Sally Boy Read Free Page A

a maraca. Raising the drink to her
lips, she took a long sip. “Everything’s okay. You better go, but
thanks anyway,” she replied softly, flashing a nervous smile.
    “Awright, have a good night.” Sal smiled and
turned to walk away.
    Whack! Again, the man bashed her across the
face. “I didn’t fucking tell you to speak, cunt!”
    Spinning back around, Sal bitch-slapped the
man across his face, almost knocking him off his stool. “Hurts,
don’t it, scumbag?”
    “Fuck you!” the man shrieked in a
high-pitched voice and pulled his pistol.
    Sal pounced on the hand clutching the
weapon. Using his overpowering strength, Sal turned the pistol
toward his adversary and forced the barrel down against his
genitals. “No, fuck you!” Sal snarled.
    Slipping his finger over the man’s, Sal
pulled the trigger. The once-proud stallion, now a gelding, flew
off his bar stool and crashed to the floor. The man just laid
there, blood already flowing.
    The thunderous beat of the music masked the
sound of the shot, rendering it barely audible, but the ruckus at
the bar created a ripple of concern. Security personnel disbursed
in an attempt to ascertain the situation. The D.J. was ordered to
lower the music, and the people on the dance floor slowed and then
stopped dancing entirely. The pretentious laughter and excessive
chatter of the socializing drunks ceased and the club became eerily
quiet. No one was really sure what had happened, but all heads
turned, and every eye was now focused on the bar area.
    Knowing it was just a matter of seconds
before the inevitable stampede to the exits, Sal reached into his
pocket and pulled out a roll of big bills. Placing the wad of money
into the girl’s trembling hand, he closed her fingers tightly
around the cash.
    “Grab a cab and go home now!” Sal whispered
commandingly into the girl’s ear and then urgently nudged her
toward the door.
    Like a frightened rabbit, she took off
running and collided with a passing waitress carrying a tray full
of drinks. The tray flew into the air then crashed to the floor.
The sound of bursting glass reverberated like a minor explosion
throughout the silence of the club. Looking down, the waitress saw
the gruesome mess on the floor. Shocked, she unleashed a
blood-curdling scream igniting a panic.
    People bolted from the dance floor toward
the nearest exits. Their panicked shrieks and shouts only created
more hysteria. Fleeing guests overturned tables, chairs were thrown
about and several women were trampled in the mad rush. Deftly
dodging frenzied patrons trying to escape the premises, Sal arrived
back at his table.
    Blinking even faster than usual, Joey sat
up. “You couldn’t just let it alone, could you Sal?”
    Sal’s eyes shined like a child’s on
Christmas morning. “He pulled on me, asshole. What the fuck did you
expect me to do?”
    Jimmy almost managed a grin, but thwarted
the impulse. “You done good, Sally Boy. Let’s get the fuck outta
here.”
    The men made their way through the chaos
surrounding them toward the back door. As they walked, Sal was
reminded of a story his father had shared with him when he was just
a boy. Although it was many years ago, Sal remembered the day well.
It was a hot summer afternoon and Peter Scalise had purchased two
vanilla cones with colored sprinkles from a Mister Softee truck
that worked the neighborhood.
    The two sat on their front stoop enjoying
their treat while Peter explained this anecdote in Italian to his
naïve nine-year-old son. “One cold winter day, this big gust of
wind came along and blew this little bird right out of its nest.
This cow saw the baby bird shivering on the ground and she knew
that the little guy was gonna die unless she did something quick.
So the cow thought for minute and decided the best way to save the
bird was to take a shit on him. You know, to keep the little guy
warm, so he didn’t freeze to death.
    “Anyways, the bird didn’t realize it was for
his own good and he