Small Change

I had to climb up on a stool, and shout at Gioffo, who looked busy and irritated to see me there at this time of the night and it took him a while to come around to where I was and he squinted down at me and he said, for the others, “’ey, the kid’s buyin!” Some of them thought it was funny but most of them didn’t even pay attention and he looked down at me like he couldn’t figure what the hell, and I said, in a high, squeaky voice, Pasquale wants four cans of Ballantine’s and I put the crinkled bill on the wet bartop. Gioffo scratched his beard. He looked confused.
“You sure, kid? Pasquale don’t like Ballantine’s. Look, I’ll give you a draft, you can bring back the pail tomorrow.”
It made perfect sense, but it set me off in a panic.
“No, no. Everybody’s there. He wants Ballantine’s. For the guys, ya know?”
Gioffo nodded. “O. K., boyo. Now I’m gonna put an opener in the bag, but take care you don’t drink one on the way.” And he winked at me, and I felt my stomach sink and a few of the men laughed half-heartedly and I took the paper bag and slipped down off the stool and scuffed out through the sawdust into the summer night.
The first thing I wished was that I had another Spud menthol. I tucked the bag under my arm and felt the cold cans through the brown paper numbing my skin.
Part of me knew that Pasquale had nothing to do with this. But suppose he did? I was making movies in my head when Joey came up to me. I hadn’t seen where he came from. He was friends with my older cousins, maybe he had been inside. Maybe he was having drinks with my nonno, how did I know? So what was all that winking and yelling about?
I was on the right track and would have understood eventually, but my fantasy of riding for Wells Fargo took over. I imagined that the loud talking was just bragging about my legendary skill as a rider over dangerous terrain. Or, to put it another way, Joey was letting everyone know that I was the best beer delivery boy on the block.
By the time I straightened this out, I was very near home. I pushed the front gate open and walked carefully toward the glowing windows.
I stood in the dark vestibule and the sweat on my face turned cold. Should I knock? Should I get the hell out of there and go to the park?
I opened the door and barged in like I always did. After a while they noticed me.

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