I will be doing regular readings of all my books from the last Ten years, in lieu of my new book "Coeval of the Hedonic" (A.Glass 2025) which needs to be settled for at least a month, before the readings will begin. Reading: "KALAS" (A.Glass 2020)

 

Promenading a quite path of Central Park, he pulls up the collar of his dark blue trench coat, viewing another man in the distance looking up a sculptured landmark. Standing next to the shorter man, he also looks up at the sculpture, as the man beside him, balding in his late forties, casually dressed, turns and faces the formally dressed man, as he holds out his hand, to which it is reciprocated.

“Good to see you Angelo”

The man nods, with a smile. “Likewise, Mr Tommy Novik.”

Both men chuckle. As Novik looks up at the sculpture once more. “Walter Scott, the famous Scottish poet,”

“I wouldn't know...” Angelo Donini replies, as both men walk towards a nearby bench. They both sit, with Novik sitting to the left of the shorter man.

“I gotta say, thank you for visiting me in jail over the years...” Donini replies, as Novik nods in a respectful manner. “...it meant a lot. When you get your ties cut and strung out on a ten year sentence, reduced to five...” he leans back into the park bench. “...Y'know?” Donini takes from the inside of his sports jacket a packet of cigarettes. Novik, looks down at the crunched up cigarette packet.

“I do know. Here...” He hands Donini a plastic wrapped cigar. “...put those fucking things away. Celebrate.”

“Don't mind if I do,” he replies, taking the cigar from Novik's open right palm. Donini begins to unwrap the cigar. Placing in his mouth. “And you?”

“Nah, cutting back. But I got this...” he lifts out a hip flask from his inner right trench coat pocket. Unscrewing the cap, which is also a small stainless steel cup. Handing it to the man next to him, who promptly lights his cigar, blowing out the plume of gray smoke, with his left hand he takes the metallic cup, as Novik fills it up. Pointing, with his left hand still clutching the hip flask, at the sculpture of the Scottish poet.

“Scotch whiskey...in homage and respect.”

Donini lifts the small metallic cup filled to the brim as he takes a swig, as does Novik from the flask.

“Cheers”

“Salute”

“John Frazzano passed away,” Novik says, staring ahead into the distance.”

“Yeah, the under boss Donny Valiante will take over now...” Donini replies as he briefly looks around. “...Five fucking years inside, didn't go State Witness...” He then looks at Novik. “...I helped them set up a lot of their Manhattan contacts...” He has a sip from the small cup with his right hand, holding up the stainless steel cap, as Novik leans forward and pours some more whiskey into the metallic cylinder. “...I got a cash retainer of Five K, that's it...Oh and they got me a cleaning job, one of the family's subcontracted fucking setups…” Donini draws some smoke from his cigar, looking at it, he then blows it outward. “...But now, I'm too fucking old to care,” he says, looking at Novik.

“I think you're younger than me,” Novik replies smiling.

“Yeah, what's ya secret? Like a thirty year old.” Tapping his own face with his left hand.

“Vinegar face wash,” Novik replies, as he nods appreciatively at the complimentary remark. Sipping from the hip flask.

“Really?” Donini replies.

“Nah...” He then looks at the once made guy or a New York Mafiosi family. “...Only use it on the warts.”

“Acid. I guess you just got good genes...” He says, staring ahead at the city skyline. “...You working at the moment?” He asks, leaning back looking at the cigar in a relaxed manner.

“Caught between...” Novik holds up the right and left index fingers. “...Two worlds.”

“These new guys...” Donini shakes his head. “...Y'know my daughter, she turned twenty last week. Already engaged...” Donini looks at his old colleague. “...I ain't going back, I did my time. She's my focus now, I gotta do what I gotta do...But its gonna be legal. But, this new crew...back in the day, the old timers. Nah, we wouldn't just be dealing drugs. They want the quick buck...” Resting his left hand onto his forehead, he looks down. “...Frazzano always called you the ghost. He said you needed some sun...” Donini smiles, looking back at Novik, pointing at the overcast sky.

“Well, I ain't Sicilian. But, I know what he meant.” Novik looks at the small Hebrew letter tattooed on his right wrist.”

“He trusted you, knew you'd keep your nose clean, we all appreciated that.”

“But no retainer...” Novik replies, staring ahead

“Cause you were just an associate. Actually more of an…”

“...Outsider.” Novik finishes Donini's sentence, to which the man sitting beside him doesn't reply, instead he looks at a sparrow as it lands near where the two men are sitting.

“I gotta go. Job interview.”

“Really?” Donini asks as Novik stands, brushing down his trench coat.

“Downtown”

“Well, good luck my friend. Thanks again for the cigar and whiskey. Y'know, if there's anything I can do for you... within means. You know where to find me?”

“I know, thank you.” Novik replies, as his former associate of a crime family who has just been released from jail, hands the small metallic cup back to him. One of Novik's last contacts of a past that is eroding rapidly. Taking the small silver cap, he screws it back onto the top of the hip flask, placing it back into his right side coat pocket. He shakes Donini's hand.

“You have honor Tommy,” Donini says, as he remains sitting on the park bench. Novik bows his head in a respectful manner and walks back towards lower Manhattan as Donini watches him walk away, exhaling, he then closes his eyes, leaning back he faces directly ahead towards the west side of Central Park. As Novik eyes the east.

“Feels like I am clutching at straws...” Novik says quietly to himself, as he looks up at the overcast skyline. “...Does the past dissolve the past?”

He walks onward.

___

Reading: "KALAS" (A.Glass 2020)