Tony Partly Cloudy by Nick Rollins

it’s really great to have a place of my own, you know?”
    Jimmy patted Tony’s shoulders, then walked around the table to grab his overcoat. As he put it on, he said, “Listen, Tony – it went good tonight. Real smooth. I’m very pleased. Let’s plan on doing this again next week, same time and all. That good for you?”
    Tony nodded eagerly. “Sure, Jimmy. Next Thursday’s good. No problem.”
    “Excellent,” Jimmy said. “I’ll call you.” His face grew serious. “I’ll always call you,” he said. “I’m never going to just show up. You know, through the, uh, back door there.” He nodded toward the couch. “So I don’t want you worried that you might get any unexpected visitors. I respect a man’s privacy, you know? I mean, you might be entertaining a young lady or something, and I wouldn’t want to interrupt, you know what I mean?” Jimmy’s smile was lascivious, his tone confidential. Just two men of the world talking about chicks, Tony thought. Yeah, right – like he’d ever get a girl interested in coming to see him here. Tony knew weather. But he didn’t kid himself that he knew women.
    “Thanks, Jimmy – I mean Uncle Jimmy,” he said. “I appreciate that.”
    Jimmy said, “Eric,” and Tony heard locks being unlatched. He looked over to his door, and saw that Eric had finished unlocking the door, and was now poking his head outside, looking the hallway up and down. Eric turned and nodded to Jimmy, saying, “We’re clear.” With that he stepped outside, leaving the door open behind him.
    Jimmy walked to the door and turned to address Tony. “Thanks again, kid. I’ll see you next week. Same time, same station, okay, Tony?”
    As Tony nodded in response, he saw Jimmy begin to chuckle quietly.
    “What is it?” Tony asked.
    Jimmy got his laughter under control, but his smile was still mischievous. “Sorry,” Jimmy said, “but that name just kills me – Tony Partly Cloudy. I never heard that before – I can’t believe we Italians never came up with that.”
    Tony smiled in return. “Yeah, some kids at school – college, I mean – they started calling me that. Hey, I don’t mind. I think it’s kinda funny. But I never heard it before, either. I mean, they sure don’t call my old man that.”
    Jimmy laughed again. “No, I don’t suppose they do. Somehow I don’t see Frankie B finding it amusing. But you, it suits. And you’re studying the weather, if I’m not mistaken, so it’s doubly appropriate, don’t you think?”
    “Yeah, I guess so,” Tony said, thinking that Jimmy seemed to know everything about everybody. Tony decided that was probably a fact worth remembering.
    Sensing that Jimmy was about to leave, Tony stood and walked over to him, offering his hand. He thought he saw a brief glimmer of recognition in Jimmy’s face, an indication that this show of manners and respect had been observed and noted.
    Jimmy shook hands with Tony, then said, “I’ll talk to you.” Then he walked out the door, closing it behind him.
    Tony locked all his deadbolts, then grabbed his chemistry book and plopped down on his couch for some last-minute cramming. As he did, he felt the crinkling of paper beneath him. He sat up, finding the money Jimmy had left on the couch. He had forgotten all about that. Picking up the bills, he counted them. Then he counted them again.
    “Holy shit,” he said for the second time that evening.
    It was five hundred dollars.

THE FOLLOWING WEDNESDAY NIGHT, Tony received another phone call from Jimmy Carbone, again at precisely seven o’clock. It was the same drill: Jimmy was bringing “a few of the boys” over for some poker tomorrow, around eight o’clock. Tony cheerfully agreed, and decided to try to play along with the conversation a little more actively this time.
    “Sounds great, Uncle Jimmy. Hey – is it my turn to get the chips and beer?”
    Without a pause Jimmy said, “That’d be terrific, Tony. But you better get a lot of beer