“Six two.”
“And you’re only twelve,” his father said. “So you’re gonna stand out. Kids will make fun of you like you’re some kind of freak.”
Tommy Boy’s eyes teared up. “You mean like calling me Big Bird?”
“Those assholes,” Montanari said. “What are they all, like five foot nothing, eighty-five pounds soaking wet? They’re jealous. They want you to feel like crap because you’re built like a man, and they’re not. You know why your mother and I didn’t tell you about this IQ thing when we first found out?”
Tommy Boy shook his head.
“Because we wanted you to feel normal. Bad enough you’re bigger than everybody else. Worse if they know you’re smarter. People hate your guts when they think you’re better than them.”
The tears spilled over and trickled down the boy’s cheeks. “So what do I do?”
Montanari looked at his wife. He knew the question would be coming, and his answer was simple: Kick the shit out of the little bastards, and you’ll see how fast they start showing you some respect.
But that didn’t fly with Angela. So, using all the parenting skills they had, they came up with another solution.
“Look, kiddo,” he said, putting a hand on his son’s shoulder, “you can’t pretend to be short, but you can pretend to be dumb.”
“Not dumb,” his mother corrected. “Just not so smart. You’ll fit in more.”
It turned out to be not such bad advice, especially when he started working for Jojo. The man was clueless, but as long as Tommy Boy played the happy-go-lucky buffoon, Jojo felt superior.
Only one person figured out how smart he was. Papa Joe. Nothing got past him.
“You’re dumb like a fox,” he said one night when Tommy Boy was driving him to Bernice’s place.
Tommy froze at the wheel.
“Don’t worry,” Salvi said. “Right now all I need is your muscle. But I like knowing you have a good head on your shoulders for when the time comes.”
When the time comes. Tommy Boy had waited, and this was the time. Eliminating the two bastards who killed Enzo would make his bones with Joe Salvi forever. And the payback wouldn’t be some bullshit two-year vacation in Sicily like he told Jojo. It would be a spot in the organization. A real spot. Then he could stop acting.
“You got a game plan yet?” Tommy Boy asked Jojo as he turned back onto Crane Street.
“Break the lock, go in, look around, take pictures with the cell phone if we see anything, then go back to Howard Beach.”
“Good idea,” Tommy Boy said. “Except maybe I could pick the lock instead of breaking it, so they won’t know we were here.”
“Of course we pick the lock,” Jojo said. “That’s what I meant. I just didn’t think I had to spell it out for you.”
They parked the car and walked to the back of the building. The lock was amateur hour, and Tommy had it open in seconds. The room was long and narrow, no more than four feet deep.
There were two mismatched chairs and a small folding table with a stack of audio equipment on it. Nothing worth stealing. Then Tommy Boy spotted the peepholes.
“Over here,” he whispered, pointing at the wall in front of them. “Whatever is going on in there, they watch from back here.”
There were two narrow openings cut into the Sheetrock at eye level. Tommy Boy had to crouch down to peer through one of them.
Jojo didn’t even bother to look. He waited for Tommy Boy to tell him if it was worth the effort. But the big man didn’t say a word. He just stared at the woman in the Hazmat suit who was chained to a pipe. The pizza box from San Remo was on the floor, most of it not eaten, and there was a video camera in front of her. He put it all together in a heartbeat, and when he did, he felt as if he’d just walked into King Tut’s tomb.
“What the hell is so damn interesting?” Jojo said, pressing his forehead against the second spy window.
“Holy fuck,” he said. “What the—”
“Shhh. Don’t let her hear you.”
“These guys are cops? They got some real freaky shit going on,” Jojo said in a harsh whisper. “What do you think we should do?”
Tommy Boy pulled his phone out of his pocket.
“Who you calling?” Jojo said.
“Nobody,” Tommy whispered. “Getting pictures.”
He put the phone up against one of the openings and started clicking. After he’d collected a dozen shots, he put the phone back in his pocket. “Let’s blow this place,” he said.
“Are you crazy?” Jojo said. “Are you looking at what I’m looking at? They’ve got some broad chained to a pole. Should we go in? Should we cut her down? We should at least find out who she is.”