Free Tony Partly Cloudy by Nick Rollins Page A

soggy guests, handing out beers and collecting towels. Finally he approached Jimmy, holding his hand out for Jimmy’s towel.
    “Thanks,” Jimmy said, looking Tony in the eye as he handed him the towel. “I appreciate it.”
    Tony grinned. The big palooka grin, without a trace of guile. “Forget about it,” Tony said.
    Jimmy nodded. But forgetting about things wasn’t his style.
    When Jimmy showed up the following Thursday, he came bearing gifts.
    “What’s in the box?” Tony asked, pointing toward the large cardboard carton Eric was working on opening.
    Jimmy said, “Give him a minute to set it up. In the meantime, maybe you could get the boys something to drink.”
    “You got it,” Tony said, and hurried about the business of taking drink orders.
    When he was finished distributing beer to his guests, Tony saw that Eric had taken up his usual post by the door. The cardboard box had disappeared.
    But next to the couch now stood an ornate iron umbrella stand, stocked with six large umbrellas.
    ♠ ♥ ♣ ♦
    Tony got along well with everybody who attended the Partly Cloudy Poker Club. Well, almost everybody. Despite Tony’s best efforts, Louie the Leg maintained an attitude toward him that made Frankie B seem like Mister Rogers by comparison. Then again, Louie didn’t treat anybody particularly well, no matter how many beers he used to placate his apparently constant state of rage. Most of the card games Tony hosted went off without a hitch, but whenever Louie was one of the guests, things could get iffy.
    “I don’t know why I even play with you assholes,” Louie said one night, throwing his cards down in disgust. “It ain’t like I can afford it. Not like some of you pricks.”
    “Whaddaya talkin’ about?” said Big Al. Tony was always amazed that such a tiny man had such a deep voice. “Back when I had the action in that neighborhood, I never had no problems making ends meet. But maybe I was just a better businessman.”
    Louie bristled. “That, or maybe you’re just a goddamn dinosaur.”
    “What did you say?” Big Al’s voice seemed to drop another octave.
    “That was a different time,” Louie said. “Before the neighborhood went to hell. It’s all freakin’ crackheads now – nobody’s got any real money. You had it easy.”
    “So I’m a dinosaur? You’re calling me a goddamn dinosaur?”
    Louie waved a dismissive hand. “Dinosaur, midget – have it your way.”
    Nobody saw the move. But everybody heard the smooth metallic click of the revolver being cocked. The revolver Big Al was now pointing at Louie.
    “What the hell?” Louie cried, instinctively pushing his chair back from the table.
    “You don’t talk to me that way,” Big Al said. “Nobody talks to me that way.” The gun – a stainless .38 snubnose – seemed huge in Al’s tiny hand. But he held it steady, unwavering.
    Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Nobody breathed.
    Finally Jimmy broke the silence, his voice calm, his tone fatherly.
    “Boys. Let’s relax. Seriously.”
    Big Al remained frozen, his gun trained on Louie. “Nobody talks to me that way,” he repeated.
    “You’re absolutely right about that,” Jimmy said. “We all know that.” Jimmy caught Louie’s eye. “ All of us know that, don’t we? So why don’t you put that thing down and let Louie here apologize?”
    Again nobody moved. All eyes were on Al’s gun, which continued to point at Louie’s torso.
    “Alberto,” Jimmy said softly. “ Per favore. ”
    Finally Big Al withdrew the gun, uncocking the hammer with a tiny thumb.
    “ Grazie ,” Jimmy said, almost in a whisper. Then he faced Louie, and his voice grew more stern. “Well?”
    Louie held his hands out in a shrug. “What do you want me to say? I’m freakin’ sorry, okay? I shouldn’ta said what I said.” His eyes showed barely contained anger that belied his words as he addressed the smaller man. “Please accept my apologies.”
    Big Al said nothing.
    “You see?” Jimmy