Free Tony Partly Cloudy by Nick Rollins Page B

said, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Louie apologized. Just like I knew he would.”
    “Yeah, but he didn’t mean it,” Al mumbled.
    “Jesus H. Christ,” Louie bellowed, rising from his chair. “I can’t win with you assholes! I come here to unwind, play some cards, maybe drink a few beers, and instead I gotta take a ration of shit from all of you? I don’t fucking think so!” With that he swept a massive arm across the table, propelling bottles and plates toward Tony’s side of the table in a rain of beer and potato chips. Instantly every man was on his feet, shouting and swearing. Tony stepped back, brushing debris off his shirt and feeling food crunch under his feet on the carpet. A tall man Tony knew only as Icepick held Big Al’s arms at his sides, while Eric materialized out of nowhere to crowd Louie into a corner of the kitchen.
    The shouting diminished, then ended abruptly when the men realized that one person remained seated motionless at the table.
    Jimmy.
    “ Madonn ’!” Jimmy said when the room finally fell silent. He raised a hand to pick a potato chip off his sweater. His movements were slow and deliberate.
    “This,” Jimmy said in a hiss, “is somebody’s house. This is not how we act, not when we are guests in somebody’s house.” Jimmy stood up. “Particularly in the house of a member of my family.”
    Louie took a step away from Eric, to get an unobstructed view of Jimmy. Tony noticed Eric’s hand slowly reaching inside his leather coat.
    “Last I heard,” Louie said, making a show of working his shoulders as if shrugging off the indignities he’d suffered, “I was a member of this family, too. And I bring a hell of a lot more to the party than beer and goddamn pretzels.” Now Louie turned his gaze to Tony, eyeing him with open contempt.
    Jimmy said, “Go home, Louie.”
    “That’s fine with me,” Louie said. “Who the hell wants to hang around some punk kid’s shithole apartment anyway? Lemme just get one for the road.” Defiantly, Louie opened Tony’s refrigerator and fished out a beer. He opened the bottle, and flicked the bottle cap expertly at Tony, hitting him on the forehead.
    “Sorry ‘bout that, kid,” Louie said with a leer as he walked slowly past Tony. He took a swig of his beer, draining half of it in two swallows. The floor crunched as Louie walked, causing him to look down at the mess he had created.
    “You really ought to clean up this dump, Tony,” he said, finishing his beer. “It’s a like a pigsty in here.”
    Louie cut a wide berth around the men surrounding the trashed poker table, his path taking him into Tony’s living room, where he paused to take in the tiny apartment in a glance.
    “Goddamn pigsty,” he announced, and hurled his beer bottle at Tony’s old black and white TV, shattering its screen.
    The other men’s shouts were quelled by a raised hand from Jimmy, who turned to face Louie. “Go home,” he repeated quietly.
    Eric was at the front door, working the deadbolts free.
    “I’m going,” Louie said, and he did. Eric closed and locked the door behind him.
    In the ensuing silence, Jimmy surveyed the wreckage, then caught Tony’s eye.
    “Tony,” he said, “I’m sorry about all this.”
    This didn’t seem like a good time to complain, so Tony simply said, “It’s not a problem. I’ll get things cleaned up. Forget about it.” Gazing hopefully at Jimmy, he said, “But maybe you guys might want to call it a night? You know, since I’m out of chips and all?”
    This got a halfhearted laugh from the group, and Jimmy quickly agreed.
    “He’s right, boys. Let’s take off, and let the college boy get some rest – what do you say?”
    Everybody voiced overly enthusiastic agreement with Jimmy’s idea, and the group made an exodus for the door. Moments later, only Big Al remained, looking coldly upward at Jimmy.
    “This ain’t over,” he stated simply.
    Jimmy nodded. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know.”
    The