Part 3: New York City
First day at Lucardo's Pizza; walk home past an anti-war demonstration; visit Alverez's pawn shop and buy a record player; Andrea's forged documents arrive.
When her sure smile
And languid gaze
Fell abreast of me
In horror and amare …
The snows had melted, and summertime was in the air around the strange woman’s small cottage. Her smile was like sunshine, her words like magic. She was the one who had saved him, asleep in the snow in the wintertime. She was his savior. How had she found him? How long had he been asleep there in the remote wilderness? The forest was beautiful in summertime, bursting with thriving green and yellow, a painted scene of picturesque nature. The rolling hills and bubbling creek were alive with animals. Squirrels, elk, and woodpeckers moved about, weary of the ever-present threat of predators, because there was a fearsome predator that stalked these woods. a heartless killer who knew no remorse or guilt. The wildcat was crafty, and could lie in wait for hours for its prey. When the wildcat moved, its powerful muscles rippled under its thick coat of pale orange fur. He moved like a ghost, silently stalking its prey until the time was right. The fawn never stood a chance. In a bolt of color and speed, the killer was upon the child before it had a chance to react. Its mother fled, there was nothing to be done. The predator had struck. In the morning, O’Neil waited outside his building, nursing a cup of coffee and waiting for Jesus and Andrea to meet him. He greeted another resident he had personally rented to, an elderly Edward Sholes, war veteran of world war one and a widower. He was retired and mostly played euchre and bingo in his free time. Edward was a meticulous and thorough man, and never missed a payment. His apartment was spotless and orderly. The habits the military had instilled in him had stuck. He was also never late for an appointment, as Jesus and Andrea were now. O’Neil took the long walk up to the top floor.
My doctor says I should exercise more, anyway.
When he arrived at 6F, he knocked on the door. Hearing no response, he entered with his key and announced himself. Jesus and Andrea awoke with a start.
“Just a minute, we’ll be out!” Jesus hollered.
“We must have slept through the alarm,” Andrea said, so Jesus could hear.
“Did you set an alarm?”
“No, did you?”
“No.”
“Well, that’s why we slept through it.”
O’Neil noted that one bedroom was open and empty. They dressed and met him outside the apartment door.
“Come on now, don’t wanna be late on the first day,” O’Neil said. He showed them the way to Lucardo’s Pizza, a family owned restaurant managed by Luke Lucardo, a tall, built Italian-American.
“This is Luke. You do what he says, and he’ll take care of you. Luke, this is Winston’s boy and his girlfriend.”
Neither Jesus nor Andrea reacted to the subtle jab from the day before.
“You need anything, call me. You get fired, it’s on you. I did my part,” O’Neil said. Luke took over.
“You ever worked in a kitchen before?” Luke asked Jesus.
“I worked in a bakery.”
“Even better, get back there and find Joe. He’ll show you what to do.”
Joe was a slim college student in a backwards University of Chicago baseball cap. He looked vaguely Middle Eastern, or possibly Eastern European. Like many inhabitants of the big apple, his bloodline was as ambiguous as it was diverse.
“You must be the new guy. Scott and I are running things back here today. We’ve already got most of the setup done for the day, but we can show you around. You ever worked in a kitchen before?”
“I worked in a bakery.”
“You hear that, Scott?” He called out, “The guy worked in a bakery.”
“Heard,” Scott said. Scott was a chubby black guy with short hair, busy kneading dough, “You hungry?”
“Sure, I’m starving,” Jesus said.
“Great, we’ll make a little something before the day really gets started. My name’s Joe, by the way.”
“I’m Jesus, nice to meet you.”
“You got a pretty strong accent there friend, where you from?” Joe asked.
“I’m from Mexico.”
“Lot of beautiful women down there?” Scott asked.
“There’s a lot of beautiful women everywhere,” Jesus said.
“Yeah, but Mexican girls are something else,” Joe said.
“Heard that,” Scott affirmed.
In the front of the store, Luke showed Andrea how to count the money and work the cash register.
“I check to see if it’s short every morning, so make sure it’s not short,” He said, “If we need you back there, you can jump back and help the boys, but I mostly want you up here talking to the customers.”
They worked until five in the afternoon, when the second shift employees began. Scott and Joe were friendly enough.
“Friday,” They told him, “We’re going to a bar in Lower Manhattan. You should come with us.”
Jesus had no reason not to accept the invitation. For Andrea, her shift was equally fulfilling. She got the hang of the register right away. Luke was a good manager, cordial and helpful without hitting on her, which felt like a rarity for someone who looked like her.
Jesus and Andrea decided to walk home. The journey wasn’t so far that it would take more than an hour, and the couple wanted to explore the area they lived in. They stopped for dinner at a Chinese restaurant. Jesus ordered the Beijing beef, and Andrea, the kung pao chicken. The food was rubbery and too salty, but the young couple didn’t care. They were too in love with one another.
They passed a demonstration marching down the street parallel to theirs.
“Let’s go check it out,” Jesus said, and they diverted course to see what the commotion was about. A group of two dozen young people held signs with mottos like, “War is over,” And, “Love one another.” Jesus had heard about the conflict in Vietnam, but until now, it seemed so far away and removed from his own reality.
“Go home dirty draft dodgers!” Shouted a man from the sidewalk. He threw a coke bottle at one of the protestors, a long haired bandana clad neo-cowboy, who gracefully side stepped the projectile.
“People are pretty upset over this war,” Jesus said.
“I didn’t even know there was a war going on.”
“Come on, let’s get out of here before this gets violent,” He said.
A sign caught Jesus’ eye. It read, “Alverez’s Gold and Pawn.” Something compelled him to pull Andrea with him inside of the store. It was lined with an array of second hand goods. Guns, tools, musical instruments, and furniture lined the floor and display cases. A bright, friendly man with a grey goatee stood behind the counter.
“Como estas, my friends, welcome to Alverez’s gold and pawn,” He said, immediately moving towards them. As he did, Jesus noticed a tattoo of a rifle on the inside of his right forearm, “I’m Alverez.
Are you buying or selling?”
“We’re just looking,” Said Andrea, slightly defensively. She had an immediate distaste for anyone this unreasonably warm and friendly.
“In that case, make yourselves at home. Say, you like music?” He said. Jesus’ ears perked up.
That was enough response for Alverez to begin his pitch, “I just had this record player come in today.
Comes with a couple records. Let’s see … Credence Clearwater Revival… Bob Dylan … Can’t tell what this one is. Doesn’t have a name on it. I’ll give you the whole package for $20.”
Ten minutes later, Jesus was carrying the record player down the street. Andrea held the records.
When they arrived back, a photo ID and passport with Andrea’s photo and information was waiting for her on the kitchen counter. The couple listened to Bob Dylan sing the blues as they stoned and loved the night away.