Part 5 (1/2)
”You look like a smart girl. Just do your job and don't ask too many questions. We'll get along just fine. And if Ronnie bothers you, just let me know. I'll handle him. Well, now that all the pleasantries are out of the way, why don't you make us some coffee while I figure out what to do with you?”
Ann started for the coffee maker, stopped, and turned around toward Alice. ”There is just one question I'd like to ask.”
”Last one. Shoot.”
”Who was that man standing back there, just staring at us the whole time Ronnie was talking? He looked creepy.”
”Oh, that was Joseph Cordeleone. We just call him Joey. You don't want to get to know him. He really runs this place even though Ronnie thinks he's the warehouse foreman. Everything that goes on here goes straight to Sam Johnson. Joey's the resident Mafia man.” Marie laughed, which launched her into a coughing spasm. She drank down the last half of a bottle of c.o.ke that had gone flat sitting on her desk but never put down her cigarette. ”He and I don't get along too good, because I ain't afraid of him or Sam Johnson.”
Chapter 11.
”After the Civil War, railroads were the king of transportation, extended by the transcontinental railroad connecting the east to the west.”
Spring 1959 Life at the Nestlebaum house in Winston-Salem was a stark contrast to what it was back in Bankstowne. Red kept his promise to stop drinking, but it had already damaged his liver and he had become senile. For his own safety and the employees at the warehouse, he was forced to take disability. Although he no longer worked for Sam Johnson and was no danger to him, Red still received his paycheck every month. Most of his days were spent sitting in his favorite recliner watching TV. Occasionally he showed some attention to little Ricky when he chattered at Red in a language only he understood.
They lived more comfortably and could afford new furniture and a used car Ann could drive to work now. She enjoyed the independence from her domineering father, which allowed her to develop a closer bond with her mother. Little Ricky was the center of their lives, but Ann had allowed herself to enter a relations.h.i.+p with a young man she met at work.
They sat together as a family in their living room. Red watched TV with Jo Lee while Ann and Alice played with Ricky.
”Momma, you don't have those stomach pains anymore, do you?” Ann said.
Alice shook her head. ”Going on three years without much pain.”
”Since we moved,” Ann said.
”That's right.”
”Think the move had anything to do with it?”
”That or this little fellow.” She picked up Ricky, who'd been playing with a set of blocks between the two of them.
At first they disagreed over naming her baby Ricky, but that had faded quickly with the loving disposition he showed toward Alice. She didn't seem to mind taking care of little Ricky while Ann worked her way into more responsibility at the warehouse.
”I love little Ricky more than my own life. I wish your daddy's mind was clear enough to remember him from one day to the next. But you paid the highest price, and I'm sorry I let you down that day. I just didn't have the strength to face your father. Heaven knows what he would have done. I hate myself for letting him sell your soul to Sam Johnson.
Ann smiled. ”Based on your health and the calm around the house, I'd say it wasn't all bad.”
”That Sam Johnson, though. He's the real snake, making millions from his illegal cigarette business, and n.o.body cares.” Alice broke into a coughing spasm, requiring her to handoff Ricky to Ann. Even though she'd switched to filtered cigarettes, she couldn't get rid of her cough.
”Don't blame yourself, Momma. You only did what you had to do. You couldn't fight Daddy and Sam Johnson too.”
”I'll blame who I please,” Alice said after she'd recovered from her coughing. ”That Sam Johnson raised his boy wrong.” She glanced at Red sitting in his recliner, the TV's images reflected in his glazed eyes. ”I'm so thankful you and your sister turned out as well as you did.”
”But you're wrong about one thing. Somebody cares. I've learned how to run that office, and Marie confides in me all the time. I know all about the double set of books, the millions of cigarettes he sells illegally, and how he hides the huge profits. I know everything that goes on in Sam Johnson's twisted world.”
Her mother gave her a grave glare. ”I want you to go back and finish high school then go to college. We robbed you of that opportunity, and now that you're father doesn't have a say in it . . .” Alice closed her eyes and sighed. ”You need to get out of that place. I'm afraid you're going to get into trouble.”
”Don't worry about me, I don't need all that now. I have a wonderful son who is my life. I'm making good money and we have a nice house to live in. Jo Lee wants to go to college, and I can help her do that. There'll be plenty of time to make Tank and Sam pay for what they did to us. I promise you that.”
”I still worry about you in that place.”
When Ann shrugged in response, Alice took Ricky once more.
”I'll read little Ricky a story and put him to bed. Why don't you go in and visit with your father a few minutes?”
”Momma, I've tried talking to him. He just stares at the TV and answers yes or no, if he answers at all. He apologized in his own way when he stopped drinking after the move. I don't expect anything more and I don't blame him. Let's just leave it at that, okay? I'll say prayers with little Ricky after you read to him. I think I'll read for a little while and turn in early myself. It was a pretty busy day.”
Winter 1959 Jerry Blackmon always had a smile and friendly greeting for Ann when he swung off the slow-rolling boxcar. His job was finished after cars were switched onto the spur line, loaded, and picked up on the main line.
”Good morning, Ann.”
”Hi, Jerry. It's freezing out there. Have time for a cup of coffee to warm you up?”
Jerry was ruggedly handsome and carried 190 pounds packed on a six-foot-two frame. He wore a crew cut even though guys wearing long hair had become the latest style. Jerry stayed in shape by swinging off the bottom step of a boxcar to run ahead and throw the switch to the spur line leading to the loading dock.
Marie and Jerry were the only people Ann a.s.sociated with since she came to work for Sam. Jerry worked for the railroad, responsible for cutting cars off the main line onto spur lines at tobacco warehouses in and around Winston-Salem.
Jerry was six years older than Ann, but she allowed herself to know him well enough to make jokes about the two toes he lost to frostbite in the Korean War. They shared coffee from his favorite Junior Johnson NASCAR cups and ate lunch together every day at the office.
Warehouse workers moved quickly in the cold winter wind to load boxcars. They looked like a line of ants trailing from the warehouse into the boxcar and back with a load teetering on the front end of forklifts.
”Watch what you're doing, you idiot,” Ronnie shouted at an operator when the top box slid off his forklift that was piled too high. ”You wanna keep that job? Then you better not let that happen again. If those cigarettes are damaged and have to be pulled, your paycheck will have a big hole in it this week.” His harsh comments rolled off the backs of the Mexicans who couldn't understand a word he said.
”He's so mean,” Ann said to Jerry as they watched the driver scramble to pick up the ripped-open boxes that had scattered across the floor. ”I don't know how those people put up with him. I knew I didn't like him when I met him on my first day here.”
”It's better than the work they can get back home,” Jerry said.
Ann shook her head. ”How many cars today?” She always asked these kinds of questions about the business and played it as if she were just interested in the warehouse's workings as an employee, but she filed every piece of information she could in her memory for later use against Sam Johnson. ”Mr. Johnson seems to be adding another one almost every week now.”
”Yeah, I guess business is really good,” Jerry said. ”He's pus.h.i.+ng to s.h.i.+p a million cases a week from here. I'm not sure the warehouse guys can handle an order that big.”
”They're stretched pretty thin. If he is seriously considering-”
”Enough shop talk,” Jerry broke in. ”When are you going to give up and go to a movie with me? It's Friday and you don't have to worry about a babysitter. West Side Story has been playing at the Capitol all week and will probably be gone next week. I know you like musicals, so how about it?”
Ann had kept busy, not letting Jerry or anyone get too close. She surprised herself by wanting to say yes to the first guy she felt comfortable with since Rick.
”Well, I guess so,” she teased. ”Why don't you pick me up around seven?”
”I think your gentleman friend is at the door. Why don't you invite him in for a few minutes? I'd like to meet him and let him meet little Ricky.”
It was a cold November day. A clear night brought the temperature down after sundown like a falling rock. Jerry was dressed like an Eskimo, wearing a heavy coat with a fur trimmed hood and gloves. He stamped his boots to shake off a light dusting of snow that fell during the day before going inside.
”Mom, I want you to meet Jerry Blackmon. He's the brakeman on the box cars from the main line to the loading dock at the warehouse. My dad is in the kitchen eating supper with little Ricky. You can meet him later.”