Tony Partly Cloudy Read Free

What’s the big deal?”
    “All these forms – they ask a lot of questions. Some of it is stuff about money. You know, how much you make, how much your house is worth. Stuff like that.”
    “Well, the first part of that is easy,” Vinnie said, dabbing at his cheek with a napkin. Vinnie approached each meal like a hyena tearing at a carcass, and the results could get messy. “You and me both make the same: four bucks an hour. Christ, do you think we’ll ever get a raise? Mario’s been paying us the same for the last two, three years, am I right? Cheap freakin’ bastard.” The cheap freakin’ bastard Vinnie referred to employed both Tony and Vinnie in the kitchen of his Brooklyn restaurant.
    Tony said, “Vinnie, Mario pays us in cash. It’s under the table – it’s not getting reported, and we’re not paying taxes on it. You know about taxes, right?” Vinnie nodded his head, his mouth now too full to even attempt to speak.
    “Anyways, that’s not what the college wants to know. They want to know how much your parents make. That’s part of how they figure out who gets financial aid – you know, like scholarships and stuff. And I’m definitely gonna need financial aid to be able to afford to go.”
    “So you need to ask Frankie B how much money he makes.” Vinnie was starting to get it. But his casual use of Tony’s father’s name was teenage bravado – nobody under the age of 21 would ever address the man to his face as anything less formal than Mr. Bartolicotti or sir , not if they liked the way their teeth were currently arranged.
    “Bingo,” said Tony. “And I got a feeling that how much he makes and how much he says he makes when he pays his taxes – well, I kinda doubt those amounts are the same. And I also kinda doubt that he’s going to want some college snooping into his, you know, financial situation.”
    “Yeah, I see what you mean. That’s gonna go over like a turd in a punchbowl.”
    “That’s what I’m saying.”
    The boys brooded for a moment, focusing on their pizza. Then Vinnie said, “Does he even know you’re thinking about college?”
    “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve tried to bring it up, but when I do, he’s like, I never went to no freakin’ college, and look how good we’re living. ”
    Vinnie smiled at Tony’s spot-on impersonation of his father, while Tony went on. “It’s like he can’t imagine anything better than working for the moving line. And, you know, doing some stuff for the family business.”
    The family business was what they called it – nobody Tony knew called it the Mafia or the Mob. And definitely not the Outfit, like they called it in Vegas. Frankie B had always scoffed at that Vegas affectation, calling the Vegas families a bunch of suntanned pussies who watched too many Godfather movies.
    Vinnie shifted uncomfortably in the booth, taking a swig of his Coke to collect his thoughts before speaking. “You know, Tony, not for nothin’, but I gotta tell you, your old man does do okay for himself. He’s got a decent job, he maybe pulls down a little extra with the family business, but it ain’t nothin’ real bad – I mean, he’s not a made guy or nothing. What I’m saying, a guy could do worse, you know?”
    The boys looked at each other, both realizing the truth in Vinnie’s words. Frankie B did do okay for himself. And unspoken between the two boys was the knowledge that a career like Frankie’s was probably the most realistic aspiration for a guy like Vinnie. He was not what you would call college material.
    “Yeah, I know,” said Tony. “He’s done all right for himself – hell, for all of us. I can’t complain. It’s just...” Tony paused, struggling with the words. “I just wonder what it would be like if things were... I don’t know... different . I mean, I know I could do okay for myself just sticking around here. I could probably get my Class B license, and drive for the moving line. And my old man’s been hinting