Читать книгу Newark Minutemen - Leslie K. Barry - Страница 23
YAEL:
Longie’s Car. Hawthorne Avenue. Newark, NJ
ОглавлениеI climb behind the wheel of Longie’s car. Harry sits shotgun.
“As far as gangsters go, we’re just hired help,” Harry says to Heidi. “Longie Zwillman hires us boxers as his bodyguards.”
“Uh hunh, like I believe you.” Heidi chides.
I turn and see Krista strokin’ the buttery seat leather and my pants tighten.
“This car is swanky,” she says. “By the way, who is Longie Zwillman?” She scoots forward, peerin’ at us from over the back seats.
I turn on the ignition. “Who’s Longie?” I respond as I hand Krista the bottle. “He’s only the Jewish Mob Boss of Newark. You just saw him hold court.” I shift the car into drive. “Nothing happens without Longie’s stamp of approval. And he takes care of all of us.” I press on the gas pedal and dart through the busy Friday night traffic.
“Don’t you dare, Krista!” Heidi snaps and grabs for the bottle. Krista dodges her. “You can’t touch his germs. You know what he is.”
“Names will never hurt me,” I say with a smile. I swerve and the girls grab the seats. “Does she always ruin your fun, doll?” I tease.
“No one ruins my fun, especially not my stuffy sister.” Krista swigs the liquor. “You’re both boxers?” she asks. She offers the bottle to Heidi, who snubs her. “Didn’t we see you fighting outside City Hall the other night?” Krista passes the bottle forward to Harry, who accepts.
“We do damage, gloves on or off,” I brag. “This is Harry Dropper Vines Levine. Madison Square Garden Golden Glove Champ of ‘36. I’m Yael Slinger Newman.” I reach back and shake hands with Krista. I swear, electricity races to all parts of me from that hand of hers.
Heidi stares out the window. “Where are we going?” she asks.
“To the edge.” I press the gas pedal and the car speeds down the city streets of Newark. I tempt danger because danger keeps me vigilant. Just like boxin’. Reminds me to keep fists up, punches swift, and instincts guarded.
“I’m up for that,” Krista says. She leans closer and the wind rushin’ through the windows blows her two braids back. “I’m Krista Brecht. And this is my uptight older sister, Heidi.” I love the way she says her own name.
Heidi huffs. We laugh and Heidi huffs again.
Harry turns on the radio, and we hear the announcer say, “and now from Frank Dailey’s Meadowbrook in the heart of Cedar Grove comes the African tune, ‘The Lion Sleeps Tonight.’” Through the speakers, the song blasts, and I sway. “Cedar Grove has an amazing beach,” I say. “We’re goin’ right now!” I floor the accelerator and drive onto the turnpike.
Heidi rolls up the window and pats her bangs down. “Let’s get it over with so we can get home where we belong.”
“Sounds fun to me,” Krista says. “Hey, Harry. Why do they call you Dropper Vines?”
“Got lots of knock outs, ya know,” Harry explains. His rigid knuckles wrap around the bottle of whiskey as he returns it to Krista.
“Be honest, buddy,” I say. “You fake your name cause your mama would drop you for boxin’.” I lift my hands off the wheel as I drive. “Did she give you milk and honey before you went out to play tonight?”
Harry doesn’t react. He’s hard to push over the edge. He maintains this dignity that makes me think he can even stop the wind from blowin’. I have to admit. He’s saved my back more than once. We’ve been friends all our lives and when my folks died, he became family. On the other hand, Harry says I rustle thunderclouds. What the heck does that even mean?
I check Krista through the rearview. “So, what’s this summer camp you gals are goin’ to?” I ask with a hard blink of my eyes. “Drink up, babe.”
“We’re attending Camp Siegfried,” Heidi says. She leans over and checks herself in the mirror. “It’s a German Bund Camp in Long Island. I’ll be on staff training our youth.”
“A camp with tents and campfires and that marshmallow and chocolate thingamajig?” I ask her.
Heidi snickers. “It’s called s’mores. Camp Siegfried is where we learn obligations as American citizens. And also practice our German customs.”
“Sounds stressful,” Harry says. His deadpan response makes Heidi frown.
“Heidi just wants to go because her boyfriend Frank is going,” Krista says and slurps more liquor. Dimples pierce her cheeks.
“Horsefeathers!” Heidi retorts. “I’m preparing for my future. As Führer Kuhn says, camp is where we learn to carry German ideals into America.” She wags her finger at Krista. “And remember, your boyfriend, Axel, is going, too.”
“I told my father, I’m almost an adult and have no interest playing volleyball and singing German songs all summer,” Krista grumbles. “But he says it’s our duty. So, we have to go.” Her cheeks flush, and she smiles. “And I have to admit. I can’t wait to see my five best friends.”