Small Mercies by Eddie Joyce Read Free Book Online Page A

notions about maybe taking his brother’s place. Never stated, of course. Just a sense. But Franky’s darker thoughts have a way of making themselves heard.
    Not tonight. She will not worry about this tonight.
    “I’m sorry, but can we talk about something else.”
    “Of course . . . tell me about your friend’s affair.”
    She gives him the condensed version of Stephanie’s story: the Jets game, the hairs in the sink, Stephanie screwing Tommy Valenti. Wade listens to the whole story before rendering his verdict. He doesn’t interrupt like Bobby would have, peppering the story with exclamations of “No shit” or “Get the fuck outta here.” She can’t help herself; she catalogs their differences.
    “Well, you can’t argue with her logic.
Who
does shave to go to a football game?”
    “She’s crazy, but I’m guessing she’s not wrong. Vinny’s a scumbag.”
    She feels self-conscious, a little coarse, a little Staten Island, using that word. She reminds herself that Wade is a grown man who has certainly heard worse, no matter what kind of jacket he wears.
    “He used to work on the floor of the stock exchange. He was a specialist; I think that’s what they were called.”
    “Oh, Stephanie is married to
that
Vinny. The specialist.”
    “Yeah. How did you know that?”
    “I remember Peter telling me about it. How some guy he knew from Staten Island got jammed up in the specialist investigation and he had to get him a lawyer.”
    “Yeah, Petey was too concerned with his own image to take the case himself. Can’t have the gindaloons from Staten Island roaming the halls at his precious law firm.”
    Wade grimaces.
    “I’m sorry, I know he’s your friend.”
    “It’s okay. In fairness, though, it’s really not the sort of work he does. I don’t think he handles that kind of criminal stuff. Not for individuals anyway. And on top of that, it was probably best for Vinny to get a lawyer he didn’t know.”
    That’s what Peter told Stephanie, but Tina always thought it was bullshit. An excuse not to deal with Vinny.
    “How’s Vinny doing? Peter told me he didn’t end up getting indicted.”
    “No, he didn’t, but there was another trial. The SEC, maybe? The whole thing ended up costing them a bundle. Vinny’s not even working now. I think he just day-trades.”
    “I’m sure. Those guys had the rug pulled out from under them. There’s nothing left down there. They don’t need the Vinnys of the world anymore. All the exchanges, it’s the same thing.”
    Wade sounds wistful. He has a way of talking that makes Tina feel secure, as if she’s in the hands of someone who has things sussed out. Who knows which path the world is going down and has prepared himself. He doesn’t have Bobby’s hard-charging physicality. His masculinity is more subtle, but he can protect and provide.
    That’s what Tina really meant earlier when she told Stephanie he was different. She doesn’t think of Bobby every time she looks at Wade. The few other guys she dated or considered dating—the city workers and the union members, the business owners and the blue collar drinkers, all the Staten Island boys who lived their entire lives on a slab of land large enough that they forget it’s an island—all those guys, they were just bad copies of Bobby. Inadequate copies. He was the absolute best possible version of that man, the absolute best. To try to love some lesser version of him would be the greatest insult to his memory she could imagine. If she wanted to feel love (and she was still young and wanted to love and be loved in return), she needed to meet someone who didn’t feel like a cheap imitation of her dead husband.
    But how do you do that when all you meet is thirty tiny variations on the same theme? The same bodies sustained by pasta and bread and meat; thick of neck; firemen and cops and sanitation workers, and the occasional accountant or lawyer thrown in for good measure; Italian or Irish or maybe