Spoonbenders

He lay in the bunk bed, staring up at springs and slats. No new deliveries, thank goodness. The room was dark except for a crack in Buddy’s new metal window shades. What time was it?

Finally his bladder nudged him out of bed. When he climbed out of the bunk, the entire frame creaked and swayed. So maybe these weren’t the most permanent structures Buddy had built.

“Oh come on,” a voice above him said.

“Sorry,” Matty said.

Julian, the oldest of the Pusateris, made a dismissive noise through his teeth. Even in the dark he could roll his eyes. Matty had decided last night that he didn’t like him, and not just because the older boy had kicked his ass in Super Mario. Every time Uncle Buddy had walked in, Julian made a face. When Malice came down, he frowned at her and said, “Of course. A Goth.”

The other bunks, containing the two youngest Pusateris, were to his right, which meant the basement bathroom was off to his left. He started for it.

Julian said, “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing,” Matty said without looking back. He’d learned to deal with the random aggressions of older boys. School was a dog park, all the big dogs off the chain, the pups fending for themselves, and the teachers distant and useless. The trick was to keep your head down and keep moving.

“I mean all of you,” Julian said.

“Hey.” Matty wheeled to face him, propelled by a flash of anger. “You don’t know us.”

“I know what you are.” But he didn’t sound so sure. He seemed as surprised as Matty that someone younger and poorer would dare disagree with him.

“You don’t know shit. We were on TV. We’re the Amazing Telemachus Family.”

“Yeah, well do something amazing.” Julian hopped down. “I’m serious. Do something. Now.”

Matty stood his ground. “Ask me if I’ve got change for a five.”

“What?”

“Ask me. Then hand me a five-dollar bill.”

“Fuck you.”

Matty shrugged. “Fine. Forget it.”

“No, wait.” He reached into his jeans and brought out a nylon wallet. “I’ve got a ten. Will that do?”

Matty pretended to consider this. “All right. Now ask the question.”

“Do you, dick-muncher, have change for a ten?”

“Sure, mister fuckwad.” Matty folded the ten, palmed it, and unfolded the two-dollar bill. He gave it a snap and showed it to him. It was a blast to watch his face.

“What the fuck! Where’s my ten bucks? How’d you do that?”

“I’ll teach it to you for twenty,” Matty said.

“Deal.”

“Later,” Matty said. “I gotta pee.”

After the bathroom, he went upstairs. Uncle Buddy stood at the stove, twisting wads of cinnamon dough onto a cookie pan. “These will be done in a few minutes,” Buddy said. “Your mom went to the grocery store.”

“Thanks.” It was weird to have Uncle Buddy talk to him unprompted. Weird, but nice.

The house was quiet, everybody except Buddy still in their bedrooms, which was good, because Matty needed a little privacy. He went into the living room, where a half-naked Uncle Frankie lay on the couch like a drowned sailor tangled in sailcloth. Matty squatted next to him and touched his shoulder. Then he poked him.

Frankie opened one eye. It took a long time for consciousness to spread to the rest of his face.

“So?” Matty said.

“No money,” Frankie croaked.

“What?”

The second eye opened. “No. Money.”

“But the safe—”

“Empty. At least…” He shut his eyes again. “Anything useful.”

“No money,” Matty said wonderingly.

“What time is it?” Frankie asked.

“I don’t know. After eight?”

“Fuck.” Then: “Sorry.” He sat up, coughed hard. Then he looked Matty in the eye. “You didn’t see them move it or anything?”

“No! Every time somebody paid, he put it in the safe. I swear.”

Frankie looked at the floor. After a while, Matty said, “What are we going to do?”

“We’re not going to do anything,” Frankie said. “There’s nothing to do. We’re fucked.”

All this work, Matty thought. All this trouble, and there was nothing to show for it? Nothing he could give Mom?

Frankie was looking at something over Matty’s shoulder. Matty turned, and Malice was staring at them. She looked so much younger without her makeup, more fragile.

“Who are these guys?” she asked, and nodded at the window.

Matty stood up. A silver van had pulled into the driveway.

“Don’t let them in!” Matty said to Malice. He ran upstairs, thinking, They’ve come for me.

TEDDY

Someone pounded on his bedroom door. “Grandpa Teddy?” Matty said, his voice frantic. “Are you in there? Agent Smalls is here!”

Already? Teddy thought. They’d agreed on nine. “I’ll be right down,” he said. Fortunately he was already showered and dressed. He’d put on one of his best bespoke suits, a charcoal and black pinstripe merino, handmade downtown by none other than Frank DeBartolo. The tie was a purple paisley, the tie pin diamond. The gold cuff links were an award for distinguished service that he’d won from a Shriner in 1958. The final accessory remained to be chosen from the black velvet tray. But really, there was no choice at all.