(no subject)
Reaching into a compartment of his undergarments, Carmine pulled out a prepaid phone card, and dialed the one eight hundred number, then entered the card number, then waited through about forty seconds of advertisements telling him to shop at Sam’s Club more often, and informing him he could save money on gas. He pulled out a slip of paper from the front pocket of his soiled trenchcoat, and dialed the number on the paper. It was a 330 area code.
“ Bill,” Carmine said. “This is Carmine, uh listen.”
“Carmine.”
“Calamari.”
“Yeah from up in Detroit.”
“Yeah.”
“Listen, we got a little problem down here.”
“Me and Pete.”
“Limpelli.”
“Pete Limpelli.”
“Yeah from out east.”
“Yeah it’s a great lake, great wager.”
“Uh huh.”
Carmine’s palm began to make a sticky imprint on the phone receiver, and the metal conduit cord made a faint but disturbing grinding sound as it curled against itself.
“Yeah, the Lake Me Situation.”
“Pete said that you said it was covered.”
“Well we got a squad of cop cars out there now sayin everybody’s under arrest.”
“Uh huh.”
“Ok.”
“Yeah.”
Carmine read Bill Badalamente the number on the payphone. Bill said he was going to call him right back, that he needed to make a few phone calls.
“Ok Bill.”
“Yeah.”
“Talk to you in a minute.”
Carmine slowly hung up the phone, clutching it with both hands. Sweat was soaking through the undercoat of the London Fog jacket, and through the doubled over brim of the watch cap. He winced at the sky, starting to cloud over into a humid haze.
William Comparetto
© 2007