Hooked

Eileen’s day to carpool, but she’d pulled her back playing tennis and didn’t want to miss a massage appointment. After he dropped off the kids, Benny returned home to enjoy his morning coffee and newspaper in solitude before heading for the city. Instead of going to Upper Eighties, his chauffeur dropped him off at Gruber’s Deli for lunch. He schmoozed with Sam, devoured a pastrami on rye, and drank his cream soda. He ordered a coffee to go. Today would be a great day. At least he thought so until he arrived at Upper Eighties and Colin waved him into the office.
    The day was sunny, no clouds in the sky, perfect temperature. Couldn’t be better. Then why did Benny have this feeling of doom? If he kept going to his apartment, ignored this needless distraction, nothing could spoil his day, right? But Benny responded to Colin’s beckoning finger and stepped into the office in spite of the urge not to.
    “I shouldn’t tell you this,” Colin began.
    Benny put up his hand. “Then do us both a favor and don’t.”
    “Something’s going to happen today that might upset you. You should be prepared.”
    “Oh, Jesus.” Benny pulled the cover off his coffee. “Let me drink first. I might need the jolt.”
    “Then I suggest you get the scotch.”
    “That bad?”
    “Worse,” Colin said.
    What could be worse than two dead women, a psycho mob accountant, and a crime boss breathing down his ass? Colin appeared smaller somehow, pinched, and he looked scared. The only time Benny saw Colin scared was the night Rick Martell pulverized Cindi. Nothing could be that bad. Or could it?
    His chest tightened. “What? Tell me.”
    “Mario Russo hired Reggie to do Rick Martell.”
    “Do? What does “do” mean? You mean like a gay thing? Martell’s gay?”
    Colin made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a snort. Maybe a guffaw. “No, Benny. Reggie doesn’t cheat on me, and if he did, he wouldn’t butt-fuck a hippo like Martell.”
    Benny made a yech sound. “That’s d isgusting, Colin.” He took another sip of coffee. “If that’s not what you meant, what did you mean?”
    “Do. Like off. You know, kill, murder.”
    “Kill, mur―” Benny’s ears started ringing. He wished he’d stayed home, wished he’d never left the frenetic pace of Wall Street. Wished he’d been on a steady diet of saltpeter. “Mur―” Colin’s voice became otherworldly. The office zoomed out until all Benny saw was a tiny square in a field of black with teensy Colin in the middle, right before he hit the floor like a sac k of cement. He barely felt the spilled coffee burn the shit out of his pecker.
    * * * * *
    B enny woke with a start. Colin held a glass of scotch to his mouth, and the liquid dribbled down his chin onto his shirt. Gurgling, he shook off his tech.
    “I hope that’s not the good stuff,” Benny muttered.
    “You don’t leave that in the office.”
    Benny pulled himself up. His pants were coffee-stained. Good thing he kept clothes in the apartment. He jiggled himself. “God, that coffee was boiling hot.” He jiggled himself a gain. “Hurts like hell. Bet I’ll have a blister.”
    “Forget your dick. This is serious.”
    “What were you saying before I had a low blood sugar attack? Something about m-mur―, mur―. I can’t even say it. Tell me that was part of my blackout. Like a hallucinatio n or a dream sequence. Tell me, Colin.”
    “I shouldn’t have told you.”
    “Jesus Christ.” Benny got up and brushed himself off, wincing as he felt the raw spot rubbing inside his boxers. “What in hell was Russo thinking? Why do that?”
    “I’m gonna tell you what Reggie told me. He wasn’t supposed to, but he did. Russo figured if the cops came down hard on Melody, eventually she’d talk. She’d roll on Martell, and Martell would roll on Russo to cut himself a deal.”
    “Russo’s going to be dead in a few months. What would it matter?”
    “Martell knows everything, and not only about the Russo Family. He’d be the biggest catch for the feds ever because he knows where all the money is. Russo couldn’t afford that. If he didn’t take care of business, someone else would.”
    “So let them. Why get Reggie to do his dirty work? No offense, Colin, but Reggie isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer.”
    “I do take offense, Benny. Reggie’s my partner. And he’s loyal.”
    “Loyal,” Benny shrieked. “He told you. How loyal is that to Russo?” Benny rubbed his eyes. This couldn’t be