South Deering

Chapter 9

As I turned the corner at 109th Street, I thought, “It’s been three days now, and although I haven’t stopped thinking about Molly, I’m feeling good about myself. I won’t get hurt this time, she’ll be gone, and things will return to normal again.”

I know all about getting hurt and caring about someone who doesn’t feel the same. It’s happened quite a few times before.

Halfway down Torrence Avenue, I noticed Mike’s car parked in front of Rollie’s. As I approached, he got out and met me at the curb.

“Hey, Mike.” I smiled.

“Where the f**k have you been? Nobody has seen you since last Friday.”

“I’ve been feeling a little down since last Sunday.”

“Things didn’t go well with Molly?”

“Mike, can you stick around for a while? I have to see Rollie, then we can talk, okay?”

“Okay,” Mike said, “I’ll be out back.”

Rollie came around the counter, unlocked the door, and ushered me inside.

“What’s up, Rollie?”

“Same old s**t, Flacco? Next, you lock the front door and turn off the sign.” Walking behind the counter, Rollie opened the register, took out the drawer, turned, and said: “If there are any big bills, they’ll be underneath. Take the drawer back to my bedroom and open the closet.”

As we walked into the bedroom, Rollie reached, flicked on the light switch, and opened the closet door. I followed him in and watched as he opened the locked cabinet in the wall. He called me over and showed me where to put the drawer and the two guns on the lower shelf. One looked like a 45 caliber automatic, the other a snub-nosed revolver.

“Only two people will have a key, me and you. I trust you, Flacco. I only hope you never have to use either of them. They are both loaded, so be careful when you handle them, okay?” Taking the extra key from his key ring, he handed it to me, saying, “You’re one of the older guys, so I trust that you’ll always do the right thing.”

We finally sat down across from each other at the little dinette set. I lit up one of my Salems. He had his cigar.

“Well,” Rollie said, handing me a slip of paper. “That’s my phone number at home, don’t give it to anyone, but call me if you need anything.”

“Yeah, sure, Rollie,” I said, and with that, we both stood up and shook hands.

“We’ll talk about the money later, okay?”

“Whatever you say, Rollie.”

“If you guys want some beer, you’ll have to stock up the fridge, just don’t drink out in front. Lastly, there’s a spare key for the front door under the register. Take it with you. That’s about it,” he said. “You can start Saturday, okay?”

“Okay,” I said. “Mike’s waiting for me in the back.”

Mike was sitting on the stairs when I walked out the back door. I had two beers, which I took out of the fridge, offered him one, and sat down beside him.

He looked apprehensive and nervous, taking deep drags on his cigarette.

“What’s up?” I said, trying to sound cheerful, hoping to put him at ease.

“I got some news last night, and I don’t know what to do or who I can talk to.”

“You know you can always talk to me. Now, what’s up?”

“Joyce’s pregnant!” he blurted out.

“Wow!” I said. “How far is she?”

“About six weeks, give or take. Her father told her either to get married or leave the house.”

“What do you wanna do?”

“I always knew we’d get married, but I don’t know if I’m ready right now.”

“I’m sure everything will work out, and you know I’m here for you. If there’s anything you need from me, it’s yours.”

“Thanks,” Mike said already with a look of confidence. “Just two things, though,” he said, smiling a little.

“Shoot,” I smiled back.

“First, I want you to be my best man, and second, if you could ask around and maybe get me in your department at work.”

“Done,” I said. “But why?”

“Can’t work nights. Joyce’s afraid to be alone at night.”

“Okay, then, I’ll see what I can do.”

“You’re the best,” Mike said. “I’m gonna go tell Joyce the news.”

We finished our beers and walked through the gangway to the front.

After a hug and handshake, Mike left. I turned and walked home, needing food and thinking about what had just happened.