“The girls like him all right. They’re goin’ nuts over that choriati.”
“What do they know, huh? He sings like a nigger, that guy.”
Stefanos changed the subject as he changed lanes. “Sou aresi to caro mou?”
“Yeah, it’s all right. You know me, boss, I don’t know one model from the other.”
Stefanos had recently purchased the Belair, a used ’57, from Star Pontiac at 4th and Florida in Northeast. It was a sporty V-8 with a beautiful turquoise-and-white finish, whitewall tires, and continental kit complete with Power Glide. Stefanos went for the turquoise color, and he really liked the classic lines.
“It’s all paid for,” said Stefanos, “that’s what I like. Seventeen hundred and seventy-seven dollars, cash money, and I don’t have to worry about makin’ payments. No interest, nothin’ like that.”
“Good, Niko. That’s good.”
“Sure, you don’t care. You’re too busy with your newspaper.”
“Just readin’ about Ike. He really gave it to the Reds in this speech he made. He said that the Reds ‘promote world revolution, destroy freedom, and commun... communize the world.’ He’s tellin’ ’em, goddamn.”
Stefanos turned his head to the left, brought up some phlegm, spat out the window. “Anything in the sports page?”
“Mia stigmi.” Costa found the section. “Here we go. Bob Addie’s talkin’ about some Cuban ballplayer here. Says the kid is the fastest thing to come out of Cuba since the Batista sympathizers. That’s supposed to be funny, right?”
“Yeah, that’s pretty good.”
“And here’s an article on the Nats. They lost six straight in preseason ball.”
“They gonna do anything this year?”
“They’ll end up in the cellar, like last year. It’s a race for second place in the American League, anyhow. The Yankees have it sewed up. I’m tellin’ you, it’s the Yankees and everybody else.”
“Okay, Costa. All right.”
Costa screwed up his face. “Niko, turn that goddamn music down, will ya?”
“The kid likes it.”
“The pethi. Everything for the pethi. I saw you this mornin’, watchin’ that show with him on channel nine, what the hell’s that bufo’s name, wears the uniform like he’s in the Navy?”
“Captain Kangaroo. And right after that we watched Ranger Hal.”
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about! The next thing, you’re gonna be canceling our card game so you and the boy can watch cartoons!”
“Well, I might.”
“Everything for the pethi.”
“That’s right.”
Costa shook his head, shuffled the pages, turned to a large display ad. The sun came through the open window, highlighting the gray hair crowding the black of his moustache.
“Here we go!” said Costa excitedly. “Jumbo’s got chicken fryers for twenty-seven cents a pound. I’m gonna pick up a few later on for the magazi.”
“What, you’re gonna take a bus all the way out to Benning Road because the chickens are a penny cheaper than our regular food vendor?”
“A penny’s a penny, Niko, goddamn right!”
Stefanos glanced down at the boy sitting at his side. The boy wore his first pair of blue jeans, bulged in the middle from the diaper underneath, and a set of red suspenders over a green striped shirt. Stefanos smiled.
“You gotta learn to relax,” he said. “Enjoy things a little bit, re.”
They came out of Rock Creek and rode along the Potomac and around the Tidal Basin and drove on into the park at Hains Point. Stefanos parked beside a black ’56 Coupe de Ville and cut the engine. Costa blinked hard, stared at the Negro man waxing the Caddy carefully in the shade.
“A mavros, hangin’ out at Hains Point like he owns a piece of it. Time was you could sleep in this park on summer nights, not worry about nothin’. I remember—”
“Sure, you remember. And I remember when the movies were a nickel. So what? Come on, Costa, let’s get out and walk a little, enjoy the day.”
Costa tossed the newspaper over his shoulder, into the Belair’s backseat.
“Careful, re, you’re gonna crush the flowers!”
“All right!”
Stefanos pulled the boy out of the car.
“Opa!” said Stefanos. The boy smiled.
They walked beneath a blooming cherry tree to the concrete walk that ran around the edge of the park. Stefanos set the boy down carefully, steadied him on his feet. The boy went to the rail and Stefanos followed close behind.
“Watch him,” said Costa. “You don’t keep an eye on him, he’s gonna go right in the drink.”
“I am watchin’ him, what do ya think? He just started walkin’ a few months ago! Anyway, I’m not worried. If he went in, you’d go in after him.”
“I wouldn’t go in that water even if I fell in it.”
“You’d go in all right. ’Cause you know how much I love this boy.”
“I know, Niko.” Costa looked at his friend. “You think your son and daughter-in-law’s ever gonna come over to this country and help raise their boy?”
“They said they’d be right behind him when they sent him to me. But, you know what, Costa? I don’t even care anymore if they do.”
They stood at the rail there, keeping track of the child and looking across the Washington Channel, brilliantly reflecting the afternoon sun. Across the channel, the fish markets were open for business and thriving along Maine Avenue.
“I remember when Lou DiGeordano had a stand over there.”
“Me, too. How’s Lou doin’?”
“He’s all right.”
Costa spat over the rail. “You read the Star last night? The New York Boxing Commission’s gonna make Sugar Ray Robinson defend his title against Carmen Basilio.”
“Ray’s a good fighter. Maybe the best who ever stepped into a ring. But he’s what, thirty-seven?”
“Thirty-eight.” Costa reached down, pulled on the boy’s suspenders, brought him back from the rail. “Speakin’ of old fighters, I saw Steve Mamakos, walkin’ down M Street.”
“I heard Mamakos was all punch drunk.”
“Punch drunk, hell. That was just some crazy rumor went around. He looked all right to me.”
Stefanos said, “Pete Karras loved that guy.”
“Yeah, Karras. That who those flowers are for in the back of the car?”
“Yeah, I’m gonna run out to Glenwood after this. I’m gonna do my stavro, leave the flowers on his grave.”
“Between you and that fat detective friend of his, he’s got flowers every month.”
“Yeah.”
“How’s Eleni?”
“Okay. I see her at church, her and the boy. Dimitri’s twelve, thirteen now, somethin’ like that. Karras took care of them with that insurance policy he took out. Bought it from this guy, always used to come around the grill, bug him all the time about this veteran’s deal he had. Yeah, Karras, he did something right there. He did one thing right, at least.”
Costa followed the glide of a gull against the perfect blue sky. “Those were some times, Niko.”
“Yes.”
“You ever hear from that Polish kid, worked for us back then?”
“Not for a while. I got a couple letters in the beginning. He opened a tavern up there in Pennsylvania, found a girl, got married, like that.”
“Toula told me somethin’ about a sister.”
“He never mentioned no sister in the letters. I don’t know what happened to her.”
Costa looked over at Stefanos. His friend had gotten heavy, and his features had begun to sag, and what remained of his hair was thin and gray. But the laugh lines and character were deeply etched into his face.