The winter of Frankie Machine

16

Jimmy the Kid rents a car at the airport and drives out to his uncle’s place in West Palm.

It’s nice to be in Florida. Nice to be cruising in a convertible, getting some sun. Jimmy runs a hand through his dyed-blond hair. He likes his new look-bright blond, almost a buzz cut.

Nice, too, to show off the tatts in short-sleeve weather.

Got him some of those Chinese symbols-“Strength,” “Courage,” “Loyalty.” Got him a big wrecking ball on his right forearm, about to swing down on some geek in an old Caddy.

“The Wrecking Crew.”

Nice.

Tony’s bungalow is sweltering. It’s a hot day anyway, and Jimmy swears the old man has the freaking heat turned on in the house. He glances at the thermostat and it reads 85.

And Uncle Tony has a sweater on.

It’s his circulation, Jimmy thinks. The blood just isn’t moving. And old men get cold.

Jimmy hugs his uncle and kisses him on both cheeks. The skin feels like parchment paper on his lips.

Tony Jacks is glad to see his nephew.

“Come, sit.”

They go into the living room. Jimmy sits down on the sofa and his legs stick to the plastic covering in the heat.

“You want something to drink?” Uncle Tony asks. “I’ll call the girl.”

“I’m good.”

They make the requisite small talk for a few minutes; then Tony Jacks gets to the point. “What brings you here, Jimmy?”

“This mess in San Diego.”

Tony Jacks shakes his head. “They’d asked me, I’d’ve told them Vince couldn’t handle that job.”

“What I said.”

“I’ve known this Frankie since he was a kid,” Tony Jacks says. “He did some work for me, back in the day. A tough nut to crack.”

“I want the shot, Uncle Tony.”

Tony Jacks looks at him for a few seconds, then says, “That’s up to Jack Tominello, nephew. He’s the boss.”

“Youshould be boss,” Jimmy says. “Or my father. It should be the Giacamones, not the Tominellos. I figure I do this thing, I take over whatever Vince had going in San Diego.”

“What do you know about that?”

“Something about strip clubs.”

“It’s a lot more than a few strippers.”

“Why such a hard-on for Frankie Machine?” Jimmy asks. “Why did we even want him gone?”

Tony Jacks leans forward. It looks like it takes some effort. His voice drops into a hoarse whisper. “What I’m about to tell you, Jimmy, your father doesn’t know. Even Jack doesn’t know. And if I tell you, you can never tell another soul as long as you live.”

“I won’t.”

“Swear.”

“I swear to God,” Jimmy says.

Tony Jacks tells him a story. It goes way back and it takes a long time.

When Jimmy the Kid finally leaves his uncle’s house, he is blown freaking away.

Freakingaway.