The Coming of Fabrizze: A Novel (Black Squirrel Books) (13 page)

“What will become of this money?” said Grace.

“It all depends,” said Vivolo. “It may furnish the basis for another thousand.”

“And two more?” said Grace.

“A hundred more,” said Vivolo. “Up we go.”

“Why should my shoes be under the bed?” said Fabrizze. “It's time to be up and running a little. I have ideas.”

“I know the ideas,” said Grace. “You'll gather with the left hand and give with the right.”

“I'll buy more land,” said Fabrizze. “I'll send more money to Augustine. I'll have money to help these people when they come.”

“Buy a ship,” said Grace, bursting into laughter. “Buy a ship of your own. Bring them all here.”

“Look who's calling,” said Fabrizze. “Look who's here.”

“A lovely idea,” said Vivolo. “You can call for the poor in every port of the world.”

“And I spoke with Mancini,” said Fabrizze. “He's bringing a builder of houses to see me. Spronzi is his name. Spronzi says it's cheaper to build in quantity. Five houses will be almost as cheap as three. Ten houses all at once will be cheaper than seven one by one.”

“And a thousand will cost nothing at all,” said Grace. “What else did Spronzi say?”

“He heard a rumor from Poggio,” said Fabrizze. “He heard that I was opening five more stores in the city. He asked for one in his neighborhood. Poggio took his address.”

“Give him our address,” said Grace. “Did Mancini tell you the foundation goes on sinking? Did he tell you the whole house seems to be resting on the one beam? The beam that makes a funny noise when you tap it?”

“Remember Mendone,” said Fabrizze. “A bit of faith.”

“Up, up, up,” Vivolo was saying. “Up we go.”

“Let me finish the dishes,” said Grace. “And then we'll fly away together.”

Vivolo took Fabrizze out for a walk. They went round the block and stopped in front of the house. Grace watched them. Vivolo was talking. He became so excited that he was dancing round Fabrizze. They set off again and returned to the same spot. They were dancing round each other.

“I didn't make a thousand,” said Vivolo. “I had the very same stock, Fabrizze, but I bought a thousand shares. I bought it on the margin. I took your advice. I made ten thousand dollars!”

“Ten thousand dollars? The margin? Hold still.”

“The margin,” said Vivolo. “Listen then. The margin makes it possible to buy a dollar's worth of stock for ten cents. The broker stands behind you if you have a little money in reserve. You play for ten times as much simply by increasing the risk. If the stock falls, of course, you have to cover the loss to keep control. But I knew it wouldn't fall. And guess what? I have another stock in mind. I've been watching it for weeks. A peach ripe on the tree.”

“Hold still,” said Fabrizze. “Tell me about it.”

“It cost thirty dollars a share,” said Vivolo. “Nine thousand dollars will buy three thousand shares on the margin. And still I'll have money in reserve to cover a break. You follow me? This stock will move twelve to twenty points in the next month. At the least! It means there's a chance to make thirty thousand dollars in a month! Thirty thousand!”

“Or sixty,” said Fabrizze. “Hold still.”

“Can we do it?” said Vivolo. “Can we do it?”

“We'll go together,” said Fabrizze. “Let's buy it. Josephine is bringing a few dollars here. Gritti left fifty in a sock. We'll make money for them, too.”

“Come to the exchange,” said Vivolo. “Be there with me. We'll each buy a block of fifteen hundred shares!”

“Come inside, come inside,” said Fabrizze. “We'll spend the profits with Grace again!”

Excitement gripped the neighborhood. The news was like a bonfire throwing light and warmth into every house. Rumbone and Mancini flashed the word that Fabrizze had won nine hundred dollars in five weeks. He had increased their money by half! And never once did they leave the store! And it was just beginning! And Fabrizze was still learning about it! And everyone was welcome to join in! And Poggio went even further with it.

“I gave Fabrizze nothing,” said Poggio. “Not a cent. I owed him the forty dollars. And now he owes me twenty. It's a miracle. We never left the store. It starts again next week. All we do is send Vivolo downtown.”

A sudden breath-taking rush was on.

Friends brought money to the house on Jackson Street. Grace and Fabrizze were bewildered by the amounts. Grace tried to discourage them. They would have none of it. Their passion mounted with each warning. Fabrizze realized that he had lost control of it. Everyone had been waiting for a chance to put in with him.

Josephine started it by coming with four hundred dollars knotted into a handkerchief. Grace had to cut the knots. She was astounded when she saw the money spill forth.

“Why so much?” said Grace. “Why do you keep it at home?”

“I have more in the bank,” said Josephine. “I'm afraid to go there by myself. This is from the wine and the boarders.”

“Why do you need more?” said Grace. “Tell me why.”

“I don't understand,” said Josephine.

“Why do you need more money?” said Grace.

“But I want it!” said Josephine. “I want it!”

“Be satisfied with what you have,” said Grace.

“I might as well die and be done with it!”

Poggio arrived with a handkerchief. Grace had to cut the knots. Within was another handkerchief and within was his weekly pay of twenty dollars. Rumbone came with two hundred dollars. Mancini delivered a hundred. Salupo offered fifty. Penza counted out forty and then he added seventy-five cents in change.

“We'll be together in it,” said Penza.

“Take back the change,” said Fabrizze. “What's happening?”

“I'm going upstairs,” said Grace. “It's too much for me.”

She missed Gritti who came with a hundred.

“I was holding it back,” said Gritti. “And then I heard what Josephine was bringing. I came right over.”

“Keep it, keep it,” said Fabrizze. “You gave the fifty.”

“I gave it too late,” said Gritti. “Now I'm giving before you start again. I had the money under my father's picture. He died with a shovel in his hands. He was digging in a field. ‘It's deep enough,' he said. And he fell in. I was thinking of it. And there I was with a shovel in my hands. I'm sick of it! Take the money. Do your best!”

Last to come was Cardino. He was investigating the reports. He could make no sense of what Poggio had been telling him. Poggio cornered him again.

“Here he is,” said Poggio. “I figured it out for him. I have it on paper. Right here.”

“What, what?” said Cardino. “What's happening?”

“It's that money you saved,” said Poggio. “You worked thirty years for two hundred dollars. I figured it out for you. You're fifty years old. Listen then. You'll have a thousand dollars when you're two hundred years old!”

“Don't make him nervous,” said Fabrizze.

“But what are these stocks?” said Cardino.

“Steel and oil!” said Poggio.

“Please, Poggio, please!” said Fabrizze.

“Tell me, Fabrizze, tell me!” said Cardino, pounding the table.

“Pork and wool!” said Poggio.

“Is it true what I hear?” said Cardino.

“It's the ticker!” said Poggio. “They'll never keep us away!”

“Madonna mia!” said Josephine. “Madonna mia!”

In the following week Fabrizze spent no time in the store. He and Vivolo bought three thousand shares of the stock. Day after day they were caught up in the smoke and fury of the exchange.

Their stock held steady. It went up a point and down a point. They had just about given up hope for the week when the stock jumped into action. It taught them a lesson. It shot up five points on a single sale. They turned away to congratulate each other. A cry went up from the announcer. The stock soared five points more.

Vivolo put in an order to sell at the market.

“I'm taking the profit,” he said. “Are you selling?”

“But you said twelve to twenty points,” said Fabrizze. “Wait, Vivolo, wait. Next week it will go higher!”

Fabrizze left the exchange.

He met Poggio who was being sent as a runner for news. They went to the store. Fabrizze loaded Mancini and Bassetti with cheese and ham and sausage and cookies. He emptied two cans of origan into a barrel of black olives. He tossed in a bag of dried hot peppers and put the cover on the barrel.

“Where is this going?” said Rumbone.

“To the house,” said Fabrizze. “Close the store. A breath of air. Let's be in the sun. And we'll have a party.”

“Did we win?” said Rumbone. “But how much?”

“I didn't count,” said Fabrizze. “Over four thousand.”

Rumbone sat down on a sack of beans. He looked as if he had been clubbed. His eyes filled with tears.

Poggio hurried off to serve the last customer. The man cried out for provolone.

“How much a pound?” he said.

“Forty cents,” said Poggio.

“Thirty I'll give!”

“Thirty-eight!” said Poggio.

“Thirty-two!”

“Twenty-five!” said Fabrizze. “Sold, sold!”

They were packing him off.

“What's wrong with the cheese?” he was saying.

“Nothing, nothing. Come again. Show your face again.”

“You'll get me next time, eh?” he was saying.

They closed the store and rolled the barrel across the bridge. Everyone saw them coming. Poggio pointed to the barrel and flung his arms wide as though it was all over. Grace was at the window. Her mouth fell open. Paul was running to meet his father.

“Another thousand?” said Grace.

“And more,” said Fabrizze. “We'll have a party.”

The house creaked and groaned with it.

Fabrizze stayed in the kitchen with Bassetti. The old man was giving him a massage.

“Soon I'll have just the right touch,” said Bassetti. “I'll steal the pain, and you'll never know it.”

Fabrizze slipped five dollars into his pocket.

“Put it in the stocks,” said Bassetti, smiling. “You bring a new language, my boy. Thousand and five thousand. Ten and twenty thousand. It's a new language for us.”

From the basement came the throb of the guitar in a tarantella. The dancers shook the house. There were cries of delight. Poggio was dancing on the barrel.

Cardino carried his chair into the corner and sat in front of Vivolo. He was so thrilled by the report of the ten thousand dollars that he could think of nothing to say. He put his hand on Vivolo and leaned forward. He tried to speak.

“Why are you squeezing my leg?” said Vivolo.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” said Cardino.

He began to talk. Words gushed forth. He told the story of his life. He shook his fist. He was too small to make trouble and too big to hide. He kept shoveling and drinking and shoveling.

“You have no children?” said Vivolo.

“Not one,” said Cardino. “Wait, wait. Come closer. Can you tell me something? Is there a way?”

“But there are ways and ways,” said Vivolo.

“Tell me.”

“Listen then,” said Vivolo. “It will take three days and two nights. She mustn't work during that time. Every six hours a hot bath. And then she rests. She saves herself. A bit of music.”

“Music, music,” said Cardino. “This is good.”

“A glass or two of red wine,” said Vivolo.

“Red wine!”

“It's the end of the third day,” said Vivolo. “She'll take a glass of hot wine. A spoonful of sugar for the blood. She'll take another glass. And then another. And then another.”

“Four glasses?”

“Or more,” said Vivolo.

“And then? But don't I know? Bravo, Cardino!”

“Why are you squeezing my leg?” said Vivolo.

“Tell the rest, tell the rest!”

“Send for me,” said Vivolo. “Send for me!”

Tony Cucuzza was playing another tarantella.

F
ABRIZZE was right.

The stock went on climbing and he made twice as much money as Vivolo. He sold it. Vivolo found another stock. Fabrizze plunged in again. He was going down to the exchange with the air of one blazing a trail. Vivolo remarked that he was making an adventure of it.

“It's not good to risk everything,” said Vivolo. “You should always keep money in reserve. Safety first.”

“Safety first?” said Fabrizze. “But you surprise me. Safety first? We would never leave our beds.”

“Listen then,” said Vivolo. “You remember the oil stock? The company didn't strike oil. It was a rumor. The stock went up ten points on the strength of it. And then the truth came through. Do you know what happened? The stock slipped back two points. Only two points! And then it jumped five more!”

“Why did it jump again?” said Fabrizze.

“News from the company,” said Vivolo. “The company sent word it was drilling with high hope. Do you understand? It's enough that the company was drilling!”

“And nothing happened?”

“They struck oil,” said Vivolo. “But you miss the point.”

“They struck it,” said Fabrizze, laughing. “The oil was there all the time. Good for them! And what about this new stock? What are they doing?”

“Chopping and sawing,” said Vivolo, gravely. “It's a pulp and paper stock. They own so much timber land that only the sun sees it in a day. They're chopping.”

“And hope is high,” said Fabrizze.

“So it is,” said Vivolo.

It was even higher in the neighborhood.

Sweet summer swept the sky blue for its reign of gold. The air was clear and sparkling as wine. It seemed to crackle with good hot news. Nothing came as a surprise. Tales were carried into every corner of the city. Rumbone passed along thousands of dollars with each bag of groceries sold in the store.

“Did you say thirty thousand?” said Ravello, ironically. “Why stop at thirty? Why not say a hundred? Say a million, my friend, and be done with it. Why are you looking like that?”

“I made a mistake,” said Rumbone. “Why didn't I borrow money from Josephine? I'm a fool.”

“You're looking at a fool,” said Ravello. “Here comes a fool through the door. Fabrizze is making fools of us all!”

Thousands of dollars more Rumbone scattered in the course of his evening round of visits. One night he was bound for the house of Cardino with news and wine flaming inside him. He met Cardino coming to visit him.

“Thousand, thousand,” said Rumbone. “Let's go to your house. I'll blow you up like a balloon.”

On the way they met Poggio. Poggio was carrying the newspaper and panic to the house of Josephine.

“Thousand, thousand,” said Poggio.

“Cats and dogs,” said Rumbone.

“Up, up,” said Poggio.

“Higher and higher,” said Rumbone.

“The bull is running wild,” said Poggio. “I'll be with you in an hour. Keep the wine cool.”

Rumbone and Cardino arrived and drank several toasts.

“One more month,” said Rumbone. “One more month like the last and it's all over. You'll be left scratching your head.”

“But I'm giving the money,” said Cardino.

“How much?” said Rumbone.

“I have a hundred dollars in the cupboard,” said Cardino.

“I don't even turn my head for a hundred,” said Rumbone. “A hundred? But you said it was two hundred.”

“It is two hundred,” said Cardino.

“How tricky you are,” said Rumbone. “Is it really two?”

“Or more, as they say. I'm bringing it to Fabrizze. I have it ready. Come with me.”

“Let me finish the wine,” said Rumbone. “Down with the wine. Up with the stocks. Down with the wine.”

“Look at these hands,” said Cardino. “All you see is work and work and work. Last night I was thinking about it. And then I had this dream. These hands were growing. They were getting dark and strong. Dark and strong. They were doing things all by themselves. Terrible things. And then they were reaching for me!”

“You need a physic.”

“Let's go to Fabrizze,” said Cardino.

“Wait for Poggio.”

“He'll be there,” said Cardino. “He's everywhere.”

It was true. Poggio was on the run with the big torch of rumor. He left everything in flames. He made the rounds before and after work as though it was a kind of mission. His first stop was for breakfast at the house of Josephine.

“Thirty, thirty,” he said, bursting in.

His eyes were like diamonds behind the bloom of his nose. He kissed Josephine and loosened the knot of her apron. He let water run in the sink. Josephine turned to shut the faucet. Poggio lifted a napkin and saw freshly baked bread and sugar doughnuts. He rapped the door from the inside.

“Come in, come in,” said Josephine.

“Thirty, thirty, thirty,” said Poggio, rubbing his hands. “How much is twelve and twelve and six?”

“Thirty,” said Josephine, pouring coffee.

“Thirty thousand then,” said Poggio.

The old lady almost poured coffee into his lap. She asked him to write it down on a shopping bag. The black number was dancing. Josephine felt the old clutching pain in her side.

“Where is this pain?” said Poggio. “In the right side? Near the pocket? But you haven't heard the latest. This is the news of two days ago.”

“And yesterday?” said Josephine.

“Just so, just so,” said Poggio.

“But what happened yesterday?”

“How she goes to the heart of it,” said Poggio. “But who knows what happened yesterday? Perhaps he seized control.”

“Seized control?”

“Of it all!” cried Poggio. “Do it, Fabrizze, do it!” Josephine made it back to the stove. Poggio pounded the door.

“And here's Fabrizze!” he cried, whipping open the door.

Josephine hurried there.

Poggio opened the ice box. He saw green onions and a ripe red tomato sitting on a cake of ice. He coughed as he closed the door.

“Let's eat and wait for him,” said Poggio. “Pretty soon he'll be going downtown. We'll cheer him on. Vivolo will be wearing the new hat. Wait till you see it…. This coffee, Josephine, this coffee. It's like wine! An omelet would be nice with it.”

“I hear your father threw you out,” said Josephine.

“A little argument,” said Poggio. “I forgot the bills again. I gave the pay to Fabrizze. They shut off the gas and lights.”

“Your poor father,” said Josephine. “And he can hardly move with the rheumatism.”

“The other night he was waiting for me beside the candle. What a face! Eyes all blood! The veins in his neck like ropes! I was so frightened I blew out the candle and ran away! But now it's all right. I borrowed from Fabrizze and paid the bills.”

“Make the omelet then,” said Josephine. “Just the thought of Fabrizze makes me hungry. Can you find the eggs?”

Poggio found everything.

“A bit of green onion fried in oil,” he said. “Two slices of tomato. Salt and hot pepper. A sprinkling of cheese. In with the eggs. Look at this bread! All gold and light as a feather!”

“Two eggs for me,” said Josephine. “How hungry I am! Listen, listen: what's that?”

“Igino's playing,” said Poggio. “It's the signal. Come to the window. Look, look: there they are! Look at the stride of them!”

Fabrizze and Vivolo were swinging by. They walked beside each other and yet it seemed that Fabrizze would spring free and be gone in the hot brilliant blue of morning. The sun poured gold on his flashing hair. Vivolo was moving in the soft sure way of a dancer. His pale gray hat was like a huge pearl.

Windows and doors were flung open on both sides of the street. Greetings showered down. Salupo leaned out the window in his underwear. He shook his fist.

“Way, Fabrizze! Do it then!”

“They go again, eh?” said another.

“O, Fabrizze!” said Josephine. “O, Fabrizze!”

“A clear head!”

“Take hold!”

“Good fortune to you!” said Lucia.

“Madonna mia,” said Josephine, leaning on Poggio. “The look of him makes me dizzy. He's on fire!”

“Take it all!” said Poggio.

They swept round the corner out of sight.

Poggio went to the store for a while. He left in the afternoon and stopped for a snack with Lucia. Lucia was pregnant.

“How are you feeling?” said Poggio. “I brought you a bag of wild onions. You had a taste for them, eh?”

“I'll save some for you,” said Lucia.

“Everything will be ready for the baby,” said Poggio. “What a time to be born. He'd be laughing if he knew…. Pass the cheese.”

“I felt him move,” said Lucia. “He kicked!”

“It's for joy,” said Poggio. “Do you know that your husband has over five hundred dollars? I swear it! How he's changed. He won't lift a hammer in the store. He turns away if a customer is coughing. I have to wait on the sick ones. He rubs his hands with olive oil and washes them every hour. And he's ordering a new suit from Salupo. All silk underneath…. I'll try the cake.”

Poggio bought a newspaper and went to see Gritti. He was reading aloud as he came through the door. The latest report was frantic and precise.

“Listen, listen,” said Poggio. “The stocks went up! All the records broken! Common and preferred! Up, up, up! Steel and oil! Pork and sugar! Cats and dogs! Beans and macaroni! The bears have a bull by the tail! The bull is dragging them away!”

Gritti sat there in underwear soaked with sweat. His face was black with a growth of beard. His chin sank into the dark mass of his chest hair. Poggio danced round the kitchen. He drank glass after glass of wine. Gritti was watching him like a spider.

“How lucky you are,” said Poggio. “But look at you. What have they done to you? It's like someone threw a shovelful of dirt in your face. And how hot it is in here. Wine should be kept in a cool place. It's like a furnace. But what have they done to you? Quit that job. A curse on the railroad! Fabrizze will open a store for you. But you'll open your own, eh?”

Gritti gave a cry and caught Poggio by the leg. Snarling and squeezing, he brought the young man to his knees.

“I want the truth out of you!” said Gritti. “Tell me everything! What's happening down there? The truth!”

“Stop, stop,” said Poggio. “Listen then. You gave a hundred and fifty dollars. It was enough to buy seventy shares on the margin. Or more. The stock sold for twenty and jumped twenty. Or more. You made a thousand dollars! Or less. I swear it! Fabrizze has it marked down!”

“A thousand dollars,” said Gritti, stricken. “A thousand.”

“Fabrizze knows what you have,” said Poggio. “Better yet, he knows what you need. You need a cooler house in the summer. How do you stand this place? Take a deep breath. Sweat and babies and garlic. And you need a different job. Look at you. And you need a bath, I swear it!”

Poggio was already through the door.

He finished his whirlwind tour by visiting Grace. He accepted an invitation to supper. Grace was waiting for Fabrizze. No longer did she know what to expect.

“Did you hear the latest?” said Poggio. “Fabrizze is buying a big harmonica for Igino. It weighs fifty pounds. Igino will clamp it to his shoulders.”

“So it's you with the rumors,” said Grace, laughing.

“I lie a little and then I find out it's true,” said Poggio.

“It's happening too fast,” said Grace.

“I can't keep up with Fabrizze,” said Poggio. “He's a wonder, Grace. Everyone speaks of him. Everyone waits for him. You should see it when he gets on the trolley. I was with him one morning. The people know him already. They nod and smile. Everyone begins to talk. The men tell him their troubles. He sent one of them to Rossi for a job. The women show him their babies. One girl was showing him her leg. She said it was sprained. Vivolo and I looked over and she called us scoundrels.”

“Wait, wait,” said Grace. “I hear the trolley. He's coming, Poggio, he's coming.”

“Watch the corner,” said Poggio, going to the window. “Watch the corner at Harrison Street. Look, look. A window goes up. Salupo is there. Josephine stops rocking. And here he comes! Vivolo is behind him!”

“It's good news,” said Grace. “I see it in their walk.”

“But he's coming back!” said Gritti, as though expecting that Fabrizze had been swallowed up somewhere.

Friends were gathering. They followed Fabrizze into the house. Glasses of wine were raised again and again. They watched Fabrizze. He ran his hands through his hair. The lights of gold deepened the blue of his eyes. He smiled and smiled. He aimed his finger here and there at the empty glasses. Poggio went round and round filling them from a gallon.

“He won, he won,” said Cardino.

“All of us won,” said Fabrizze. “Hundreds, hundreds.”

“You'll go back?” said Gritti. “I can't believe it.”

“They'll never keep us away,” said Poggio. “Never, never.”

“And tomorrow?” said Josephine. “Will it be the same?”

“It should be better,” said Vivolo.

“But it's like a story,” said Cardino. “It's like a story in this America.”

“Take me with you,” said Poggio. “Take me downtown.” “Take me,” said Grace, filled with sudden delight.

“Tomorrow may be the best day of all,” said Fabrizze. So it was.

On the first day the stock went up five and down three and up four. The next morning it opened three points higher and then it jumped three more. Vivolo sold it. He put in a rush order to buy two other stocks.

“But why did you sell? said Fabrizze. “You told me it was good and now you get rid of it.”

“It's a hot potato,” said Vivolo. “I don't like what's happening to it.”