Welcome to Asbury Park (warning: contains emo kids weeping and being murdered) (972 hits)
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Rating: 2 on 13 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Axolotl || ltoloxA (View user info) at 2006-10-27 12:27:16 EDT
Bruce Springsteen's first album, Welcome to Asbury Park, told of his youth spent in the south Jersey city of the same name, which is famous for broad, expansive boarwalks and carnival-type piers...
It was late on a warm May night, the clock over the boardwalk nearing four AM. Michael Brecher and Jeff Nolan walked down the Asbury Park boardwalk, the beautiful crisp ocean just a hundred yards of sand away. Jeff was walking in front of Michael, his hands skimming the wooden barrier, and talking.
"Dude, my guitarist said that Death Cab for Cutie totally wrecks Coheed and Cambria," Jeff complained to Michael. "Can you believe that? Total mainstream sell-out."
"Couldn't agree more," Michael replied blandly.
"My band's just released an EP, you should check it out," Jeff was saying as Michael rummaged inside his leather jacket. "The band's My Sweet September—I mean, you know that—but it's called A Crushing Abyss of Pain."
"Still together after all this time?" Michael asked in feigned interest.
"Yeah," Jeff replied. "Though our sound's kinda shifted from grindcore death-emo to a more melodic screamo-slash-emotive hardcore. Think of Bauhaus meets The Used."
"What's with the title?" asked Michael.
"It's all about pain, and inner angst," Jeff responded straight-faced. "How some people can see clearly through their pain, and anger to the truth. And cutting, too. Each year, like, forty thousand kids cut themselves, and sometimes they, like, do it on purpose."
"Yeah," Michael said, reaching into the hidden holster in his leather jacket's inside pocket. He drew out a black 9mm Glock, unsilenced and freezing.
"I can take a lot, if you know what I'm saying," said Jeff, walking leisurely along while Michael raised the gun. "I mean, I never needed any Novocain at the dentist."
And it was over.
Michael aimed the gun and shot Jeffrey Nolan in the back of the head, the short bang dissipating into the seaside air. Jeff crumpled to the ground, falling against a pile of rubbish and wood stacked up along the barrier. Somewhere, a seagull cried out high above them.
Would he leave Jeff here or bury him at sea? Michael thought. In the sand would be best. Michael kicked Jeff's body through the slats on the boardwalk, as well as the bloody pile of wood. Walking down onto the sand beneath the boardwalk, Michael dug a large pit in the grains, rolling Jeff's body into it. Making sure that he would stay covered, Michael pushed a large rock above his shallow grave. He would not be found for weeks, or months maybe. It was over.
Michael sniffed the salt air, and vomited onto the sand, clutching his stomach in surprise. He choked and heaved, aware that there was something far greater beyond his nausea.
* * *
At a small Little League baseball field in Elmwood Park, New Jersey, two men awaited their partners. Formerly known as East Paterson, Elmwood Park had tried to escape association with the huge gang-ridden city, though the occasional flurry of Bloods violence spilled over into the town.
"We're giving these Russian goons forty thousand dollars," Marcus Toussaint, a sanguine black Haitian said.
"Yes, we are," sighed Chris Virgino, second-in-command of the Dimiglio family, wearing a purple nylon running suit that clashed with his pale skin. "Oh yes, we are. Here they come, the bastards."
Pyotr Goluboy in the driver's seat and Arcady Ilyanich in the passengers, the two Russian gangsters pulled up to the park entrance. Carrying the sports bag full of bundles of cash, Marcus approached the car, and Arcady rolled down the window.
"Here you go," Marcus said angrily, delivering the money to Arcady, who clutched it to his chest. "Forty thousand American dollars, unmarked, in cash. Want me to suck your dick for you too?"
"I'm looking for revenge, not herpes, you Caribbean-refugee piece of human garbage," Arcady sneered. "Keep your nigger-lips away from me."
Marcus turned and walked away, back toward Virgino, leaving the Russians to gloat over their prize. "Know what he called me?" Marcus said in annoyance to his boss.
"Cool it, T," Virgino replied, looking at the car. "Just wait and watch."
"You should be careful of the money," Pyotr warned as Arcady inspected the immaculate rolls of $50- and $20-dollar bills.
"Why would you want to kill my joy?" Arcady replied. "Money is always good."
"I'm just saying, if this money is stolen, or if it's given in bad faith—argh!"
Pyotr's words were cut off by three ear-splitting gunshots tearing through the driver's side window. As the glass shattered, Pyotr and Arcady saw the all-too-familiar Hung Lee Kim firing into the car from two feet away.
Arcady yelped and grabbed his gun and the bag of money in one hand, and opened the door and leaped out as another bullet ricocheted off the dashboard and into Pyotr's abdomen.
Wounded in the shoulder and back, Arcady fired wildly in the air as he exited the car, but fell onto his back. Hung Lee quickly jumped and slid over the hood of the car and stood over Arcady's trembling body.
"I told you to leave, Russian pig-man!" Hung Lee said furiously, reaching down and prying the bag of money from Arcady's hands. "I take my money back!"
As Arcady raised his hands to defend himself, Hung Lee leveled his gun and fired four times, his last bullets, into Arcady's chest, killing him with the shots. Hung Lee immediately raised the smoking gun to face level and breathed deeply, Arcady going limp beneath him.
Pierced with bullets, Pyotr stomped on the gas, roaring off down the lane. Hung Lee cursed and quickly tried to reload, but it was too late; the Russian had escaped. "I told you not to let him get away!" Virgino shouted. "You wasted all your fucking bullets pumping into that one guys' chest you missed the other! Get in the car, we gotta leave before the cops come."
Hung Lee was furious with himself, but hoped that Pyotr couldn't make it too far.
It was only a short drive up to Ridgewood for Pyotr, but his mind was racing, trying to stay alive. He had been hit with multiple bullets and was bleeding all over the driver's seat, not to mention the broken glass in his face.
In the Malley household Alexa was worried about Jeff, and when she saw the car pull up outside her house, she ran out, hoping it was him. She stopped on the driveway as she saw the shattered windows, and the man stepping out that wasn't Jeff...it was the Russian her dad had helped two days earlier.
The Russian's face was slashed, and part of his nose was torn off. He stretched a hand out for help, and she saw his hand was mangled by a bullet wound, and another gunshot wound was leaking blood profusely from his stomach.
"Dad! Dad! Help!" Alexa screamed, running inside. The Russian collapsed, his breathing shallow.
John Malley ran out of his house, pistol gripped firmly between his fingers, expecting a threat, but catching the sight of Pyotr's bullet-ridden body. Groaning, John pushed past his daughter and sank down to Pyotr, turning him on his side so he wouldn't aspirate on his blood.
"Call 911, Alexa," John commanded, snapping open his own cell phone and dialing Virgil.
* * *
It was a week after he had left, and Michael Brecher was back in North Jersey, walking out of the FBI office in Paterson. They had been grilling him over the Ridgefield Park massacre, and Michael was dreading the day they would ask about Paul Ciceri.
Michael stepped onto the corner of Market Street and 14th near Paterson's industrial center, when all of a sudden a voice called, "Yo, Michael! What are you doing?"
Michael turned and saw Virgil O'Duinen Jr., son of the Paterson mob boss, looking between him and the FBI offices Michael had just exited, putting two and two together. "Hey, Virgil," Michael called back, stepping across the crosswalk. "Hey, I gotta go, catching a bus. Talk to you soon!"
"Hold on a sec..." Virgil said.
It was like getting caught doing something bad during school again, Michael thought, as his heart beat rapidly and his stomach tightened. Would Virgil think that he was an informant? Should he go back and try to explain himself? No...Michael pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Alex Collins' number. He needed a good hitman, but John Broadus was too loyal to the family; Collins was loyal to money.
"Alex, I gotta call in a hit on a guy," Michael said hurriedly. "I can pay a hell of a lot for it."
* * *
For the second time within a week, John Malley was at another conference with his two deputies at Godfather Gambetta's offices on the Lower East Side.
"So I'm fairly sure I made myself clear," John said angrily to the five other men in the room. "We agreed that the Russians would be given money for their trouble and would go away, not be gunned down in cold blood!"
"What is the state of the Russians?" Gambetta asked. "Is there a witness."
"Pyotr survived," John said. "He claims Virgino set him up, and had him and Arcady shot in their car. Arcady died of his wounds at the scene."
"Is this true?" Gambetta asked.
"Entirely, one hundred percent true," Virgino answered without a trace of regret. "Hung Lee is my highest earner, and I couldn't stand to have him abused by the Sullivan Family and the Russian goons. The Russians also made a racist comment against another high earner, Marcus Toussaint."
"You're full of shit, Virgino," McMichael growled.
"We made an agreement here," Malley said, his voice rising. "Are we not men of honor, or have the old principles gone out the window? Virgino broke a solemn promise, and if you don't do anything about this, Godfather, I'm prepared to call a conference of the Five Families and appeal to them!"
"I admire your nerve," Gambetta laughed. "You remind me of me at your age. You're only forty-six, John?"
"Forty-six a week ago, yes," Malley replied coldly. "I will go to the Five Families over this, Godfather, with all due respect. The Russians are a known associate of my family, and an offense against them is the same as an offense against me. Why is it acceptable to attack my associates, but not Carmine's?"
"Because, John," Carmine answered in utter condescension. "I need my associates far more than you do, seeing how you nearly destroyed my family last Christmas and are now moving in on my final Bronx holdings."
"True, John," Gambetta agreed. "Shall I arrange a meeting with the heads of the Five Families?"
"Yes, you should," John said, trying to control his anger. Virgil was glaring coldly at Galantro. "For nothing else than to provide some kind of semblance of honor."
"You know it's funny John is talking about honor and all this about old beliefs, old traditions," Virgino piped up. "Especially when John's own family breaks the code of silence with regularity."
"We deal with all our FBI informants quickly and quietly," Virgil said in pride. "That's my job. Victor Paul, Patrick Coyle...we get 'em quick and do our things. No one ever knows. No FBI informers can survive in the family while I'm around."
Virgino laughed and said, "Tell that to Michael Brecher!"
There was a stone-cold silence at the table, and even Gambetta looked awkwardly away. "Would you mind clarifying?" Virgil said icily.
"Nothing, nothing..." Virgino muttered, a broad smile spreading across his face.
"I don't think you appreciate Michael's contributions to the family," Don McMichael growled. "Ever since he married Virgil's daughter in '95, Michael's been with us through it all. He saved my life years ago, and we made him for that. He's our counselor and advisor, and he'd never host a radio show to the feds. Not after eleven years."
"And Paul was with you for thirty-five years," Virgino said blandly. "Just sayin', is all."
"The issue is not Michael," John snapped. "The issue is the murder of my associate, Arcady. Carmine, I will be taking this dispute before the Five Families, so you know."
"And I'll be there," Carmine replied. "I'll be there."
"I'm glad we can come to an understanding about something," said John.
THE FAITHFUL
Part 1: Old Bones http://www.ubersite.com/m/94960
Part 2: Welcome to Asbury Park
Part 3: He Hath Given His Only Son
Part 4: Cairo
Part 5: The White Sand On the Beach
Part 6: Finale
User Reviews
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-11-02 07:54:23 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Chroniclysm (user info) at 2006-11-02 00:35:56 (#)
Ranking: 2
In a lot of ways, Asbury Park is one of the toughest spots on the Jersey Shore these days. Low income, high drug use, crime, cornered ethnic communities etc.
I'm not gonna lie, though. I still love AP. Some great restaurants, some good people, and always a great bluntride.
Rich fuckers livin' on the beach with kids in private school need somebody to keep reality in some kind of check.
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Yeah, and places like Seaside Heights and Tom's River aren't getting any better either. But you can't forget the Stone Pony; ever run into Springsteen there?
Submitted by Chroniclysm (user info) at 2006-11-02 00:35:56 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
In a lot of ways, Asbury Park is one of the toughest spots on the Jersey Shore these days. Low income, high drug use, crime, cornered ethnic communities etc.
I'm not gonna lie, though. I still love AP. Some great restaurants, some good people, and always a great bluntride.
Rich fuckers livin' on the beach with kids in private school need somebody to keep reality in some kind of check.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-11-01 21:53:58 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by awesome_face (user info) at 2006-10-28 00:03:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Fuck Sopranos, Malleys get what they want cause they earned it.
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-10-27 14:34:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
What part of Jersey are you from Leilani?
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-10-27 14:21:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by leilani (user info) at 2006-10-27 14:10:14 (#)
Ranking: 2
lock your doors if you ever want to tour asbury park as well, it's tres ghetto these days
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sad to hear that. i preferred seaside heights anyway.
Submitted by leilani (user info) at 2006-10-27 14:10:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
lock your doors if you ever want to tour asbury park as well, it's tres ghetto these days
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-10-27 13:38:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Scourge, -2 this. Glad you broke streak.
Submitted by TigerLilly (user info) at 2006-10-27 12:35:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-10-27 12:33:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Beano312003 (user info) at 2006-10-27 12:30:12 (#)
Ranking: 2
Ax... TAKE A DAY OFF MATE.
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I'm finishing up this within the week, I have to just get it off my hard drive.
Submitted by professorfuckface (user info) at 2006-10-27 12:30:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
STOP STOP
Submitted by Beano312003 (user info) at 2006-10-27 12:30:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Ax... TAKE A DAY OFF MATE.
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-10-27 12:27:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Four installments to go...and it's over, finally.