Tower: A Novel by Bruen Ken & Coleman Reed Farrel

Author:Bruen, Ken & Coleman, Reed Farrel [Bruen, Ken]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781480405929
Publisher: Busted Flush Press, LLC
Published: 2013-03-12T04:00:00+00:00

“I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think they will sing to me.”

—T.S. Eliot, from his poem, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”

COVER STORY. COVER GIRL. Women are the perfect camouflage. You could have thought up a thousand elaborate excuses for why I had to leave Brooklyn, why I had to quit Uncle Harry’s, why I had to temporarily part company with Boyle and the boyos, yet none would have done the trick like the mention of a woman. Let me tell you something, it’s men that are the bigger suckers for love. Women look for love. Men look for pussy and stumble onto love. And Christ, when we stumble it’s an endless fall. Who do you think misses their first loves more, men or women? If you say women, you’re a fool.

So when I went to Boyle and told him I’d met someone and that I was moving to Philadelphia to be with her, he didn’t flinch. Fuck, not only didn’t he flinch, the man offered to get me in with some donkeys down Broad Street way. Politely refused, saying that if I was going to do dirt, it would only be on his behalf. Smiled like a proud father. Unnerved me, that smile. Never seen its like from my own dad. With the atmosphere surrounding my mom’s suicide and with Nicky earning like he was, Boyle didn’t give my leaving a second thought. Still O’Connor and Ira thought we should make a bit of a show of it, wanted to prove to Boyle’s crew that there was a girl and that I was smitten.

Didn’t have to pretend, for I was smitten, immediately, on the spot, even now. Met at a Starbucks up in Scarsdale: a town of well-to-do Asians and Jews pretending to be Biff and Muffy at the club. Not the kind of place you’d be apt to find Boyle, Griffin or Nicky sipping Pinot Noir by the pool or quietly clapping by the tee box and shouting, “Well struck!”

“You Rosen?” she asked, coming up behind me.

“Last time I checked.” I made to stand.

“Don’t bother. I’m Velez, Leeza Velez.”

God, just thinking about the first time I saw her gives me that odd sensation, a cross between nerves and nirvana. She was about five foot five with elegant curves, straight sable hair that hung just slightly over her shoulders. She had bright brown eyes, a nose and jaw line that plastic surgeons could only hope to reproduce, and a dangerous mouth. Her teeth were even and white, her lips plush but not extravagant. The combination made for an electric smile, make believe though it was.

“Kiss me!”

“What?”

“We’re in love, remember?”

Kissed her awkwardly, like I had a mouth full of braces. Felt about twelve years old.

“Christ, you’ll have to do better than that,” she said. “If we’re being watched, they’re gonna think you’re either a liar or half a fag.”

So I folded her in my arms and kissed her hard on the mouth, my tongue slipping effortlessly between her lips.

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