Tony Partly Cloudy by Nick Rollins Read Free Book Online

It’s been too long.”
    “Absolutely,” Tony agreed. “Way too long.”

WHEN TONY GOT OUT OF HIS CLASSES ON THURSDAY, he went on a frantic shopping spree. Chips, pretzels, a couple of big bowls to pour them into, a few ashtrays – those were easy. Buying beer was tougher – at nineteen Tony was not of legal age. But he finally found a tiny all-night grocery store where a chain-smoking Korean clerk sold him a case of Miller High Life, perhaps intimidated by Tony’s size and bearing. When Tony got home he surveyed his purchases, laid out on his kitchen table in front of him. He tried to envision the night’s card game, and—
    Shit. Cards. He didn’t have any cards. Or any poker chips. Shit.
    Back outside he went. He found playing cards easily enough, a pack of cards backed by a photo of the Statue of Liberty, on display among a bunch of tourist souvenirs at a corner drugstore. But where the hell did you buy poker chips? Everybody he knew just had them – but who knew where they got them? He knew Frankie had some at home, but Tony didn’t have time to make the round trip to Brooklyn.
    Desperately he scoured the streets, sticking his head into every shop to inquire. To his amazement, he finally found the elusive item at the same little grocery where he’d bought the beer. In the months and years that followed, Tony was to learn that there was little that could not be found on the shelves of that tiny, cluttered store.
    “Thanks, man – you’re a lifesaver,” Tony told the clerk, who simply nodded and lit a new cigarette from his previous one. The guy smoked more than Frankie, Tony thought. Wonder if he’d figured out a way to smoke in his sleep?
    It was half past seven by the time Tony finally got home. He hurriedly straightened the apartment, a task made easier by its limited size. At eight o’clock on the nose, when he had just slumped onto his couch to catch his breath, there was a sharp rap on the door. Jimmy was right on time.
    This was it, thought Tony. The training wheels were coming off. He stood, took a deep breath, and walked up to the door. Looking through the peephole, he saw one man, made to look astonishingly huge by the peephole’s lens. Tony started to ask who was there, then thought better of it. He knew who was there. So he opened the door.
    It wasn’t Jimmy.
    It couldn’t be, because Jimmy wasn’t seven feet tall, and the man standing in Tony’s hallway was. It wasn’t just the peephole – this guy was huge.
    “Uh... can I help you?” Tony asked, looking up at the man, reflecting that he almost never needed to look up to see a man’s eyes. Okay, maybe the guy wasn’t seven feet, but he was six-eight, easy. And maybe four feet wide.
    “You Tony Bartolicotti?” the giant asked in a surprisingly high voice. He wore a black leather car coat for which many cows had given their lives.
    “Uh, yeah – that’s me,” Tony stammered, thinking Pops, what did you get me into?
    The giant turned his head slightly to one side and spoke, apparently to himself. “This is the guy.” Then he took a graceful step to his side. Behind him was standing a much smaller man, dapperly dressed in an overcoat open to reveal an elegant dark suit over a crisp white shirt, topped with a blood red silk necktie. Tony recognized him at once, having seen his photo in the papers and on television. Jimmy Carbone.
    “Tony Partly Cloudy!” the man said with a smile. “I love that name!” He held out his hand. “Call me Jimmy,” he commanded as they shook hands. The handshake went on far too long, Tony too dazed to remember to pull his hand away. Jimmy finally broke it off, saying, “So, can I come in, or what?”
    “Oh, yeah – sure,” Tony said, backing up. Jimmy breezed past him, while the giant made a point of looking up and down the hallway before entering the apartment and closing the door. Without asking Tony, the man locked the door’s three deadbolts, then turned and assumed a frozen stance in