Bad Luck Read Free Page A

were making good money with gambling and girls, and they were doing all right with the garbage trucks too—but then one thing after another happened. One guyneeded money for this, another guy needed money for that, Mistretta’s daughter wants a new house, his wife wants a condo in Florida, then his nephew wants to buy into an auto mall, then the bail money for everybody and his uncle, and the next thing you know, there’s no money for what Sal wants. The three concrete plants are still up for grabs, but all he’s got is about thirty mil to work with. Personally he could come up with another two himself, but what the hell’s that? Nothing. Enough for one of the concrete plants maybe. But you’ve gotta have all three or it’s no good. You won’t have the control otherwise. Well, fuck it. Mistretta gets out at the end of the month and then it’s his problem, thank God. Better to go back to running the crew again. Just be a captain, worry about your own guys. The concrete thing would’ve been nice, but it’s too late now. Just get Mistretta his goddamn money and keep him happy. That’s all that’s important now.
    Sal glanced up at Nashe who was waiting for an answer like a dog waiting for dinner. Fucking jerk. Yeah, he could smile. Joseph too. They weren’t gonna be the ones to tell Mistretta that he didn’t have the money yet. No, that wasn’t gonna be their job. Even if he broke both of Nashe’s legs right now, he’d be getting off easy by comparison. Mistretta did not like to be disappointed. Sal remembered what Mistretta did to Tommy Ricks, and a pain shot through his gut so bad he nearly doubled over.
    Nashe suddenly put his hands up as if he were being robbed, except he was still grinning with those big stupid teeth of his. “Sal, I give up. Just tell me what you want. I can accommodate you. We can work something out. Just talk to me.”
    Joseph stood up, mustache twitching, eyebrows squiggling all over his forehead. “Hey, I already told you. You don’t talk to my brother. He’s a very sick man. He doesn’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I’m the one you talk to—”
    Sal stopped rocking then, raising the hand with the rubber ball and waving his brother off. Enough! They had tohave that money and they had to have it soon. Joseph wasn’t gonna get it out of Nashe. It was time for Sal to speak for himself. No sense playing dumb with Nashe. Bugs Bunny knows the score.
    â€œListen to me, Russ,” Sal started, then cleared his throat.
    â€œSal! Whattaya doin’?”
    â€œDon’t worry about it, Joseph.” Sal pointed his finger at Nashe as he turned back to him. “Let me tell you something, Russ. When I want something I pay for it. I just pay for it. No credit cards, no leveraging, no junk bonds, no fancy mortgage arrangements. I pay cash. That’s all there is to it. Now, five years ago you wanted something from us, the land on the boardwalk, and so we leased it to you. You drew up the conditions, we didn’t. Now, according to those conditions, it’s time to pay. So naturally we expect you to live up to your promise and pay up. That’s not unreasonable, is it?”
    â€œNo, of course not, Sal. But by the same token you’re not appreciating my point of view here.” Nashe was on the edge of the stool, hovering over him, still grinning that stupid rabbit grin.
    Sal looked at the floor and shook his head as he switched the rubber ball to his left hand and made a fist with his right. He had to make Nashe “appreciate” his point of view.
    â€œYou see, Sal, I can make it worth your while if you—”
    Sal’s fist shot up like an erupting volcano, a solid upper-cut to the middle of Nashe’s chest that knocked the Golden Boy off his stool and back over the drafting table. He crashed to the floor on his shoulder, the blueprints crushed