The Delivery Job
The Delivery Job
9th Chapter of the series: Read the rest by clicking here: Henry Goodman Inc.
Henry, Dusty, and Emma sat around the dining table in their apartment staring intently at the little jar of honey bearing the name of the infamous mobster, Mr. Gilbert, who has developed a curious fascination with Henry Goodman’s new career. He took inventory of all the jobs he has done over the past few months and traced a good amount of them to known associates of Mr. Gilbert. While they have all been odd jobs, none of them have been explicitly illegal. But there is a first time for everything. The previous night, after leaving the hospital, Henry filled them in on everything Raj told him, so they all had a lot swimming around in their minds.
Hank broke the silence, “I’m going to deliver it to him myself.”
“No!” the other two shouted in unison.
“That is a bad idea!”
“For once, I agree with Dusty,” Emma gave him an agreeable pat on the back. “This is getting too dangerous. The cops are watching everything you do and the worst part about it is not knowing if they’re on his payroll. We need to find a way to get you two unraveled.”
“Maybe I can talk to him about the stress it's putting on my life and he’ll understand. Jew to Jew, you know?”
“Jew to jew?” Dusty looked at him in disbelief. “Is that really a thing?”
“That’s the only reason I could imagine him being so helpful to me.”
“Have you talked to your mom about this?” Emma asked cautiously, knowing the tumultuous relationship Henry has with his mother. “She knows every Jew from here to Antarctica.”
“I can’t open that can of worms right now. If I call her, I’ll have to grovel and writhe in guilt for neglecting her for months. She’ll fill me in all the gossip, doctor’s appointments, and upcoming family events I will be forced to attend.”
“How can you treat your mama like that? She gave you life. I call my mother every day.” Dusty showed them a picture of his mother, a surprisingly fit Dominican woman, posing on the home screen of his phone.
“Oh my god, Dusty!” Emma was astonished. “She is gorgeous!”
“I know, that’s where my good looks come from.” He proudly caressed the scruff growing over his second chin.
“Can you send that to me?” Henry asked.
“Hey! That’s my mami, fool. Don’t be nasty.”
Emma looked down at her watch and shot up quickly. “Oh shoot! I’ve got to run, literally.”
“Em, I wanted to talk to you really quick,” Henry stood up.
“Sorry, Splinter, but I’m very late. Let’s do coffee tonight to make up for last night. I’ll call you as soon as I’m done.” She threw her bag over her shoulder and bolted out of the door.
Henry looked back at the little jar of honey sitting on the table with the ominous glow of a forbidden golden relic. How would he even find Mr. Gilbert? What am I going to do, walk up to his front door and hand it to him? He thought. Vinny works for him and could probably arrange a meeting. He thought about calling his mom, just for the sake of crossing it off the list but thought better of it. Then Hank thought about Dusty’s mom and immediately shook it out of his mind. Dusty was watching him the whole time from the bedroom entryway. “Whatever you’re thinking,” he said, “don’t do it.”
…
Henry took a cab down to Vicenzo’s- a jar of honey in his pocket- and got a booth at the back of the room. There was a tan sedan parked outside of their apartment building and the same one was looking for a parking spot across the street. The waiter came to the table, annoyed that Hank brought his own orange Fanta from outside, but let it slide and took his order down.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Vinny walked over to his booth holding his arms out for a brotherly embrace. “What are you doing in this dark corner? Let me get you a better table.”
“No, it’s okay. I picked this spot.”
“You look spooked,” He noticed Henry looking over his shoulder and turned to see what it was. “Someone tailing you? I’ll make a few calls and get rid of them. Don’t worry about it.”
“No, no, no need for that. I’m just being paranoid. Why would anyone want to follow me around?” Henry tried to feign ignorance.
“Right, right. Well, sit down. Let’s talk. How you doin’?”
“I’m doing great! Business has been steady. Actually, I’ve got a little gift for Mr. Gilbert from one of my clients.” Hank set the jar on the table. “I wanted to give it to him and thank him for the business.”
Vinny wore an unsure look on his face, as if he was in a complicated dilemma. He leaned in close from across the table and whispered, “I can give it to him for you and make sure he gets the message.”
“I really wanted to talk to him myself. There is a personal matter I wanted to discuss.”
“Henry, you’re a good guy. Mr. Gilbert is a busy man. He is not summoned. He summons you if he needs something from you. I’m going to take this for you and let him know you request an audience.” Vinny looked around carefully before sliding a phone across the table. “If the boss needs you for something, he’ll call you on this.”
A bead of sweat trickled down his spine with a cold chill. The fear felt more urgent than ever before. “Thank you,” Henry swallowed as he slipped the phone in his pocket.
“Remember something, Goodman. Whatever you ask of him, he is going to ask in return with interest. The phone call is going to cost you a job. Count the cost of whatever you're going to request after that.” Vinny stood up and wiped his hands on his pants. “Enjoy your meal.”
…
The streets of New York seemed to know something Henry didn’t know about his future. Windows on the high rise watched him sympathetically, shaking their heads at the fool who was in over his head. He is a boy hiding a pocketknife trying to take on the king behind an army of trained guards. His head was spinning like a tornado carrying all the weight of all the things he felt responsible for like Raj’s safety, Emma’s heartache, the corruption in the justice system, taking down a powerful mobster, and calling his Jewish mother.
If she were any other woman, he’d want to call her for motherly warmth and guidance, but she’s not that kind of woman. Her warmth is an icy dose of cold hard facts and her guidance comes from whatever the Rabbi says. His mother will never call but harps on him because they haven’t spoken. When he finished college, her congratulations were, “you shoulda been a lawyer, what are you gonna do with a philosophy degree?” It was a Psychology degree. Instead, he called Emma hoping to finally tell her everything about Charlie no matter how pissed she gets. The call goes to voicemail.
Back at the apartment, Dusty was playing video games on the couch and almost spilled the orange soda on himself when Henry walked in. “Sorry bro, you’ve got me addicted to these things! You wanna play?” He held out a second remote.
Henry waved the remote away favoring a therapy session instead, on the lazy boy. He told Dusty about his dilemma with Emma, his feelings for her, the breakup with Kim, his relationship with his mom and the things Donna (aka Shower Girl) told him. Thinking intently on all that was said, Duty paused the game to lean deeper into the couch with his arms folded across his broad chest. The bottom of his t-shirt lifted revealing a sliver of his hairy gut.
“Jesus Christ,” Dusty did the sign of the cross before continuing. “I say you forget about everyone and go with Shower Girl. She seems kinky.”
“Dusty, I’m being serious.”
“I know! I was kidding but think about it.” He chuckled and slapped him on the side of the leg. “But in all seriousness, you should be real with Emma about your feelings. I could tell immediately, but for some reason you two are retarded when it comes to each other.” Henry gave him a look about using that word, but Dusty shrugged it off. “When this gorgeous blonde goddess came to our apartment and asked for you like a druggie desperate for a hit, I knew it. I’d pay, and good money, to have a girl need me like that.”
“You have Wendy.”
“She’s a smart doctor who thinks I’m cute because I’m Hispanic and fluffy, but she’ll get tired of me.”
“Don’t talk like that. You’re a great guy.”
“Anyway, this is about you. She is waiting for you to tell her that you need her too just as badly as she does. Not just that you need her but WANT her!” he squeezed at the air with his hands and grimaced like Al Pacino groping invisible butt cheeks in Heat. “Don’t deny it. You know or you wouldn’t be a man.”
“She’s going to hate me when I tell her about Charlie. That guy is such a dick for putting me in this position.” Now they are both standing up.
“Yeah, he is. And yeah, she will be. But as a friend, you kinda put yourself in this position for not saying something sooner and hooking up with Kim again.”
“You’re right, Dusty. I’m the dick.” Henry deflated back into the recliner, rocking back and forth absently. An unfamiliar ringtone sounded from his pocket and they both looked at each other in bewilderment. “Hello?”
“Is this Henry Goodman?” asked a generic man’s voice.
“Yes, who is this?”
“Doesn’t matter. The boss has a job for you. He needs you to deliver a car loaded with cargo to a house for a party. The location of the car is in the GPS on this phone you’re using. When you pick up the car, the address will be in the glove compartment along with your payment. You will receive further instructions when you arrive.”
“Can I ask what the cargo is?”
“No,” the voice answered frankly. “And wear a suit. It’s a formal event.” Then, the call disconnected.
Hank looked at Dusty with a forced smile signaling an imminent request for a favor. “Do you feel like going to a party?”
“I don’t want any part of this. I know nothing, heard nothing, and saw nothing.” Dusty put his headphones on and dropped himself back on the couch.
“You know how much I hate driving. All we have to do is drive a car from point A to point B.”
“Drive a car?” He asked as if insulted before repeating, “drive a car? This is typical mafia speak for drug trafficking. Are you crazy?”
“Mr. Gilbert has never asked me to do anything illegal, and I arranged to meet with him. This is my chance to talk to him and see if there is any way I can get out of his grasp without trying to take down the corruption within the NYPD! So, will you please help me out? I don’t want to do this alone.”
After agonizing over it for a long minute, Dusty shook himself off and shouted, “FINE! But if I end up arrested or in the ICU like Raj, our friendship is over and you’re moving out! You feel me?!”
…
They hopped in a cab to a parking garage where the car was parked. It was the most conspicuous scarlet Cadillac DeVille convertible from the 70s. “Please don’t tell me that’s the one?” Dusty complained. The doors were unlocked, and the keys fell out of the driver-side sun visor. Henry opened the glove compartment revealing a manilla envelope with his name written on it. Inside was a card with a QR code and a stack of twenties in a rubber band. The code opened the maps app on the phone to the location of the party. “We gotta drive all the way to Scarsdale?!” Dusty threw his hands in the air. “There goes my day.”
“ETA says it will take us a little over an hour, calm down.”
“Shall we look in the trunk?”
“No! Whatever we are delivering, I don’t want to know. It could be leprechauns for all I care. The less we know, the better our defense is in case anything goes wrong.”
“Sure,” Dusty shrugged his shoulders dismissively as he started the engine. “The judge will just be like they had no idea. Let them go.” Then, the car thundered out of the parking structure and onto the busy streets of the city.
Due to the tense nature of the job, the pair hardly spoke. They listened to music instead though they were limited to the radio on account of the half century old stereo system. It wasn’t until they were on the 278 that Henry noticed the tan sedan from before was behind them. Trying not to seem paranoid, he kept an eye on them to see if they would change lanes or take an exit. “Hey, can you change lanes for me?” Henry asked.
“Why? They are all moving the same.”
“Just do it, I think we’ve got a tail.”
“Oh shit!” Dusty squealed in a pitch that almost cracked the windshield. “They better not be cops, Hanky.” He changed lanes and the tan sedan did the same.
“Try to lose them,” Henry commanded, watching the car through the rear window.
“In this freaking flying red spaceship? It’s gonna be kinda hard, but what the hell!” Dusty kicked it into high gear and floored it, swerving through lanes. Henry watched to see what they would do. It looked like they started to pursue but got stuck in traffic.
“I think we lost them. Maybe they aren’t cops after all. Get off on this exit and take another route.”
Once they were feeling comfortable on the road again, the horrific sound of sirens blasted behind them. They looked at each other pale as ghosts. “Pull over. It’s not worth it.”
Something must have come over Dusty because he downshifted and put the pedal to the metal. The Cadillac took off in a thunderous roar sending Hank reeling back into his seat. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING DUSTY? PULL OVER!”
“I’m not going to jail for you or anybody!” Dusty did the sign of the cross again and clasped both hands on the wheel.
“You have to pull over or it will be much worse! I have faith they won’t find anything but resisting arrest will definitely get us booked. Trust me, Dusty. Pull Over!” Finally, he slowed the car down and veered off to a complete stop on the side of the road. The tan sedan parked behind them and Agent Burke stepped out of it in his long trench coat. His boots knocked against the asphalt like knuckles against a hollow wooden door with each slow step.
“Henry Goodman and Diego ‘Dusty’ Ramirez,” Agent Burke smiled and flashed his badge. “Nice car. Why didn’t you pull over?”
“We did pull over. That’s why we’re here,” Dusty replied laughing nervously.
“We thought you were going after someone else because we weren’t doing anything illegal.” Henry explained.
“Last I checked, speeding was still illegal.” The agent eyed him with an intense glare.
“I thought you were an FBI agent, not a traffic cop.”
“Why don’t you step out of the vehicle wise ass?” commanded another suit, white guy with ginger hair and a mustache. They complied. “Hands where I can see them. What do you have in the trunk?”
“I don’t know. We didn’t look.” Henry thought about the spectacle they must be. Two guys in suits with their hands in the air and their Cadillac being searched by fed. Cars slowed down as they drove by to take a look. It was humiliating.
Agent Burke took the keys from the ignition to unlock the trunk. Inside the trunk were a bunch of bouquets of flowers. The ginger agent took the flowers out angrily and searched the trunk thoroughly. Henry didn’t like the puzzled look Agent Burke studied him with. That relationship might soon become important if he plans to take Mr. Gilbert down eventually. “You boys are free to go. I’ll be in touch, Henry.” He pulled his partner by the arm, who looked frustrated that they were leaving so soon. “Come on, Pat.”
…
“Flowers! We were delivering flowers the whole time,” Dusty marveled as they pulled into the driveway of the destination. It was a large colonial-style house that appeared to be decorated for a wedding or formal garden party. The flowers in the trunk were in bad shape.
“How am I going to explain what happened to the customers?” Henry said as they examined the floral mess.
“Mr. Goodman,” a female voice approached them. “Welcome to the party. The festivities are in the backyard.”
“Luisa?” Henry recognized her from Sherry Alden’s office. “Luisa Bryant from Verity Magazine. Good to see you!” He extended his arms to hug her.
“I didn’t think you’d remember me.” She hugged him back sheepishly. “Who is this?” Luis held out her arm for a shake.
“This is my roommate, Dusty.”
“Pleasure to meet you, madame.” He kissed the back of her hand and bowed low.
“Thank you?” she wasn’t sure how to react. “Or um…charmed? I guess.” Luisa laughed nervously and curtsied. Her cheeks were bright red.
“I’m not hitting on you or anything. My girlfriend is a doctor.”
“Congratulations,” she nodded. After an awkward few seconds of silence, Luisa clapped her hands and said, “Shall we go in?”
“Sure, but the flowers we delivered are ruined. Who do I talk to about that?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. Someone will come take care of it.” She led them out to the large garden arrayed with white tables, white umbrellas, servants in white, a bar and a large buffet. “I may be calling you soon for a job, but I’ll tell you about that when we have a little more time to talk. Enjoy the party. I’ll be around, working, but it’s good to see you again.” Luisa smiled at them before turning back to walk up to the house. They both admired how great she looked in that white dress as she made her way up the steps.
“I’m gonna make my way to the buffet. I’ll find you around here somewhere,” Dusty announced as he was about to depart.
“Henry?” the last voice he expected, called out to him and stopped them both in their tracks.
“MOM?!” Henry exclaimed as a middle-aged woman in a big round hat walked toward him with a cocktail glass in her hand. “What are you doing here?”
“Is that all you have to say to your mother after all this time?” she scolded before sipping carefully. “I don’t get a hug or how are you first?”
Henry gave her a quick obedient hug and asked her how she was.
“Imagine how I, your mother, felt to find out from someone else you’ve been hospitalized twice this month. Dr. Goldberg changed my medication twice because I got a bad reaction that landed me in the ER. No phone call. No flowers. Your brother called me.”
“Hello Mrs. Goodman. I’m Dusty, his roommate.”
“I bet you don’t treat your mother like this.” she said, shaking his hand without interrupting her reprimand.
“No, ma’am. I talk to her every day.”
“Oh!” Henry’s mother stretched out her arms and looked up to the heavens before embracing Dusty’s head against her chest. “Now, this is a good boy. Bless you son. Muah! Are you hungry? Go grab some food.” She kissed his forehead and sent him off to the buffet.
“Mom! I’m sorry I haven’t called you. I’ve been going through a lot. I’m just very surprised to see you here. What are you doing here?”
“I was invited, you dolt. Why shouldn’t I be here?” she gave him a push on the shoulder.
“By whom? Who invited you?”
“By me,” Mr. Gilbert answered as he joined their circle.
“Henry, you remember my old friend Reuben. He was at your Bar Mitzvah.”
“Mr. Gilbert was at my…WHAT!?”
“I’m surprised you don’t remember me. We’ve become such good friends recently.” The man put his arm around her shoulder.
“Oh, you have?” She touched his cheek playfully. “That’s so good of you.”
“Henry has proven to be quite a businessman, like me.”
“I wouldn’t know. He never calls me.”
“Henry, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. The only thing more important than business is family, and we are like family. Your mother and I go way back. Why, you could’ve almost been my son at one point.”
“Would you knock that off.” She scolded. “He is his father’s son. Don’t go putting that in his head.” Henry was in shock. He couldn’t believe she was here and talking to Mr. Gilbert like that. This complicates things. Was Mr. Gilbert hinting at being his father? Did they have an affair? That would explain why he’s been so nice to him? Was his family in bed with the mob? Is that why the feds are tracking him? There are so many questions swirling through his brain.
“Henry, there is someone I want you to meet.” Mr. Gilbert waved someone down. A suave salt and pepper man who could’ve been one of the Ocean’s Eleven joined them. “This is my lawyer, Asher Ferlinghetti. I heard about your run in with the feds and he’s looking into protecting your business.”
“You have an incredibly unique business that defies a lot of conventional labor laws and licenses. Here’s my card. Call me if you need any legal advice.” His blue eyes had a sincere look as if they wanted to say something but couldn’t. He didn’t look like a guy who would be in with the mob. Then again, who does?
“Wow, Reuben! You’re really looking after my baby boy.” She gushed at him. “Listen to this man, Henry. He’s one of the good ones. Can you make sure he goes to temple?”
“I need some air,” Henry let out a weak exhale and started walking away.
“You’re outside. There is air all around you” His mother stated. Henry kept walking to the front of the house, grabbing a glass of champagne from a tray on the way. He threw the champagne down the back of his throat and undid his tie.
“Hey, you alright?” Dusty asked, following him out.
“I gotta get out of here. This has turned into an absolute nightmare.”
“I’ll get us a cab.”
…
