street. “Yellow Mustang about halfway up the block,” he said. “There’re two of them in it, two of the three came here the other day, knocked on my door, wanted to know if I knew anybody peddling a porno. The other one didn’t show yet had the balls the other day to walk inside my house, use the toilet. He even took a soda from the fridge before he left.”

“Sounds like a warning to me,” John said. “Or they wouldn’t’ve knocked, right?”

“Somebody’s getting greased. Except today I’m the fall guy. No movie, no money.”

“Word is there’s another one about to hit the market. You can run a double feature.”

“What, she make a sequel already?”

“Something from the Coast they’re bootlegging here now. Behind the Green Door?”

“The Ivory Snow girl,” Berg said. “She’s a cutie alright.”

“She is?”

“Marilyn Chambers. You haven’t seen her?”

“I don’t have time to watch movies, George. Maybe some day when I’m retired.”

“I hear that.”

“Okay, I guess I’ll see you next week again.”

“Hopefully under better circumstances.”

John shook Berg’s hand, pulled away from the curb and glanced up at the rearview mirror. He saw the yellow Mustang hadn’t moved. He glanced at his watch and saw he’d burned an extra five minutes he didn’t have to spare.

Bridget jammed a worn paperback novel under the front end of the projector to adjust the height of the picture on her living room wall. She had set the projector on the end table beside her couch while Eddie Vento, his feet up on the cocktail table, snored on the opposite end of the couch. Half an hour ago, they had watched the new film he said his crew would be pushing, Behind the Green Door, but when the scene with the black guy began, Vento made her turn the projector off.

Last night he’d come back to the apartment drunk after playing cards through the night and wouldn’t talk. Bridget had let him sleep until noon, but now he was grumpy with a hangover. She needed to get him out of the way for a few minutes while she changed the tape in the recorder hidden under the couch.

She flipped a switch and the projector whirred to life. Vento woke from the noise and quickly covered his eyes from the flashing spots on the living room wall.

“Again?” he said.

“This is the other one,” she said. “I wanna show you something.”

Vento removed his legs from the table and leaned forward with his right hand still shading his eyes as the music began.

“Show me what?” he said.

“How much better-looking I am than this woman.”

The music from the movie started.

“Turn it down,” Vento said. “God damn noise.”

Bridget turned the volume down. Vento started for the bathroom.

“Wait, don’t go yet,” she said. “Watch.”

Vento was halfway across the living room. “Watch my ass,” he said.

Bridget stopped the projector.

“You could’ve waited,” she said. “It would’ve taken you all of two seconds.”

“What?” he yelled.

She was about to repeat herself when she heard him peeing. “At least close the door,” she said. “Asshole,” she whispered.

She quickly retrieved the recorder from under the couch and replaced the used tape with a blank one. She rushed back to the projector and slid the tape in the end-table drawer.

Vento was drying his face when he returned a few minutes later. Bridget turned on the projector again, then turned up the volume. The music from the start of Deep Throat began.

“Turn that fucking thing off,” he said. “I know she’s a dog. Nobody cares. She can swallow a telephone pole.”

“Maybe it takes practice,” she said.

Vento sat on the couch again. He stared at Bridget until she turned the projector off.

“I know I can make money doing that,” she said. “All I need is the connections. I wouldn’t mind driving that car she had in the movie, that Cadillac.”

“Trust me,” Vento said, “it wasn’t hers.”

“I’ll bet she can afford one.”

“Not in this life.”

“Bullshit.”

“Fine, bullshit. You know everything. Go make some coffee.”

“In a minute. You’re telling me she’s not making money?”

“I’m telling you it’s not half what you think, if that much. And the car belongs to the guy made the movie, the director. If not him, it’s somebody works with him. The guys made that movie, backed it, didn’t go for spit.”

“You know him, the guy made it?”

“Which one, the director or the guy backed it?”

“Either.”

“Yeah, I know the guy backed it. He already moved his operation down there where they made the thing, Florida.”

Bridget set her hands on her hips. “And?”

“And what?” Vento said. “Enough with you and these movies already. I’m tired of hearing it.”

“Thanks a lot, Eddie. First you make promises and then you ignore me.”

“Promises about what?”

“The movies. You know the guy who made that movie or not?”

“What guy?”

“The one with the car.”

“Jesus Christ, I just said. I know of him. I know who he’s around. I know the guy backed it, him and his sons.”

“Well?”

“I thought you needed to know I might tell you.”

“Great. You know what it all sounds like to me? Bullshit, that’s what.”

“Sorry you don’t approve.”

“What I shouldn’t approve of is this… us… you, Eddie. I’m gonna be an old maid, maybe I should find me a sucker instead of being one for you.”

Vento motioned at her to come to him. “Don’t go off half cocked,” he said. “Take it easy with this. I’m tryin’ to look out for you here.”

Bridget was standing in front of him. He reached for her, but she stepped back. “I mean it,” she said. “What’s the point. I ask you for something and you blow me off. Thanks, but no thanks.”

“And maybe I’m trying to save you from a life you don’t know about,” Vento said. “You’d do a lot better married to some guy someday.”

“If you really know somebody can help me, then do it. How’s that? Otherwise, I’m done with being your gumarra. I can tend bar anywhere.”

Vento rubbed his head with both hands. “Alright, fine,” he said. “I’ll make the call, but you go make the coffee, please already.” He huffed, picked up the phone and dialed a number.

Bridget stood staring at him from across the room with her arms folded. Vento looked her off when someone answered on the other end of the line. She waited until she heard him talking before heading to the kitchen to make his coffee.