Chapter 13
Mickey’s anxiety shot up like the temperature in Phoenix in July. He downed his fourth beer without so much as a single swallow. Then, he signaled Gus for another one. Twenty seconds later, Mickey’s hand went out and snagged the sliding mug of beer.
“You got good hands Mickey,” said Tony Gallino who was now close to the boys.
“I think I coulda made the Sox if I had a tryout. I had ta work the day I could have tried out,” said Mickey.
“Are those the hands that are taking care of my package?” asked Tony Gallino.
Zeke jumped in before Mickey could say a word. Zeke said, “Mickey’s the All State man. The package is safe with us. It’s safer than if it was in Fort Knox.”
“You boys didn’t open it, did you? If you did, I’d be very, very angry,” said Tony Gallino.
“Us?” said Zeke pointing an index finger to his chest.
“Yes, you two guys,” said Tony Gallino.
“The only interest we got in the package is to take care of it for you, until you tell us you want it,” said Zeke.
Mickey added, “Nice threads, Tony. I was thinking of going to Walmart and getting me threads like these.”
Gus almost dropped the mug he was washing.
Tony Gallino turned to the six foot two inch thug on his left. The thug wore a Miami Beach sport shirt with one hundred-fifty palm trees gracing his athletic, extra-large version. “Did you hear what I heard?”
“I heard what use heard, Mr. Gallino. Use want me to send this dog to the corner?”
Zeke cut in, “Mickey didn’t mean any offense, Tony. He’s never been out of town if you don’t count Brockton. The only place he buys his clothes is Goodwill. Walmart is a step up for him.”
Tony Gallino stared at Mickey who was staring into his empty beer mug, “He’s a Palitroni. I don’t trust Palitroni’s. Never trusted them since Beanie Palitroni tried to make a federal case against me saying I would do something like intimidate anybody. Now, can you believe that I would ever intimidate a baby?”
“Never. You would never intimidate a baby, Tony. Why would Beanie think that about you?” asked Zeke.
Tony Gallino reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out an index card. He handed it to Zeke, “See, that’s what I’m saying. I want you to bring the package to this mailbox tomorrow. It is a different mailbox. This one is up in Stoughton, off 138. You can’t miss it. Here’s another fifty bucks apiece. Call it for gas mileage.”
“Do we have to report it on our income tax?” asked Mickey.
Tony Gallino turned to his other thug, a shorter version of the first one. This one wearing an Under Armor short sleeve compression shirt. “You see what I mean about the Palitroni’s? You can’t trust them and their whole IQ is less than my Yorkie.”
“Want me to teach him a lesson, Mr. Gallino?” asked the second thug.
“He’s a Palitroni, I wouldn’t throw them left over pasta. Know what I mean?”
“Perfectly, “Mr. Gallino.
“I want this done by two tomorrow afternoon, boys. By the way, say hello to Nonna for me,” said Tony Gallino as he turned and walked out of Lombardi’s.
“Geez, what are we going to do, Zeke?” asked Mickey.
Gus scooted down the bar, bent over and whispered, “I don’t want to know about the package, but I know you two boys and you are in over your heads.”
“How did you know, Gus?” asked Mickey.
What are the boys going to do? Will Nonna give them the package? Does Tony Gallino know Nonna has the package?