Last Exit to Brooklyn (19 page)

The next day there were hundreds of men at the office by a few minutes after 8. By 8:30 they were spread throughout the office and the street drinking coffee, eating cake and drinking beer. The signs had been delivered a few minutes after Harry opened the office and the men rushed with firstdayofthestrike eagerness to grab them and set up the picket line. They joked, laughed and slapped each other on the back energetically, as they did that first day, but they werent relaxed as they were then, but were tensed and hopeful, hopeful of another fight but this time they would be expecting it and would be ready and each man could animate the dreams and thoughts of the night before where they stopped the trucks, pulled the drivers from the cabs and beat their skulls in, each man doing it singlehandedly or, at the most, with the help of a few friends; and when the cops tried to stop them they took their clubs from them and bashed their fuckinskullstoapulp then took the fire hoses and washed the rotten bastards down the fuckin sewer. They drank beer and coffee, continually looking toward the factory, slapping each other on the shoulder but, as they did they tensed their muscles wishing, and hoping takrist, that it was the face of one of the shiteatin cops or one of the scabbastard drivers that they were shovin their fist in … or maybe one of the punk executives would givem some shit and they could beat his ass.

But no one came to work that day and no trucks came within two blocks of the factory. Mr Harrington told the others to stay home, it was Friday and one day would not do any harm. The shipment went out and there was nothing left that they had to do; and by Monday the strikers would have gotten over their anger and everything would
settle back into the routine of the days, months, preceding the fight. The men stayed all day, greeting each newcomer loudly, slapping briskly, but as the day moved and nothing happened they became tired of commenting on all the cops they had there now, must be over a hundred ofem, and how theyd like to break their fuckin skulls; and as the day slowly passed so did their enthusiasm, their frustration and anger increasing. Their cursing was more vehement but it not only lacked organization it also lacked direction. The cops were just standing there, saying nothing; there were no trucks trying to break the line and no wiseyoungpunkofapencilpusher trying to take the bread from their mouths.

The sky remained cloudless all day and the sun bright. It was hot. Very hot. A perfect day for the beach, but none of them were in a mood to enjoy the beach yet they cursed those bastards, if it wasnt for them they could be down the beach now or sittin home with a can of beer watching the ballgame on TV. And they cursed those bastards to each other and by mid afternoon the 4 kegs of beer were empty and Harry ordered a few more and they were delivered rightaway, but some of the men were tired of drinking beer and they drifted, in small groups, into the bar next door to get something stronger, something more satisfying and by the time 5 oclock came, and the sun still had a few hours before it set, their anger was simply anger, no longer even attempting to direct it but just letting it grow until they went home and passed out or got in a fight in a neighborhood bar. When the men left Harry told them to be back bright and early Monday.

Harry felt good sitting at his desk drinking beer and smoking. He had spent the day telling the men how the union wouldnt let them get away with that kindda shit, and wishing he could tell them what he had planned to do to the trucks. If only he could tell them. Then theyd really know how important he is. But whatthefuck, theyd know how important he was anyway. Yeah. He put his feet up on the desk and emptied his glass and leaned back thinking of how soon all the men would nod and say hello when he came by and hed really be respected and maybe he could get rid of that bitchofawife who was always breakin his balls and gettinhim so nervous he could hardly work sometimes and then that fuckinpencilpushinpunk wilson would
shit when Harry Black came around and his smile almost became a smile and he refilled his glass, lit a cigarette, closed his eyes and watched wilson and some of the other punks cowering in fear.

Sal and Vinnie left the Greeks a little after 11, stole a car, got a few cans of gasoline and drove to the small lot where the trucks were parked. They stopped for a moment, looked around, then drove around the block a few times, then the neighborhood for about 10 minutes or so making sure there were no streets closed for any reason or cops in the vicinity, then drove back to the lot and parked the car. The trucks were old models with gas tanks on the side. They tossed gasoline over the trucks, opened the gas tanks, soaked rags in gasoline and put them in the tank openings letting them hang to the ground, then poured a line of gasoline from one rag to the other, all the lines connecting and leading toward the exit. They put the empty gas cans back in the car then lit the stream of gas and ran to the car. They waited until they saw the first trucks catch fire then drove away, turning left on 3rd avenue and speeding as fast as they could for a few blocks then turned down to 2nd avenue which was completely deserted. About a minute after they left the lot they heard an explosion and saw a red glow in the sky. There goes the first one Vin. Looks kindda pretty, eh? Yeah. Itll look even better when the others go too. Yeah, and they laughed. They were half way back to the Greeks when they heard more explosions, muffled but still identifiable, and the glow in the sky was brighter. Pretty good job, eh? Yeah. I guess we gavem their moneys worth. You know Sal, we could go in business if the strike lasts long enough. Yeah, laughing. They ditched the car, first dumping the gas cans, and went back to the Greeks.

Harry was standing on the sidewalk looking down 2nd avenue toward the glow in the sky. Harry laughed his laugh when he saw Sal and Vinnie. Whaddayause a hand grenade? hahaha. Whattayasay Harry? Whattayadoin here? I came ta watch the fireworks, haha. Ya guys sure know how ta blow things up, haha. Take it easy, eh man. Yeah, dont talk so fuckin loud. Dont worry. We’re not, but youd betta get home. If the law comes around they’ll drag yaass in. Yeah, turning
away from the creep and going into the Greeks. I’ll seeya, laughing his laugh and going home.

Harry had a long lovely sleep. When he awoke, late in the morning, he lit a cigarette and looked at the ceiling, closing his eyes from time to time, hearing, but not paying attention to, the sounds Mary made, as she walked around the apartment, and his son, as he played on the living room floor. He thought of that lovely red glow in the sky and how hed like to go up to wilson and the boss and tell them ta watch out or theyd get their asses blown up too, just like those fuckin scab trucks ya sent out. Ya may think youre a big wheel or somethin, but dont fuck with me or youll be sorry, yahear? Dont fuck with Harry Black, Shop Steward of Local 392 so watch it buddy, youre not fuckin with a nobody. Im on the union payroll now and dontya forget it because I pull weight around here and I get my money every week no matter how long the strike lasts and what Mary dont know wont hurt her, I could use the extra money myself anyway, Im the fuckin boss around here and she’d betta not fuck with me either or I’ll throw her ass out in the street. Id be betta off withouter the way shes always breakin my balls …

Harry stayed in bed for a couple of hours, looking at the ceiling, closing his eyes smoking, his face twisting occasionally into an almost smile. When he got up he dressed and went up to the Greeks. He had a couple of cups of coffee and something to eat and sat around for a while then told the counterman to tell Sal and Vinnie, or any of the guys that come in, that he was across the street in his office.

He filled a pitcher with beer, grabbed a glass and sat at his desk, rolling the chair back and forth a few times. He sat at the desk for a few minutes then jumped up and went next door to the bar and asked the bartender if he had todays paper. Yeah, theres one on the table in the back. Take it if yawant. Harry took the paper and left the bar waving to the bartender. Seeya lateta. He spread the paper out on his desk, after looking at the front page, and looked at the centerfold. There was a small picture of a few trucks burning. The caption said that the trucks were parked in the lot for the night and had mysteriously burst into flames and exploded. No one was injured. Harry guzzled some beer, licked his lips and stared at the picture, almost
smiling, for many minutes, then called the union office. I see in the paper that a couplea trucks got burned last night, hahaha. Yes, the police have been here already. No shit? what happened? Nothing. They asked some questions and we told them that we knew nothing about it. Fuckem, the pricks. Right, and the conversation was ended.

Harry had almost finished his second pitcher of beer when Sal, Vinnie, a few of the other guys and the fairy that had been in the bar, came in. Harry got up and waved to the guys, whattayasay, looking at the fairy, watching her walk daintily across the floor toward him. The guys grabbed glasses. Howd yalike that little job we did? Not bad, eh? and someone handed the fairy a glass. She eyed it disdainfully, I hope you dont expect me to drink from this filthy thing … really! Theres a sink in the back. Go washit. What the fuck ya bitchin about? youve had worse than that in ya mouth, and the guys laughed. Any meat I put in my mouth honey has the government stamp of approval, and she sauntered to the sink and carefully washed the glass, Harry watching her until she came back then he turned to Vinnie. Yeah, that was a good job. Theres a picha in the paper. Here. They looked at the picture and laughed. Man, whatta night. What a fuckin ball. Yeah. Were been gobblin bennies all night man and we’re highern a motherfucka. Hey, how about some music, and the radio was turned on. Hey, this kegs almost empty man. That one over theres full. Tapit. Hey Harry, this heres Ginger, a real sweet kid, chuckling, but dont fuck witer man. She use ta be a brick layer. Yeah, now shes a prick layer. The guys laughed and Harry leered at her. Hey, dont yaknow how ta tap a fuckin keg? the fuckin beers goin all over. Whattaya want from me? its warm as piss. Harry said hello and Ginger curtsied. Go next door and get some ice from Al. Its too fuckin hot ta drink warm beer. No shitman, she really use ta be a bricklayer. Yeah, shoim ya muscle Ginger. She smiled and rolled up her sleeve and exhibited a large appleshaped muscle. Aint that some shit? But she got some lovely chips, snapping his fingers and making a chirping sound. You can look but dont touch. Thats it man, pack the sonofabitch with ice. I like cold beer. Tell me Harold, are you in charge of this establishment. Hey, watch yalanguage. Harry sat down, pushed his chair back and drank some beer. Yeah. Im in charge a the strike, wiping his mouth
with his hand, still staring. Ginger smiled and almost told him he looked ludicrous, but could not be bothered putting the freak down. My, that must be quite a task. Yeah, its a bitch of a job, but I get it done. Im pretty big in the union yaknow. Yes, I can well imagine, her stomach twitching from swallowed giggles. Whattayamean its not cold enough yet. Im dyin a thirst. How inthefuck can yadrink warm beer. Wit my mouth, what thefuck yathink. You know, I’m hungry. Why dont one of you gentlemen get me something to eat. Here, I got ya suppa, swingin, and they laughed. Im sorry honey, but I dont like moldy worm eaten meat. Save it for your Mother … if you have one. Hahaha, youre my motha, come an getit. Hey Harry, how about callin up some joint and havin some food sent down here. Ya can sign the bill. O, can you do that Harold? Sure. I can get anythin yawant. I just send the bills to the union. I got a expense sheet. Id just love a barbecued chicken. How the fuck canya eat afta all those bennies. I couldnt go near any food. All I wanna do is drink. Im driernhell. O you novices. Really! Order me a barbecued chicken Harold and get a chocolate layer cake, waving her hand majestically and nodding her head to indicate that she had given an irrevocable order. Yeah, get some chickens, a couplea cakes – and a gallon a ice cream. Man could I go for some ice cream. And how about some potato salad and pickles? Yeah, and – call up Kramers delicatessen on 5th avenue. They got all that shit up there. Harry got on the phone and they continued to shout orders at him and he relayed them to Mr Kramer. When he finished ordering he sat back and took another gulp of beer and watched Ginger as she danced lightly around the room, the excitement that had started when he awoke and increased as he looked at the picture and continued to grow when he called the union office and when the guys and Ginger came in, continued to increase and he leaned forward in his chair slightly as Ginger whirled around the room shaking the tight cheeks of her ass and Harry caressed his beer glass and licked his lips not knowing exactly what he was doing, his body reacting and tingling, aware of nothing but a lightness, almost a giddiness, and a fascination. And a feeling of power and strength. Things would be different now. He was Harry Black. On the payroll of local 392.

When the food came Ginger accepted Harrys gracious offer and sat in his chair and well mannerdly ate a chicken, a few helpings of potato salad and cole slaw and cake, then, tired of drinking unladylike beer, told Harry he should get a few bottles of gin, some tonic water and a few limes which Harry did, adding the bills to the pile in the drawer, and the party continued. Harry was getting very drunk and Ginger, who was in an even more bitchy mood than usual, thought it would be fun to toy with him. She got up from the chair and told Harry to sit then sat on his lap, put her finger in his ear and played with his hair. Harry leered, his eyes rolling slightly. He was drunk but still able to feel the tingling in his thighs yet unaware of the spasmodic jerking of his fingers, the moisture in his mouth. Ginger leaned her face closer to Harrys, tenderly caressing his neck and she watched Harrys lips quiver, felt the trembling in his legs and saw his eyes unfocusing and rolling back. Ginger roared hysterically inside herself and leaned closer to Harry, smiling, until she could feel his slimy breath on her cheek, then jumped up and tapped him playfully on the nose. Oh you naughty man, getting a nice young girl like me all excited, posing provocatively in front of him. She took a few short dainty steps backward, smiling at him coquettishly, and wriggled in time to the music from the radio, glancing over her shoulder at Harry occasionally, leaning her head to one side and winking. Harry continued to lean forward until he fell from the chair, spilling his drink, and kneeling on the floor behind his desk. He dropped the glass and pulled himself up, tiny droplets of saliva hanging from his lips and chin. He pulled himself up and leaned forward. Comeon, lets dansh. Ginger put her hands on her hips and watched him lumber toward her, feeling the power she had over him and despising him. She put her arms around him and started dragging him around the floor, stamping heavily on his toes and lifting her knee up into his groin from time to time, Harry wincing but still trying to smile and drunkenly trying to get closer to her. Ginger pinched his neck fiercely with her fingernails and laughed as Harrys eyes closed, then patted him on the cheek and rubbed his head. Thats a good dog. Do you know how to beg for a bone, lifting her knee into his crotch, Harrys face twisting. Its a shame we’re not in Marys now. You could buy me drinks and we would have
a wonderful time, pinching him again. Harrys eyes closed again. Watch Marys? O, a lovely club I know on 72nd street thats just filled with freaks like you. Youd love it, stepping on his foot and grinding her heel into it. Harrys eyes watered. Letsgo, sliding his hand down Gingers arm, Ginger flexing her hard muscle, bending her arm and squeezing Harrys hand in the crotch of her elbow until he stopped dancing and tugged to loosen it, Ginger squeezing harder, her face set in a smile, putting all her strength, hatred and loathing into the squeezing of Harrys hand, wallowing in the joy of holding Harry immobile with the bending of her arm, feeling like David, not killing Goliath with one stone from his sling, but slowly twisting him down and down and down with the simple twisting of one massive finger with her small dainty ladylike hand. Ginger applied as much pressure as she could, the pressure now hurting her too, but she continued to squeeze Harrys hand as he tugged to loosen it, his face becoming whiter, his eyes bulging, too startled and in too much pain to yell, his mouth hanging open, saliva dripping, spreading his legs for balance and leverage, pushing her arm with his other hand, looking at her in complete bewilderment, not understanding what was happening, too drunk to comprehend the incongruity of the situation: the little faggot conquering the giant with the crotch of her arm; his eyes asking why but no question formed in his mind, just instinctively trying to free himself of the pain. Ginger stared directly into his face, smiling still, wanting to crush him, to force him to his knees. He bent his arm to one side, still not using his other hand against Harry, his face stiffening as Harrys body started to lean with the pressure, Ginger wanting to yell IM MORE OF A MAN THAN YOU, then suddenly she opened her arm, spun around and left Harry standing there, looking after her as she mixed herself another drink, holding his hand and rubbing it.