1gQ4hRW

this with me, baby cheeks.” I give him a little jerk and his whole
body, stringy and limp, sways under my grip.
“Get your hands off me!” He stares at me all tough and I
feel sorry for him. “You know who I am”
“Tough guy, huh” I loosen my grip on his shirt. “Get back
to work.”
“Go to hell!” He flings my arm off. “Touch me again and
you better learn to dodge bullets, you dumb Irish prick.” He kicks
over a trash can, spilling garbage on street, and walks off to the
cabin. I see him climb the steps and disappear inside. I’m now
alone with Skip, and he looks uneasy.
“Look, Buff,” he exhales deep. “You better lay off this kid.”
“What” I say. “All this time me and you ride together and
you take his side”
“It aint about that,” he says quietly and checks around like
someone is listening in. “You know how he is always going on
about his uncle”
“So”
“The Kid’s last name. Corallo” He leans close to me. “The
Kid is all mobbed up. How do you think he got the morning shift
only a week on the job”
“I don’t get it.”
“You don’t read the papers much, do you” Skip looks
around again. “His uncle is Anthony Corallo. The Lucchese crime
boss. You know, Tony Ducks You know why they call him that
Because he ducks all the charges.”
“So then what’s his nephew doing picking up trash” I say.
“Shouldn’t he be walking around with pinstripes and a handkerchief”
“I guess he is trying to break the Kid in,” Skip says.
“Break him in” I say. “For what”
“I’m sorry, Buff,” he breathes heavy again. “But it’s true.
His uncle must be making some kind of move. Next year
our routes are going private.”
Skip is untouchable—on his way out with a full pension.
But if the routes are now up for grabs, my own job is on the block.
February 2014 25