Condemned by John Nicholas Iannuzzi Page B

kids—”
    â€œI remember, Mr. Red, I remember.” Money nodded.
    Red chuckled. “I used, we all used to wear the gaudiest, I mean, gaudiest outfits, standing out there on the avenue, me in a purple suit, hat to match. Big Joe Galiber, had a red suit with matching hat. Man! We were gaud-eeey.”
    Money chuckled. “I had electric blue, with pistol pockets.”
    â€œPistol pockets! Damn. Haven’t thought about pistol pockets in a hundred years.”
    â€œUsed to get our suits from Hal’s Clothes, over on Fifty-Fifth” In Harlem, “fifty-fifth” referred to 155th Street.
    â€œThat’s right, Hal’s. We certainly were colorful in those days,” smiled Red. “Just dumb kids, showing off,” he added after a moment. Money nodded. “I got my first big Cadillac convertible about then,” said Red, “purple, too. Remember the one with the big fins.”
    â€œI remember.”
    â€œIs it my imagination, or did we have more fun then? I don’t mean because we were young. We didn’t know a damn thing existed below Twentieth Street. But, I mean, life was simpler, we didn’t have The Man breathing down our necks, bugging our clubs, following us around day and night, doing all the stuff they do nowadays.”
    â€œIt seems it was better then, different anyhow,” said Money. “By the way, speaking of Big Joe Galiber, I saw him the other day.”
    â€œYou did? You talk to him?”
    Money shook his head. “You said we shouldn’t go near him.”
    â€œWe can’t.” Red shook his head slowly. “He’s a State Senator, went to law school at night. Doing real good. He can’t afford being seen with the likes of us any more. Shame. I miss the big cheese. But it’s better this way. Where’d you see him?”
    â€œHe was having a fund-raising thing over at some restaurant. My sister, Monay, was invited. Asked me to drive her. As I got there, he drove up. Driving a big Cadillac—”
    â€œAll black, of course,” said Red.
    â€œIt was.”
    â€œAs usual, as usual,” laughed Red. “Did you give Monay a donation for her to give him?”
    â€œNo I didn’t, Mr. Red. I didn’t know you’d want me to.”
    â€œWe ought to send him a good-size contribution, good-size. Let Monay give it to him. She don’t have to say it’s from us. He’ll know. The man is doing us proud. Send him something good.”
    â€œYes, Mr. Red.”
    â€œSee, that’s what I mean,” began Red. “We all had good times, hell of good times. Nowadays—maybe we were just ignorant, then, didn’t know any better. Today, everything is bigger, faster. But everything goes faster, too. Life goes faster, like in a blur. Remember when you were a kid, your birthday seemed to come around every two years or so. Now, I think I have a birthday every six months.”
    â€œThat’s the truth, Mr. Red, that’s the truth.”
    â€œSometimes, I can’t make myself realize that Leslie’s gone. God, Money, she was the most beautiful woman … I still see her walking on Lenox Avenue the first night I ever saw her. Stopped me cold. Just something about the way we looked at each other. Boom. I was fresh. But she must have known we had something. We started talking, started seeing each other, got married, lived here, there. She was my woman—.” He studied the far wall again.
    â€œI know that, Mr. Red. She was the best. You know I always said that.”
    â€œYes, you did: yes, you did.” Red sipped his drink. “That’s all gone, now. In a blur, a flash. The product came into our lives like a flood. And everything went with it. Sure, plenty of dough, plenty of new clothes, more sophisticated people, cars, deals, schemes—but you know, somehow it all seems to be made of flimsier material. There seemed to be more quality to life back