Marilyn the Wild by Jerome Charyn Read Free Book Online

sleeves. A man no older than Isaac, with scars around the eyes from fights he’d had in the kitchens of Little Italy, he was concentrating on his game of dominoes.
    Isaac resolved not to break the silence at the Garibaldi club. He would outlast dominoes, cappuccino mugs, Amerigo’s hatred for him. But the whistling heat off the radiators clung to Isaac, attacking the skin behind his ears. The redness of Amerigo’s shirt turned bitter in Isaac’s mouth, and he could taste the dry surface of the dominoes. “You want a coffee, Isaac?”
    â€œNo.”
    Amerigo brought two mugs down from the shelves. Slyly, without a crease in his nostrils, Isaac watched the coffee-making. The machine shivered with a sucking noise as Amerigo steamed the milk. He cranked the lever, and coffee poured from two metal fangs.
    â€œIt hurts me to have a sullen man in my club. Stay out if you can’t smile.”
    He pushed one of the mugs at Isaac. The Chief stared at the bubbles in the milk. “Bite my fist, landlord, but don’t you ever go near my mother again. I’ll kill you so slow, your brains will leak into your ear before you have the chance to die.”
    â€œIsaac, I fuck you where you breathe. If I wanted your mother, I wouldn’t have messed up the job.”
    The Garibaldis fingered their dominoes while Isaac and Amerigo grimaced at one another near the cappuccino mugs.
    â€œTell me you haven’t been hiring goons off the street.”
    â€œSure I’m hiring. You think your mother was the only casualty? The little bastards come into my precincts, slap Mrs. Pasquino over the head, demolish her bakery, and run home to Jewtown so they can eat their kosher baloney. Isaac, I’ll break their feet.”
    â€œAmerigo, are you saying it’s a gang of rabbinical students? A Jewish karate club? Take a walk for yourself.”
    â€œTwo of them are Yids, definitely. A boy and a girl. The last one’s some kind of nigger. If he’s not a spade, then he’s a Turk or a Jap. Isaac, it’s gotta be.”
    Isaac dug his jaw into the cappuccino mug. He licked the coffee, his throat purring at the taste of browned milk. “Amerigo, I’ll handle these lollipops. Call off your goons.”
    â€œImpossible. Isaac, why argue? We’re both soldiers. You have your precincts, I have mine. How’s your daughter? Did she make a good marriage this time?”
    â€œShe’s okay,” Isaac said, with coffee in his teeth. “She has an architect.” Could he tell the landlord that Marilyn was running wild? That she was on the loose with lollipops stalking the streets?
    â€œAnd your brother Leo, is he out of his troubles yet?”
    â€œLeo’s doing fine.”
    The coffee oozed through Isaac’s system, causing the skin on his knees to curl, and whishing into the pockets around his eyes. Isaac would have sold his daughter for a second cappuccino. The Garibaldis had him in their grip.
    â€œIsaac, I hear your boyfriend has his own pillow at Headquarters. Now he doesn’t have to snore in the Commissioner’s lap.”
    â€œLandlord, I can’t count all my boyfriends. Identify him for me.”
    â€œNewgate.”
    â€œJesus,” Isaac said, coming out of his coffee lull. “How can Newgate hurt you? He’d drown in the puddles if the PC didn’t hold his hand.”
    â€œIsaac, he gives me a bad name. He frightens young Italian mothers with his ugly eyes. The mothers say Newgate’s a witch. They could have deformed babies, and I’ll get the blame. What’s he got against the Italian race? Does he think Sicily was the devil’s country? Half my buildings have busted toilets. I’m swimming in shit with my plumber’s boots, and that schmuck talks about organized crime?”
    â€œComplain to Cowboy, not me. Cowboy’s the one who loves the FBI’s.” Isaac sucked at the bottom of the mug with the