landlord that Wednesday evening. Mr. Tucci was quite a character. Besides providing references and signing the lease, I felt like I should be kissing his ring or something. The mafia persona aside, he seemed like a nice man and it didn't hurt to have him living in the building. It assured me the heat would be on in the winter and the air conditioning would work in the summertime. The building itself was in great condition. It was off Seventh Avenue on Thirty-Third Street, nestled between brownstones and small shops. The block was quiet and tree-lined. On my way to the apartment I noticed people coming home from work, walking their dogs, and playing with their children. They looked like working professionals: no punks with green hair, and no one looked to be a rapist, murderer, or thief. Ma would be relieved. After showing me where the laundry room, mailboxes, and backdoor were, we sat down in Mr. Tucci's apartment to sign the lease.
Mr. Tucci leaned forward on the sofa and slid the agreement across the coffee table. "Read this over. Grace was paid up through the end of the month, but she didn't give proper notice when leaving so she doesn't get the remainder of the rent back. You can wait till next week and move in on the first or you can move in tonight for all I care. Consider the next week a gift from Grace."
He smiled and stuffed a thick cigar in his mouth with thick fingers. Everything on him was thick: his hands, arms, legs, neck, and mid-section. He reminded me of a fire hydrant. I glanced at Chloe, who was sitting across from me but next to Mr. Tucci on the sofa, and she shrugged. She had her legs crossed. They were good legs, long and lean. She was wearing a brown suit with one of those shirts that had a scarf attached in green. The scarf was knotted on the side of her neck. Her hair was pulled back and she wore little makeup. A small pair of intertwined hoop earrings jingled whenever she turned her head. Her legs were stocking-less, which made sense seeing as how it was ninety degrees outside. The suit's skirt was short but professional. Chloe looked very classy in her brown suit, a brown that was slightly darker than her skin, which reminded me of a caramel macchiato from Starbucks. I found myself wondering if she was just as sweet.
"So, you gonna sign or what?"
Mr. Tucci said that real slowly, like I was real slow and needed to have things broken down for me. I looked at Chloe again and noticed she was also looking at me like I might have special needs. I quickly signed the lease wherever I saw an X.
***
With the first of September falling on a weekday I decided to take Mr. Tucci up on his offer and move in that Saturday. Luckily that day provided a break in the heat wave and I was able to easily convince Paul and Max to assist in the move.
Paul and I had been best friends since we were seven. He lived only a few blocks away from me and we were rarely seen apart. We were about ten the summer afternoon we were cutting through Roman Glen Park on our way home from nothing but trouble when we noticed this little kid getting the snot kicked out of him by two other boys. As we got closer I realized that the boys doing the kicking were Davey Simmons and Charles Kopak.
If I were a superhero, Davey Simmons would be my arch nemesis. Ever since I could remember we competed over every little thing. He was loud, he was big, and he spit when he talked. I didn't like him and I didn't know the poor boy getting the snot kicked out of him, but I was sure he'd done nothing to deserve Davey's wrath. And if he had, so what? I was not going to pass up an opportunity to pound on Davey, so that afternoon Paul and I became the heroes of a small kid new to the neighborhood from Detroit named Max.
We were pretty much attached at the hips from then on. It was a funny union. Paul was the smart one, tall and lanky with brown hair and green eyes. He had that easygoing spirit that made
Mr. Tucci leaned forward on the sofa and slid the agreement across the coffee table. "Read this over. Grace was paid up through the end of the month, but she didn't give proper notice when leaving so she doesn't get the remainder of the rent back. You can wait till next week and move in on the first or you can move in tonight for all I care. Consider the next week a gift from Grace."
He smiled and stuffed a thick cigar in his mouth with thick fingers. Everything on him was thick: his hands, arms, legs, neck, and mid-section. He reminded me of a fire hydrant. I glanced at Chloe, who was sitting across from me but next to Mr. Tucci on the sofa, and she shrugged. She had her legs crossed. They were good legs, long and lean. She was wearing a brown suit with one of those shirts that had a scarf attached in green. The scarf was knotted on the side of her neck. Her hair was pulled back and she wore little makeup. A small pair of intertwined hoop earrings jingled whenever she turned her head. Her legs were stocking-less, which made sense seeing as how it was ninety degrees outside. The suit's skirt was short but professional. Chloe looked very classy in her brown suit, a brown that was slightly darker than her skin, which reminded me of a caramel macchiato from Starbucks. I found myself wondering if she was just as sweet.
"So, you gonna sign or what?"
Mr. Tucci said that real slowly, like I was real slow and needed to have things broken down for me. I looked at Chloe again and noticed she was also looking at me like I might have special needs. I quickly signed the lease wherever I saw an X.
***
With the first of September falling on a weekday I decided to take Mr. Tucci up on his offer and move in that Saturday. Luckily that day provided a break in the heat wave and I was able to easily convince Paul and Max to assist in the move.
Paul and I had been best friends since we were seven. He lived only a few blocks away from me and we were rarely seen apart. We were about ten the summer afternoon we were cutting through Roman Glen Park on our way home from nothing but trouble when we noticed this little kid getting the snot kicked out of him by two other boys. As we got closer I realized that the boys doing the kicking were Davey Simmons and Charles Kopak.
If I were a superhero, Davey Simmons would be my arch nemesis. Ever since I could remember we competed over every little thing. He was loud, he was big, and he spit when he talked. I didn't like him and I didn't know the poor boy getting the snot kicked out of him, but I was sure he'd done nothing to deserve Davey's wrath. And if he had, so what? I was not going to pass up an opportunity to pound on Davey, so that afternoon Paul and I became the heroes of a small kid new to the neighborhood from Detroit named Max.
We were pretty much attached at the hips from then on. It was a funny union. Paul was the smart one, tall and lanky with brown hair and green eyes. He had that easygoing spirit that made
Similar Books
