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Time Out – Chapter 2

Posted in erbooker by erbooker on 07/08/2015

Newark

Rebecca Bruzzi is fresh out of law school and looking to start a career. Rebecca’s mob boss father hopes that career is as the family lawyer.

Chapter Two – Job Interview

Rebecca Bruzzi’s boyfriend, jazz radio station DJ Eugene Meadowlark, is driving her out of Newark and into rural New Jersey, in the opposite direction of her job interview that morning at prestigious Manhattan law firm, Cleft & Periwinkle.

“Biggest opportunity of my life and I’m gonna be late. Unbelievable. Thanks for driving me, by the way.”

“One of the perks of hosting a nighttime radio show. Still don’t know why you couldn’t just meet with the old man after your interview.”

“One thing you learn growing up in the Bruzzi household: The Don summons you, you show up.”


Frank Bruzzi meets his daughter in the driveway of his Lawrenceburg compound with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He motions toward Eugene parking the car and getting out.

“Who’s the moulinyan, your driver?”

“Jesus Christ, dad. That’s my boyfriend, Eugene. You’ve met him like five times. And no more of that m-word.”

Frank chuckles & holds his hands up. “Alright, alright. I just didn’t know that was still going on. You’re about to become a big-city attorney. You should be dating Astons & Rockefellers. If it’s gotta be a black, date LeBron’s kid.”

“Think he’s in middle school, dad.”

“Hey, Mr. Bruzzi.”

Frank firmly shakes Eugene’s hand, looking for a wince that doesn’t come. “Eugene. How’s the wonderful world of, uh…”

Rebecca coughs, “Radio DJ.”

“…radio DJing.”

“It’s good, Mr. Bruzzi.”

“What station you at again?”

“WJZZ.”

“Jizz?”

“Jazz, sir.”

Frank tosses an arm around his daughter’s shoulder and leads her toward the gardens, while his henchmen eye Eugene suspiciously.

“So I need a lawyer.”

“You have a lawyer, dad.”

“Schweitzmann isn’t a lawyer. He’s a schmuck.”

“Daddy, Arnold’s been the family lawyer for thirty years.”

“Yeah, but he ain’t family. You are.”

“Oh no. Oh hell no.”

“You don’t even know what I’m thinkin’ yet.”

“I always know what you’re thinking. And it’s not happening. I went to law school to make something of myself. On my own. Not to get sucked into the family business.”

“These charges, Becky. They’re serious.”

“And Arnold can handle them. He always has. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m late for a job interview.”

“Yeah, alright. Whatever. Don’t forget your chauffeur.”


Rebecca races into the marble-floored Midtown Manhattan lobby of the Hamilton Building, its top floors home to Cleft & Periwinkle. Junior partner Tucker Rondeaux meets her with a grin as she apologizes profusely. In a sprawling conference room on the 22nd floor a silver-haired older gentleman in a pin-striped vest shakes hands with Rebecca and he and Tucker sit across from her.

“Mr. Periwinkle, thank you for meeting with me.”

“Ms. Bruzzi, I’m going to cut right to the chase. We’re working with the Feds in the case against your father and we’d like you to turn state’s evidence against him.”

Rebecca chokes on her words like a hiccup before meekly responding, “…oh.”


Late that evening outside the offices of radio station WJZZ, DJ Eugene Meadowlark is returning to his car with a crate of old records when he’s cut off by an older Italian man sporting a bowling shirt and a white pompadour with black streaks, holding a baseball bat. Frank Bruzzi’s capo & Rebecca’s uncle Johnnie Bruzzi grins, smacking the bat against his palm.

“Hello, Eugene.”


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