20 — The Blow-Up
October 20-21, 1938
"I just wish you'd tell me what's going on, Carmine. I want to..."
"I want you to live," Carmine cut in, and Burt's mouth snapped shut.
Carmine went on about his scribbling, then stood abruptly and stretched.
"C'mon," he said.
"We'll go to the Crest."
"I don't think I'll go," Burt sulked.
"Why should I want to go anywhere with a man who doesn't even care enough to tell me the truth?"
"I care too much to let you know things that could be dangerous. Damn it, Burt, I love you! I don't want you mixed up in all this trash, all the trouble around my family."
"It's rather too late for that."
Burt eased up out of his chair, snatched up the newspaper, and disappeared into the bedroom. Carmine, tired but restless, watched him, then grabbed a jacket and headed out.
He didn't know what took him past Molly Mackie's. That was Dom's preferred spot, and Carmine avoided Dom as much as possible in the best of times. Still, some urge compelled him to head over to the "gentleman's club" and to park in an alley across the way. Perhaps he should go in and, if Dom was there, confront him. Just get it all over with.
The .38 in his jacket pocket was cool against his fingers; he snatched them away and began to open the car door.
At the last moment, he settled his hands back on the wheel, puffed out a painful, stale breath, and started the car again. Easing it out of the alley, he made a turn that would take him in the direction of a friendly bar.
He was at the end of the block, preparing to turn again, when he heard the THWOOM and felt his car rock.
Glancing back, Carmine saw Molly Mackie's as a wall of flame. Someone came blazing, screaming, out the front, then fell in the gutter. Stomping on the gas, Carmine made his turn, then parked right around the corner and left the car, running back toward the inferno.
It was Rey Chisto in the gutter, still on fire, still screaming. Carmine whipped off his own jacket and tried to beat out the flames; his .38 slid out and landed near Rey's head. Scooping the weapon up, Carmine slipped it into his trouser pocket instead, just in time to see the bull-like form of Dom barrel out of the blaze.
"Shit! SHIT!" Dom shrieked.
"Dom? Dom, what the hell..."
Carmine's words halted when someone came rocketing down from a window like a comet, smashing into the pavement. Dom screamed again, grabbed Carmine by the arm, and started running down the street, essentially dragging his younger brother with him.
"Jeeeee... JEE-SUS! LEMME GO, DOM! LEMME..."
The crackling POP and the bright wall of pain that accompanied his arm leaving it's socket drove Carmine into the blank wonder of unconsciousness.
It was morning when he woke, and a doctor was examining his arm.
"Well, Mr. Tamburo, I don't think it's any permanent damage," the doctor grinned.
"Huh?"
"Your arm. Your brother gave it quite a good wrench, dragging you away from that fire, but it's all back in place now and, if you take care, everything'll be just fine."
Soon enough, the doctor left, and Dom walked in, plopping himself angrily down in the chair near the hospital bed.
"What the fuck were you doin', Carm?"
"Doin' what?"
"You never hang around Molly's. Why..."
"Wanted to see you. Wanted to see my brother."
'And put a few rounds right through your thick skull,' the thought completed.
"You nuts or somethin'? We hate each other."
"Don't hate you," Carmine wheezed, and winced through an attempted shrug.
Dom laughed, a real, rich laugh.
"Bull shit, kid. Bull shit."
Then Dom was standing, leaning over the bed. He patted Carmine roughly on the injured shoulder, letting the hand linger to squeeze, then left the room, still laughing.
He was out of the hospital that night, and he called around until he learned that Frankie Curvo, looking around the fire, had spotted his car on the cross street. In ten minutes, Frankie turned up and drove him "home". Granted, he took him to the old apartment, but for now, that was no problem. Nunzia was in — with her girl, it turned out — and drove him properly home to Burt's.
Burt was sitting up in the front room, listening to the radio, as Carmine walked in. The look in his eyes as he glanced to the door was dismissive at first, but when he noted Carmine's general rumpled state and the arm in a sling, he rushed to Carmine's side.
"I'm all right, Burt. All right."
"I've been in a state all day! Where were you? What happened?"
"I went last night to see Dom. Went to Molly Mackie's..."
"Jesus, Carmine!"
"Thought better of goin' in, but I was still on the street when the place went up. Dom came out, panicked, tried to drag me away. He popped my arm out of joint..."
"Oh, Christ, shouldn't you be in the hospital, or..."
"They let me out. Just gotta keep it immobilized a while. Not the first time this's happened, anyhow."
Burt, all fussy tenderness, ushered Carmine to the bedroom, tucked him in, then sat by his side, stroking his hair back from his brow and muttering loving admonishments.
Posted Oct 20, 2019, 6:46 AM UTC · edited