When the Next Train Comes

“Evening, Mr. Manzelli. The usual?”

“Yeah Frankie, what I always get.”

“One Scotch and Soda, coming up!”

Vinnie Manzelli sat in his usual stool in his usual bar, about to have his usual drink. He heard Frankie the bartender drop ice into a highball glass with an audible thunk, followed by pouring a measure of scotch, and then finally the hiss of the soda siphon as he finished off the drink and slide it down the bar.

Vinny caught the slid drink with reflexes surprisingly fast for someone of his age. He was around 50, impeccably dressed in a Brooks Brothers suit, with a gold-plated Rolex on his left wrist, square-framed eyeglasses over bright blue eyes, and a few grey streaks in his hair. To an external observer, it wouldn’t make much sense for someone of Vinnie’s obvious means to be doing his drinking in a dive bar by the railroad tracks on a Tuesday evening, but Vinnie liked the place precisely for this reason.

After nursing his drink for a few minutes, Vinnie heard the bell for the front door jangle. He turned his head and saw another man about his age enter, perhaps a bit more heavyset than him and without glasses but otherwise dressed very similarly. Vinnie raised his hand in silent greeting, and the man came and sat down on the stool next to him. Suddenly, a locomotive horn blared in the distance, and then the bar shook as a freight train thundered past on the tracks nearby.

“Ah, Mr. Lucca,” Frankie said to the man who just came in, “your usual too?”

“Yeah Frankie, thanks.”, Mr. Lucca replied.

“Alright, one Rum and Coke coming up!”, Frankie replied happily.

“Hey Sal, you’re late.”, Vinnie commented disapprovingly as he turned to Mr. Lucca.

“Nuh-uh pal, you’re early. We said 8, I was here at 8.”, Sal retorted.

“Eh, not important.”, Vinnie said as he took another sip of his drink. “So, how we doing Sal?”

“Not too good my friend, not too good.”, Sal responded as he caught the Rum and Coke sliding down the bar.

“Well,” Vinnie continued as he lowered his voice and leaned in closer, “what the fuck is the problem? Is it the gas station thing?”

“Nah Vinnie, it ain’t the gas station thing.”, Sal said as he lowered his voice and leaned in to match Vinnie. “That’s still a nice little earner for us. Great idea on that one, by the way.”

“Is it the thing with the guy in Philly?”

“Nah, it ain’t that either. That shit ain’t gone down yet, but we’re not figuring on any problems when it does. Paulie’s got that thing locked down like the state pen.”

“Sal, I’m tired of playing 20 Question with you. If it ain’t the gas station thing, and it ain’t the thing in Philly, what the fucking hell is the problem then?”, Vinnie hissed angrily.

“Well, Vinnie, we got…”

The bell over the front door jangled again. Vinnie and Sal both spun to face the door, Vinnie’s hand quickly sliding into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. In walked a man about half their age, visibly drunk. He wore a tan belted raincoat, visibly tattered, a necktie half untied, and a look on his face like he’d just woken up from dental surgery. He stumbled over to the other end of the bar and sat down as Frankie went to take his order.

“Ugh, fuckin’ wino.”, Vinnie grumbled as he removed his hand from his suit jacket and spun his stool back to face Sal.

“Yeah boss, I know. He don’t even look that old either.”, Sal added as he swung around as well.

“These kids today, I tell ya’ Sal. They got no drive, no ambition. They don’t have to work for nuthin’ the way we did, so when the gravy train dries up the end up like the son of a bitch over there.”, Vinie grumbled.

“Anyways, Vinnie, the reason we’re havin’ problems is because of the Corellis.”

“The Corellis? But aren’t they from Jersey?”

“Yeah, they used to be from Jersey. But last year, old man Corelli sent one of his kids out here. Said he wanted to expand the business, ya know?”

“Yeah Sal, I know.”

“Well, initially I didn’t pay much attention to him. I mean, this is our place, we got this territory locked down. I figured the kid would be gone in a few months. But-”

“Let me guess Sal, the kid ain’t gone, is he?”, Vinnie interrupted testily.

“Nah, Vinnie, he ain’t. Turns out he’s got a lot more brains and drive than we thought he did. Chip off the block of his old man really.”

“Sal, did you give his old man a call and explain the situation to him? Tell him this ain’t allowed and that we don’t appreciate the competition?”

“Yeah Vinnie, I did. His secretary picked up. Apparently, he was in the hospital for some or another heart thing and wasn’t taking calls from anyone outside the family.”

“Old fuck, he was probably sittin’ in the same room laughing his ass off.”

“So Vinnie, that’s basically the situation. What are we gonna do about it?”

“Well, to start off we gotta-“

“Ayyyyy, my buddies!”, the drunk sang out as he raced down the barroom holding a half-drunk glass of beer. He put his arms around Vinnie and Sal as they hunched over the bar. The beer sloshed around in his glass, and they could smell the alcohol on his rancid breath.

“Ayyyyy, h-h-how you guys been?” the drunk stammered.

“Hey pal, we’re kinda tryin’ to have a private conversation here.”, Vinnie replied, trying to get rid of the drunk as fast as possible. “We’d appreciate it if you could maybe give us some space, OK?”

“Ayyyyyyy, but I wanna talk to my buddies!”, the drunk continued obliviously.

Sal spun around, grabbed the drunk by his necktie, and pulled him in close until their noses almost touched.

“Listen punk, you lookin’ to get hurt real bad?”, Sal growled.

The drunk shook his head.

“OK, then back the fuck off and leave us alone or I’m gonna have to take you out back and show you what it’s like, understand?”

The drunk nodded in agreement. Sal released him and he staggered back down to the other end of the barroom.

Just then, Frankie was walking by their end of the bar. Sal grabbed his arm and began to whisper to him.

“Listen, Frankie, can’t you do something about that asshole? He bugs us every time he comes in here, which is basically all the time, know what I mean?”

“Yeah Mr. Lucca, I know he’s annoying, but he’s a steady customer and I ain’t got many of those. I promise, I’ll talk to him and tell him he’s gonna get banned if he doesn’t behave.”

“Alright Frankie, you do that. I’d hate to have to start somethin’ in here, ya know?”

Sal released Frankie, who hurried back down to the other of the bar with a terrified expression on his face.

“Vinnie, you were gonna say somethin’?”, Sal asked.

“Yeah, Sal, I know how we’re gonna deal with this Corelli thing.

We’re gonna do it old-school, like my grandpa would’ve done. We go in fast, hard, and loud; they won’t know what hit em’!”

“But Vinnie, I’m kinda worried. See, I know old man Corelli. He’s tough, he don’t play games. If we come at him, he’s gonna come back at us just as hard, ya know?”

“Sal, don’t tell me you’re goin’ soft on me.”, Vinnie answered mockingly.

“Nah, Vinnie, I’m with you one-hundred percent. I’m just sayin’, ya know?”

“You’re just sayin’ that you’re a pussy who’s afraid of an old man in Jersey.”, Vinnie continued to joke.

“Listen Vinnie, this guy’s got a body count bigger than the fuckin’ Ebola virus! We need to be careful-“

In the distance, a locomotive horn blared again, and again the bar shook as a freight train thundered past on the tracks nearby. This noise seemed to temporarily wake the drunk from his mental haze. For a moment he became very alert, checking his battered wristwatch closely as if noting the precise time the train came and went. Then the train passed, and he returned to his stupor.

“Sal, relax OK? Besides, the Corellis don’t even know we’re gonna hit them. That’s why we always have meetings in this crummy bar. So no one will come here and try to listen in on us. It’s gonna be just like that!”, Paul said as he made the ‘OK’ gestured with his right hand.

“Alright Vinnie, if you say so, I trust you.”, Sal relented.

“OK, that’s just perfect Sal. Now, tomorrow, I want you to take to of the boys and-“

As Vinnie began to explain his plan to Sal, the drunk got up from his stool and checked his watch again. By his estimation, the next train would be passing in around 5 minutes.

Perfect timing.

The drunk stumbled toward the men’s room, entered, and headed straight for the stall farthest from the door, which was marked with a crude, homemade “Out of Order” sign printed on computer paper. The drunk ignored this sign, opened the door, and went inside. He closed the stall door, and, turning to face it, found what he was looking for: a 9-millimeter pistol taped to the back of the stall door.

“-and that’s how we’re going to do it. Got it?”, Vinnie said as he finished explaining his plan to Sal.

“OK Vinnie, I think I can do that. You’re right; old man Corelli is tough, but even he won’t be expecting something like that!”

Sal clapped Vinnie on the back in celebration. Vinnie heard the door to the men’s room creak open again. He heard blare of a locomotive horn in the distance.

And he heard the slide being pulled back on a 9-millimeter pistol.