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    2263 001

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    richardleh

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    EDWARD FALCO The Artist JIM HAD the rearview mirror tilted so that he could see into the ‘backseat, where Alice, his two-year-old daughter, appeared and dis- appeared and reappeared out of the darkness as the car passed under streetlight after streetlight. He had been driving for more than an hour, trying to get her to sleep, and her eyes were still ‘open. He located the dimmer control for the dashboard lights and increased the brightness just slightly, so that he could read the time “Daddy,” Alice said dreamily, “is tthe fairy place?” “Not yet,” Jim answered. It was almost nine. He dimmed the lights. “Ifyou close your eyes, we'll get there faster.” ‘lice closed her eyes, which surprised him. She was usually harder to fool than that, A moment later she was sleeping. Each time the light swept over her, she seemed to sink deeper into the car seat, her shoulder- length brown hair blending with the seat’s brown padded leather. Jim straightened ont the mirror and rurned the car around. When he drove Alice to sleep, he rarely traveled more than a few minutes’ distance from his house, so that he wouldn't have to waste time driving back once she was out. He was efficient. At forty-six, he was father to three children, all under ten; husband to a doctor; owner of an advertising firm; and, finally, an artist, a video artist, creating pieces that were thought of by some as “experimental” films. He didn’t think of them as films, and he didn’t think of them as experi- ments — but he sometimes used the term himself. A set of spotlights came on automatically as he pulled into his driveway. He parked the car, lifted Alice from her seat, and carried EDWARD FALCO 285, her up a sloping walk surrounded by flower boxes thick with blos- soming azaleas. The polished mahogany door at the front of the house was open to let in the early.summer evening breezes. Jim opened the screen door and stepped into a house so quiet it su prised him. Jake, his fourmonth-old, would be asleep by now, but Melissa, the nine-year-old, should have been up and around. And he didn’t hear his wife, Laura, on the phone or running the dish- washer or doing something somewhere, as he would have expected. The house was just plain quiet which almost never happened. He cartied Alice up a short flight of stairs into the living room and noticed Melisss sneakers and socks on the rug next to the baby: grand. If he hadn't been afraid of waking Alice, he would have called out for Laura or Melissa. Instcad he continued on silently toward the back of the house. He found his wife and daughter in the kitchen, siting at the table with a man who looked to be in his fifties. He had hair down to the middle of his back, pulled into a braid, He wore multiple earrings and a gold nose ring. Where the top two buttors of his shirt were open, Jim could see the bright colors of a tattoo, From the way the three of them sat staring up at hhim, with grins on their faces, Jim guessed that he was supposed to recognize the stranger. At first he didn’t. Then, litde by litde, he saw the boyish face of Tony Diehl compose itself within the weathered face of the stranger. “Tony?” ‘Tony touched his chest with his fingertips. “Who else, man?” He stood and opened his arms, offering Jim an embrace. Laura said, "He came just a few minutes after you took off with Alice.” Before dinner she had gone jogging while Jim watched the kids, and she was still wearing her skinight spandex outfit. She looked good. Sie was five years younger than Jim —and she looked younger than that. Melissa said, “He's been telling us stories about you, Dad, when, you were young." Laura got up to take Alice from Jim. “Your father's stil a young “Oh please,” Melissa said. “Forty-six is hardly young.” Jim handed Alice to Laura. He asked Tony, “How'd you find me?” Tony grabbed Jim's hand, shook it once, and then pulled him close and wrapped his arms around him. He stepped back and looked him over, “Christ, man,” he said, “Twenty? Twentyfive years?” 286 The Artist Jim looked at Melissa and made a little motion with his head that tid her she should go to bed. “Lwant to stay up,” Melissa said. “T want to hear about all the trouble you used to get into.” Jim said, “What have you been telling her?" “Tony answered, “None of the juicy stuff. Don't worry.” “Pleeease,” Melissa said. Laura, who had been standing quietl in the doorway with Alice, told Melissa to go get her nightgown on. “I'll get them off to bed,” she said. “Why don’t you guys make yourselves drinks downstairs, and I'ljoin you when I'm done?” Tony said, “Sounds good to me.” “’'m going to take Tony out to a bar.” jim put his arm around Laura and kissed her on the forehead. Then he directed Tony toward the living room. On the steps down to the front door he said, speaking loudly and without looking back at Laura, “We have alot to catch up on.” When he looked up, he saw Laura still stand- ing by the kitchen with Alice on her shoulder, her mouth open a little. He called, "I'll be.back late. Don’t wait up.” Tony waved to her. “Hey. [twas nice.” Jim reached around Tony and opened the screen door, his body leaning into Tony's, nudging him out. “Hey, man,” Tony said as Jim pulled the mahogany door closed light behind him, “are you hustling me out of your house?” Jim had on his standard summer outht: loafers without socks, lightweight Khaki pants, and a solid-color Tshirt. He said, “It's getting cool,” and went to the back of his car, where a linen jacket was hanging from a hook above the side window. He put on the Jacket and took out Alice's car seat while Tony watched. “What?” Tony said. He opened his hands, asif surprised. “Are you ‘mad at me? I should have called, right?" Jim put the car seat in the trunk and pointed to the passenger door, indicating that Tony should get in. “Jesus Christ." Tony got in the car. Waen Jim got in and started. the engine, Tony said again, “Jesus Christ. Some welcome.” “What is it, Tony?” Jim started for tie expressway. “Am I not being friendly enough?” "Hey," Tony said, “we did hang outa lot of years.” He flipped the sun visor down and looked at himself in the mirror. “Have I changed EDWARD FALCO 287 that much?” He pointed at the gold ring in his nose. “It’s the nose ring, right? The nose ring’s got you freaked?” “You're a funny guy, Tony.” “What's funny? You want to see something funny? Here, I'll show you my tattoo.” He started to unbutton his shirt Jim grabbed his arm. “Stop it. Tell me winy you're here.” “Tony leaned back in his seat as if he were suddenly tired. Jim turned and looked at him. The boyishness he remembered ‘was gone entirely. Tony's skin had hardened and thickened: it looked as though it would feel ragged to the touch. His eyes seemed to have sunk into their sockets, and he had small fatty growths around cach eyelid. He was forty-two, four years younger than Jim, and he looked like a man in his late fifties or early sities, a man who had Jed a rough life. “So where am I taking you?” “I thought we were going fora drink.” “You want a drink?” “Sounds good to me.” “Fine. I know a bar: You want to tell me what's up?” “I'm insulted,” Tony said. He was lying back in his seat as if ‘00 exhausted to move. “Afterall the years we hung out, I can’t stop in to say hello? A social visit?” “What's the gun for?” “The gun?” He reached around and touched the middle of his back. “I didn’t think you'd see. I mean, I know your old lady dicn’t sec nothing." He wok a ninemillianeter Beretta out from under the back of his shirt. He placed it on the console between them. “Let, me tell you what's happening, man. You'll understand.” Jim said, “Isn't this a social visit?” “You haven’t changed, bro.” Tony sat up straight. “Actually, man, 1 can't believe you. Look at you! You look like Don Johnson, Mismi Vice. Slick.” He slapped Jim’s stomach. “How come you don’t have a gut, like me?” He held his belly with both hands. “And what kind of car is this, Jimmy?” He looked around the interior. “I never seen a car like this.” “It'sa Rover.” “Awhat?” “ARover.” “What the hell's a Rover? Sounds like a dog.” Jim said, “Tell me what's going on.” a 288 The Artist “Tve got a problem, Never mind the drink. You have to take me into the city." Tony stopped and seemed to think about how to con- tinue. Then his thought process apparently shifted. “Bue, Jimmy, man,” he said, “look at you. Stony Brook, Long Island. This is like where the rich people live, right? You're like rich now. You got a octor wife. You got your own business. You live in a goddamn mansion, You look great, your wife's a piece of ass —I mean, what is this? You're unbelievable, man.” Tony reached over and slapped him on the stomach again. “I'm proud of you, man. I'm still a small-time drug-dealing jerk-off, and look at you. I'm proud of yo Jimmy. Imean it.” ‘Jim checked the side-view mirror as he picked up speed on the entrance ramp to the Long Island Expressway. He pulled the car over to the extreme left-hand lane and accelerated to seventy. “What kind of trouble are you in? What do you need?” “Don’tyou want to know how I know all this stuff about you?" “Thaven’t kepta low profile.” “That's the truth. The Village Voice! Not that I would have recog- nized you from the picture, Where’s the curly hair down to your ass?" “Te was never down to my ass. Since when do you read The Village Voice?” “Idon’,," Tony said, “Ellis showed me.” Jim seemed surprised. “I thought Ellis would have moved on a long time ago." “Oh,” Tony said, “Like, me, you're not surprised I'm stil small time — but Ellis... Man, you don't know Elis. Don't even think you know Ellis. The guy you knew, those years. . . he's like com- pletely gone, totally. He don’t even exist anymore.” “What happened to him’ “Drugs. Twisted stuff. He's a sick puppy, man. If he’s alive an- other moath, I'll be surprised.” “Why? What's he gor?” “Not like that,” Tony said. He pointed to his temple. “He's sick this way. He's out of his mind. He's not even human anymore, Jimmy. You won't believe the stuff he's into. I tell you some of the things he's done, you'll puke right here, man. Right in the car.” Jim pulled into the slow lane, behind a tractorarailer. He pointed to the gun on the console beside him. “Put that on the floor or something. I want to pass this truck.” Tony put the gun on the floor EDWARD FALCO 289 in the back, and Jim pulled into the passing lane. They were both quiet for along time then, driving in silence in the dark. When trey Jefe Nassau County and entered the city, streetlights suddenly ap- peared above the road. “Remember those two guys?” Tony said, as if the lights had sud- denly waked him. Jim didn't answer. He knew what Tony was referring to without having to think about it. "We're in the cig,” he said. “You want to tell me where we're going? You want to tell me what the hell I'm doing here?” Tony had slumped down in his seat and put his knees up on the dash, Jim knew that Tony was staring up at him, checking his reaction, Tony reached down into his pocket and came up with a fat manila envelope. He opened the top. “Ten thousand dollars,” he said. “I need you to give this to Ellis for me.” Jim took the money and held it up in front of the steering wheel. ‘The bills stuffed into the envelope were held tight with a thick rubber band. He dropped the envelope onto the console. “What's this?" “It’s Elis's Jimmy, my man, Ellis has got millions in his place. All in envelopes just like this. He's out of his mind.” “Millions?” “You don't believe me.” Tony put his right hand over his fore head, closed his eyes, and pointed to Jim with his left hand, He looked like a magician about to identify a card. "Lookat the back of the envelope. What's the number?” ‘Jim looked at the back of the envelope. The number was written large with a black marker. “One hundred and sixty-two.” “You do the math.” “Ellis has got a hundred and sixty-two envelopes stashed in his place, each with ten thousand dollars?” “More. And he counts them, Two, three times a day: Religious” “Somebody would have killed him for it by now. “Jimmy ... Elis is... Everybody's scared of him. Everybody." “This is the same Ellis I used to play chess with? This is the Elis who was our supplier?” “No, man. I told you. That Ellis is long dead. This is some other guy.” Tony reached over his head and turned on the interior light He said, “Look at me, man,” and he leaned close to Jimmy. Jim squinted and reached to turn off the light. 290 The Artist ‘Tony smacked his hand away. “I'm serious,” he said. “Look at me." Jim mrned to look at him and then turned back to the road. “I looked at you," he said. “Will you turn off the light?” ‘Just listen a minute.” He put his hand on Jim's shoulder. “I need you to do me this favor, but you have to understand about Ellis. You can’t tell just to look at him.” He paused for a moment and then turned off the light. "We're almost there,” he said. “T'lltell youa few things.” “Thank you.” “Ellis owns this building; he lives on the top floor — the whole floor. He's got a freezer set up in his living room. He'll show it to you. He shows it to everybody. When he opens it, you're going to see a cop in it.” He pointed out of the car, to the right. “Take this "he said. Jim pulled the car to the right, slowed down, and exited onto a cobblestone avenue strewn with garbage. "Where the hell are we?” “South Bronx. Just stay on this a couple of miles.” Jim slowed down to twenty miles an hour, and even then the cobblestones tested the suspension. The streets on either side of hhim were empty. Whole blocks had been gutted by fire. “A cop,” he said. "He's gota cop in a freezer.” “A dead cop.” “Is thisa joke, Tony?" “Lwish.” “You want me to believe this crap? Ellis has got a dead cop in a freezer in his living room, a couple of million dollars scattered around in envelopes ..”. It's a joke. What else? Anything else you ‘want to tell me about him?" “Could I make this up, Jimmy? Really? Ask yourself, if T were lying, would I tell you stuff this wild?” Tony clasped his hands behind his neck and tapped his foot. ‘I'm getting nervous just coming up here.” He jerked around and retrieved the gun from the back floor. ‘Thaven’t told you the half oft.” He leaned forward and put the Beretta into its holster behind his back. “He sleeps with litde girls from the neighborhood. He pays their junkie mothers and they come over in the morning and bathe him — these three litde girls. They carry water to his bath. I'm talking eight, nine years old, Same thing at night. It’s like some sort of ceremony, some sort of ritual. They fill the tub and then. ..” Tony stopped and shook his EDWARD FALCO 291 head, disgust apparently overcoming him. “He wants me dead, Jimmy, and the guy's a stone-cold, pure-insane murderer. He's got ‘this machete . . .” Again Tony stopped and shook his head. He pointed out the window, “Turn right here.” im turned right onto a wide, welhlit boulevard. The area seemed to improve some: the streets were paved, the buildings weren't bombed out, here and there people were sitting on stoops. Along- side him Jim could feel Tony's nervousness. “Let me ask you some- thing, Tony. If Ellis is so bad, why are you still hanging with him?” “Let me ask you something first,” Tony said. “How come it’s

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