The Bobby Gold stories - Anthony Bourdain [15]
Bobby noticed with dismay the twelve-guage Ithica shotgun leaning against the side of the chair. Fortunately, Lenny seemed to be making no attempt to reach for it.
" LT . . . LT, can't believe it," said Bobby.
"Right."
"I'll be dipped in shit!"
"Come on in. Siddown, have a beer."
Bobby crossed the room, stepping over the crushed cans, the Styrofoam containers. A TV flickered silently in the corner, two chubby lesbians going at it with a bright orange dildo on a shag rug on the screen.
"So," said Lenny, when Bobby was sitting down on a rickety lawn chair by a beer-can-covered card table. "You got business with little brother? Or you got business with me?"
Bobby thought he heard snoring, looked over against the right wall and saw a black woman sleeping on a bare mattress. She looked pregnant.
"My old lady," said Lenny. "I got a kid too. In the next room. He's got the asthma. Got him hooked up to one a those machines. Try not to wake him."
"I guess I got business with you," said Bobby, grabbing a warm beer from a half-emptied six-pack on the card table. "LT. I can't believe it . . ."
"Bad Bobby comes calling. After all this time . . . Who would a thought. Made nice work of little brother too. You look good. You keeping in shape."
Bobby just shrugged. He was uncomfortable with the situation. LT had been the head of AB at Greenhaven when Bobby had been up there. He'd taken the then gangly and dangerously unprotected young Bobby under his wing, assigning other gang members to look after him. They'd become buddies, playing chess in the day room, exercising together in the yard, talking about history — particularly military history — the fact that LT was essentially a Nazi, and Bobby a Jew, adding a certain playful nature to their relationship.
"So, what's the problem? And who do I got a problem with?" said Lenny.
"Eddie Fish has a problem," said Bobby. "Something about a carburetor you sold him."
Lenny threw his head back and started to wheeze with laughter, his whole body shaking.
"THAT asshole? You comin' all the way out here — the middle of the fuckin' night — chop down my bro' like a freakin' tree - over a fuckin' carburetor? Oh, Bobby. I thought things was gonna be different for you when you got out. We all thought you was gonna go back to school. End up a lawyer or somethin'. Aww, Jesuss. I'm sorry to hear this."
"I'm not too thrilled with how things worked out either," said Bobby, his ears burning. Pity from a 350-pound white supremacist car thief not going down well.
"Let me clue you in, here, Bobby. That little shit comes out here with that fuckin' Jag a his. Says he wants a deal on a new carb. I says I got a new carb right in the back. Cocksucker doesn't want to pay for it. You know who I am? He says. You know who I'm with? Now lissen, Bobby, you know me. I don't give a fuck who he's with . . . I'm with some people too — and when they come by my shop? They talk nice to me. I ain't nobody's nigger, right, Bobby? So shithead tells me how much he wants to pay — which is not much. I couldn't get a used carb out of a fuckin' Ford for what he's offerin'. So I tell the kid I got to clout me one out of this nice XJ I happen to know about. Thing's a year old. Practically new. I give it to this Fish asshole at fuckin' cost. This kid I got working for me? He's used to taking cars, Bobby. To order. The whole fuckin' car. Not rootin' around under the fuckin' hood like some kid who's just beggin' to get grabbed. I made a couple a calls to some people and asked about this Eddie fuckin' Fish that's supposed to be such a big shot? And you know what they told me? 'Fuck him.' Do what you can. But don't bend over backwards, you know what I mean? I did the right thing." Lenny took a long draught of beer and shook his head. "What are you doing hanging around with that fuck, Bobby? From what I hear? He's gonna get fuckin' clipped any day now. The people he thinks