Tower

Cover story. Cover girl. Women are the perfect camouflage. You could have thought up a thousand elaborate excuses for why I had to leave Brooklyn, why I had to quit Uncle Harry’s, why I had to temporarily part company with Boyle and the boyos, yet none would have done the trick like the mention of a woman. Let me tell you something, it’s men that are the bigger suckers for love. Women look for love. Men look for pussy and stumble onto love. And Christ, when we stumble it’s an endless fall. Who do you think misses their first loves more, men or women? If you say women, you’re a fool.

So when I went to Boyle and told him I’d met someone and that I was moving to Philadelphia to be with her, he didn’t flinch. Fuck, not only didn’t he flinch, the man offered to get me in with some donkeys down Broad Street way. Politely refused, saying that if I was going to do dirt, it would only be on his behalf. Smiled like a proud father. Unnerved me, that smile. Never seen its like from my own dad. With the atmosphere surrounding my mom’s suicide and with Nicky earning like he was, Boyle didn’t give my leaving a second thought. Still O’Connor and Ira thought we should make a bit of a show of it, wanted to prove to Boyle’s crew that there was a girl and that I was smitten.

Didn’t have to pretend, for I was smitten, immediately, on the spot, even now. Met at a Starbucks up in Scarsdale: a town of well-to-do Asians and Jews pretending to be Biff and Muffy at the club. Not the kind of place you’d be apt to find Boyle, Griffin or Nicky sipping Pinot Noir by the pool or quietly clapping by the tee box and shouting, “Well struck!”

“You Rosen?” she asked, coming up behind me.

“Last time I checked.” I made to stand.

“Don’t bother. I’m Velez, Leeza Velez.”

God, just thinking about the first time I saw her gives me that odd sensation, a cross between nerves and nirvana. She was about five foot five with elegant curves, straight sable hair that hung just slightly over her shoulders. She had bright brown eyes, a nose and jaw line that plastic surgeons could only hope to reproduce, and a dangerous mouth. Her teeth were even and white, her lips plush but not extravagant. The combination made for an electric smile, make believe though it was.

“Kiss me!”

“What?”

“We’re in love, remember?”

Kissed her awkwardly, like I had a mouth full of braces. Felt about twelve years old.

“Christ, you’ll have to do better than that,” she said. “If we’re being watched, they’re gonna think you’re either a liar or half a fag.”

So I folded her in my arms and kissed her hard on the mouth, my tongue slipping effortlessly between her lips. If she was surprised or displeased, she didn’t show it. Didn’t have to see her in workout clothes to know she was well muscled and strong. Could feel her power. When I pulled back, noticed that in spite of her name, dark skin and vaguely Hispanic features, there was another kind of mojo at work in her.

“Puerto Rican, but not one hundred percent,” I said.

“You taste my kiss and tell me the percentage of spic in my blood? It’s blood, asshole, not red wine.”

“Am I right or what?”

“We’re all mongrels in this country. It makes for beauty and barbarity.”

“A philosopher.”

“A U.S. Marshal. I’m here to keep you safe and watch your ass, not kiss it. I’m not here to suck your dick or wash your clothes,” she said, all the time smiling. “Do we understand one another?”

Smiled back with no pretense. Held my fingers a few inches apart. “So I’m sure you have a file on me this thick, but I don’t know anything about you.”

“What you wanna know?”

“Puerto Rican and...?”

“This shit again!” Caught a glimmer of mischief in her eye. “Guess!”

“Irish.”

“Yeah, some of that.”

“Russian.”

“Some of that, too.”

“Anything else?” I asked.

“Probably.”

“If this is an NYPD gig, why is a U.S. Marshal involved?”

“Cooperation between agencies.”

“Bullshit! Even subway fare jumpers know the Feds and the NYPD cooperate about as well as hyenas and lions. You guys must be getting something out of it.”

“We think Griffin killed one of our witnesses,” she said. “We don’t stand for that.”

Bought us some coffees and she told me how things were going to work. This wasn’t a debate or a negotiation. This was give and take. She gave. I took. She talked. I shut up.

She’d already set us up in an apartment in Philadelphia over by the University of Pennsylvania. It wasn’t the greatest neighborhood, but it was one that would be within our means. We would tell the world that she worked as an administrative assistant in the bursar’s office. When we’d decided to move in together, she had gotten me a job with the university as a maintenance man and I’d had to undergo a few weeks of training before I could take the job.

“How’d we meet?” I snuck in a question as she inhaled.

“Don’t volunteer to explain, makes you look guilty. Anyone asks, and only if they ask, we met in a bar in Sheepshead Bay while I was visiting a girlfriend I went to Brooklyn College with. Don’t get more detailed than that. Anymore questions?”

“Will you marry me?”

Can’t imagine a bullet would have stunned her more. Her face went blank, but she recovered quickly. “Fuck off,” she said. “I’ll see you tonight.”

She kissed me again. This time, it was Leeza Velez kissing like the awkward twelve-year old.

Axel’s on Flatbush Avenue was Nicky’s idea. It was a neighborhood bar about as trendy as a heart attack. Don’t think they’d updated the place since that cocksucker O’Malley had moved the Dodgers. You had to hand it to Nicky; he wasn’t letting the first money, or, serious wedge, as Boyle might call it, affect him. He was just another Brooklyn asshole. Rage kept him grounded.

Had picked Velez up at the D train stop at Flatbush and Dekalb, kissed her when she got into the car. This time neither of us kissed like a child. We’d gotten past that one bit of awkwardness. Still, she was acting the part. Enjoyed the performance.

“Yes or no?” I asked.

“Yes or no what?”

“It’s only right, you know, when a guy proposes...”

She ignored that. “Tell me a story about you and Nick.”

“You must have a file—”

“No stories in the file.”

Told her about Vinny Podesta and stickball.

Leeza wasn’t Nick’s type. Well, to fuck maybe, but not to love. Had trouble picturing her not being anyone’s type. And not that I could wager on it, but I didn’t figure thieving boyos were exactly up her alley. Then why the fuck was I sick with jealousy at watching Leeza and Nick shoot a game of Eight Ball? For fuck’s sake, was this what pure rage was like? If it was, then God had put his finger on my shoulder. Knowledge was revealed.

Rage got me as high as I’d ever been. It was coke and crystal meth cooked until it turned black and thick as breakfast syrup. Excuse me, waiter, can I have some rage for my pancakes? Christ, I tell you I could have killed them both and myself in that brief second. Saw in that moment that I was both my mom and dad; so empty that I would kill for a woman who was in all ways but her kiss, a stranger; so full of pain I wanted to do it. Drank my Sam Adams instead. On the whole, a better idea.

“Watch out for that one,” Nicky said, coming back to the bar for another round.

My heart jumped into my throat, but I managed a question. “How so?”

“She loves you. Love’s trouble.”

My heart found its way back into my chest. Nick needed to stick to rage and hot wiring cars. Clearly, he was no expert on the subject of love.

“It’s a little late for that, Nicky.”

“You’re fucked.”

Didn’t I know it?

A devilish, crooked smiled cracked his face.

“What’s up with you?” I asked.

“You told her about how I kicked the shit outta Vinny P., huh?”

“Had to tell her something good about you and it was the only thing I could think of.”

“Nice.”

“I try.”

“You ever think about Vinny P.?” Nick wondered. “I do sometimes.”

“Probably in Elmira doing a ten-year bid and taking it up the ass for cigarette money.”

“Hope he knows smoking’s bad for his health.”

“Imagine what we’d be saying about him if we really didn’t like him.”

Nick patted my cheek. “Fuck Vinny Podesta! I’m gonna miss you, bro.”

“Me too.”

“Okay,” he said. “Time to get back there and get my ass kicked again by your girlfriend.”