Bone in the Throat - Anthony Bourdain [69]
"Anything you tell them is bad," said Tommy.
"I'm sorry, Tommy. I'm really, really sorry."
"It's alright. It's alright. It's not your fault."
"So this guy Al, he's giving me a really hard time. He's got my balls in the fuckin' vise. He says he's gonna throw me in fuckin' jail I don't talk to you. He was gonna throw my case back to the cops. Just when I got off dope. Just when I was beginning to see a little fuckin' light at the end of the tunnel. Tommy, he says you're involved in this thing. He says if I don't get you to come in and talk to them, he was gonna throw me back in it. He said everybody would find out about the dope. I'd never work after that, he said. He meant it. People be saying, maybe I got AIDS or some shit, they don't want me cookin' their food. He says you don't talk to them, they're gonna throw you in jail. They'll come and drag you off to the grand jury or something and make you testify and if you don't do that, they're gonna put you in prison. Not some tennis camp. Attica, some place like that."
"Fuck them," said Tommy.
"He said your uncle'll probably kill you," said the chef.
"They don't know shit about shit," said Tommy.
"Tommy, he said they'll call you before the grand jury. That could happen. He says you know something, Tommy."
"I don't know anything I want to tell them," said Tommy.
"Tommy, you're not a fuckin' wise guy, right? You don't want that. I'm right about that, right? Maybe you saw something, you did somebody a favor one time. I don't know. But why does it have to be you who goes to jail? Why you?"
"They want me to rat on my uncle," said Tommy.
"So you know something," said the chef.
Tommy was silent.
"Okay," said the chef. "Don't tell me. What I mean is, you didn't do anything. Not really. I told them that, that you wouldn't. You didn't do anything yourself. I'm right about that, right Tommy?"
"They want me to rat on my uncle for something. That's what this is. They want me to help them put my mother's brother in jail."
"But, you do know something? They think you know something. They say they know you know something. They wouldn't be doin' all this shit otherwise, right? This guy, Al, he wasn't kidding. He's fuckin' serious. They're really going to do what he said."
"Shit," said Tommy. He stopped walking, sat down on the stoop of an empty storefront, and put his head in his hands.
"I saw them do it," he said.
"Oh, shit," said the chef. "Don't tell me that. Don't say that."
"I saw them kill a guy," said Tommy.
"Don't be fucking saying that! What guy? Where? How'd you get yourself—"
"They killed a guy right in the kitchen," said Tommy.
"I don't want to know this," said the chef. "I don't want to know this . . . MY KITCHEN??!! They killed a guy in MY kitchen?"
"I didn't know it was gonna happen till it happened. They told me they were just gonna like talk to this guy," Tommy said, speaking to the sidewalk.
"So, it's not like it's your fault or anything. You didn't know. You didn't know anything," said the chef, hopefully.
"They whacked a guy out right in front of me, for Chrissakes. They chopped the guy up right there on the dishwasher."
"You saw them do it?" said the chef, incredulously.
"I saw them kill the guy. I didn't see them cut him up. I was in the office then. They made me clean up after."
"Oh, shit. . . Tommy, Tommy . . . What are we gonna do? We're fucked," said the chef.
"I don't know. I don't know."
"What am I gonna tell them now? I can't tell them this. What am I gonna say?" Tommy didn't respond; he remained sitting, head in his hands, staring at the pavement. "What are you gonna do?" said the chef. "You saw it. You saw it happen. Your uncle's gonna kill you."
"I could go to this guy I know. He's like Sally's boss. He likes me. He could get me a lawyer. Maybe he could help," said Tommy.
"How's that gonna help? You trust these guys?"
"I don't know, alright? I don't know."
"What do I tell this guy Al? What do I say to him now? I can't tell him this shit," said the chef.
"I gotta think," said Tommy.
"If you