The Fortunate Pilgrim - Mario Puzo [45]
Vinnie was impressed and watched Job intently. Gino was outraged and asked, “Did he really mean it? Or was he afraid he was gonna get killed?”
“Sure he meant it,” Job said. “And then God gave him a lot of good luck to make up for it because he believed. My father says that Job was the first Literal Baptist. That’s why the Literal Baptists get saved when the world ends and everybody who doesn’t listen to us is gonna get buried for a million years. Or even more. You two had just better stop playing cards and swearing.”
But since he was just a nutty little kid, Gino riffled the cards, humping them and letting them cascade into place. Job watched, fascinated by such expertness. Gino looked at him and said, “You wanta try it?” He thrust the deck into Job’s hands. Job tried to riffle the cards and they scattered across the floor. He picked them up and tried again, his face intent and serious. Suddenly an enormous shadow spread across the room. Mrs. Colucci was watching them; they had not heard her come down the corridor of bedrooms.
Vinnie and Gino were fascinated by her beauty. They stared. She was looking her son up and down very coolly, with one eyebrow raised.
Job stuttered, “Mother, I wasn’t playing, Gino was just showing me how to shuffle. I just watched them play.”
Gino said warmly, “He ain’t lying, Mrs. Colucci, he just watched. You know,” he said with enormous wonder, “he wouldn’t play no matter what I said.”
Mrs. Colucci smiled and said, “I know my son never lies to me, Gino. But touching cards is a beginning. His father will be very angry with him.”
Gino smiled at her confidentially. “You don’t have to tell his father.”
Mrs. Colucci said coldly, “Of course I won’t tell him. But Job certainly will.” Gino was surprised and looked at Job questioningly. Mrs. Colucci said in a more gentle voice, “Mr. Colucci is the head of our house, as God rules over the world. You wouldn’t keep secrets from God, would you, Gino?” Gino looked at her thoughtfully.
Vinnie was angrily shuffling cards. He was mad at Gino for not seeing through these people, for acting as if they liked him, being fooled by their good manners. On Mrs. Colucci’s beautiful face he had seen a look of disgust at their playing cards, as though she had caught them in something shameful that you never talked about. “Stop butting in, Gino,” he said. He dealt out a hand.
Gino, intrigued by something he could not understand, said to Job, “You gonna tell your father? No kidding? If you don’t tell him, your mother won’t tell. Right, Mrs. Colucci?” The look of physical disgust came over the woman’s face, but she said nothing.
Job didn’t answer, but tears came out of his eyes. Gino was stunned. He said, “I’ll tell your father I pushed the cards into your hands. That’s what I did. Right, Vin? Come on, I’ll tell him.”
Mrs. Colucci said sharply, “His father will believe everything Job tells him. Good night, children. Say good night to your friends, Job.” Job said nothing, and they both went down the corridor to the kitchen.
The two brothers had no heart for more cards. Gino went to one window, opened it, and sat on the sill. Vincent went to the other window and did the same.
The railroad yard was dark except for a headlight of one working, black, invisible engine, grinding steel on steel. Even the Hudson River was almost blue-black beneath the faint autumn moon, and the cliffs of the Palisades were shadowy mountains beyond. Tenth Avenue below the window was dark and still, swept clean of smells and people by a cold October night wind. Only on the corner of 31st Street was there life, a bonfire with some half-grown boys around it.
Gino and Vincent saw their father come out of the building with the Coluccis. He was walking them