Libra - Don Delillo [156]
The Times Herald called.
A stripper named Double DeLite called.
KLIF called.
Detective Russell Shively called.
His brother Earl called. He tried to talk Jack out of the twistboard idea. Jack wanted to manufacture an exercise device consisting of two fiberboards with some kind of ball-bearing disks between them and you stand on the boards and twist and shimmy, for fun and body tone both.
Tony Astorina walked in, doing a friendly little boxer’s bob and weave. It looked like all the motion he was capable of. He had that expression of where’s the coffee. Jack had coffee right here. They talked a little preliminaries. Tony was about forty but dressed young. His eyes were getting slitty inside the looming flesh. He said there was a place he had to be in forty-five minutes. He made it sound important. Jack did not want to hear this kind of remark. He wanted to believe Tony was involved in this conversation, not just passing by, passing time.
The barking in the back room was feeble and hoarse, like dogs in some Chinese village.
Then Tony said, “Loanshark is not our thing, Jack. There are people I can refer you,. But I wouldn’t be truthful if I said it could happen. These clubs, I don’t know, they’re shaky propositions.”
“The boys know me in four cities, five cities.”
“Your reputation is Jack Ruby is one tough Jew. To put it plain. He goes back to the unions.”
“Scrap Iron and Junk Handlers.”
“He did a lot of things you can give him credit.”
“I brawl too much. It’s this temperament where I lash out. I follow the theory you take the play away. You barrel in hard and fast before they even know they’re in a dispute. Ten seconds later I’m a baby.”
“But I’m making the point. The point isn’t temperamental. It’s a question of where’s the money coming from to pay back.”
“From business. From the clubs. Plus some ventures I’m planning in other vicinities. I’m saying you are close to Carmine.”
“Carmine. I can’t go to Carmine with something like this. Carmine has enormous, don’t even get me started—things going on you can’t believe. You think he does business all day long? He has an organization to do the business. The man is in conference. He has meets all the time. He’s running a country, Jack.”
“I’m saying you put a word in his ear. You plant an idea.”
“There’s so much stuff they put in front of him. Things from out of nowhere, I never heard of. Like I just found out about Kennedy and that woman. It went on two years. Mo talked to Carmine all the time.”
“What woman?”
“You know Mo?”
“Giancana.”
“Sam.”
“Giancana. ”
“For two years Kennedy is ramming this woman that’s Sam’s mistress. I don’t know the first thing. They do it in New York. They do it in L.A. They find like twenty minutes in Chicago, bing bang, when he’s there for a fund-raising.”
Jack was trying to draw himself a picture.
“And Carmine gets reports. She saw him here, she saw him there. He said this, he said that. Two years, Jack. They did it in the White House.”
Jack could not conceive of a situation whereby the President of the United States would be fucking the girlfriend of Momo Giancana. There had to be a mistake somewhere. This is a guy from the Patch in Chicago, from Dago Town, four or five blocks from where Jack grew up. Jack used to be personal friends with two of Mo’s enforcers. He’d been hearing Giancana’s name for decades. Since the days he was called Mooney. A wheelman for the 42 Gang. Fifty or sixty arrests. Time in Joliet. Time in Leavenworth. A powerful figure today. Chicago, Las Vegas, etc. But sharing a woman with the President? Jack knew it was going to be hard to swing the conversation back to a loan for a failing business.
Tony was still in his chair but only technically. There was an air of departure, a small restlessness that Jack could trace to his hands, like a smoker who quits.
“Jack, I come by here for old time.”
“We used to swim on the Capri roof.”
“I’m saying. I didn’t come by for the coffee.”
“Tony. I appreciate.”
“I come by because we go back together.”
“We got laid in adjoining rooms.”
“Havana, madonn’.”
“Tony, I have