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Blogs by Joseph W. Montaperto
THE INTERVIEW 4/21/2021 9:26:06 PM
Joey is in the middle of the most terrifying job interview in his life in the darkened Fox Hole sitting across from the formidable Big Tommy! So there Joey is - in the middle of an extremely foreboding interview in the darkened Fox Hole - sitting right across the table from Big Tommy, the owner, while he finishes up his veal parmegana and Campari and soda.
“You like Frank Sinatra?”
“Um-yeah - yeah (I vigorously nod), my father listens to him all the time. He’s got every one of his albums.”
“What’s ya favorite song?”
I frantically search my memory. I mean, I didn’t really listen to Frank Sinatra! I’ve heard it all my life- but it isn’t my music. Finally, I blurt out - Summer Wind!
I hope I made the right choice. He finally looks up at me, and for a long time.
“Summer Wind, huh? Awright, sing the first couple of lines fuh me.”
I look at him for a minute- and then smile. He’s joking, right? I mean, he can’t be serious. Finally, Tommy Boy nudges me with his elbow.
“Sing.” He threatens.
I go back in my memory. I’d heard that song probably, like, 1000 times, but I can’t remember any of it now. Finally, I know I just got to wing it.
“The Summer Wind came blowing in
From across the sea
It lingered there to touch your hair
And come walk with me
(I look at him to see if that’s good enough, but he waves at me to keep going.)
All summer long, we sang a song,
And then strode that golden sand
(Now, I’m getting into it. I start snapping my fingers)
Two sweethearts and the summer wind
Like painted kites, those days and nights
Went flying by-
The world was new underneath the blue umbrella sky –“
“Awright! You come in tomorrow, after school. You get paid cash every week. Tommy Boy’ll show you around. I got only two rules- show up on time - and don’t steal from me. You steal from me - I’ll cut yuh f***in’ balls off, and eat ‘em fuh dinner.”
“Capece?"
“Yeah,” echoed Tommy Boy.
When Tommy Boy and his brothers finally finish showing me around the kitchen, I ask him if I can use the bathroom.
“It’s downstairs,” he mumbles, in between long drags of his Marlboro. Then he looks at me with this weird look. I knew there was something crazy about his eyes, and now I realize what it is. They look like a dog’s eyes! They’re ice blue, like an Alaskan Huskies, and he has olive skin. It’s bizarre. It’s the kind of look, like, when a dog eyes you quizzically, but if you go near him, you don’t know if he’s going to bite your face off - or lick you.
“Hey, don’t be late tomorrow,” he grunts threateningly.
