Benny & Ray 133

Vecchio Brothers

My brother and I slowly perused through the rows of classic cars.  I sipped on my three dollar cup of Pepsi, and nibbled on my oversized pretzel, careful not to drop any mustard on myself or the floor.  Ray had a cotton candy.  This whole scene took me back to high school, middle school, even.  When we were small, Pop would take us.  But when we got older, Ray and I used to go to every car show we could get to by El or by bus, just the Vecchio brothers, hanging out together.

I poked Ray’s elbow.  “Check that out,” I said.

“What the hell is that? Looks like something right out of ‘Speed Racer’!”

“You don’t know?”

“Nah.”

“Are you serious?”

“Look, I don’t know, alright?”

“That’s the Shelby/Cooper King Cobra!”

“That’s the King Cobra? I heard of those; I just never seen one.  Wow.”

“Yeah.  Wow.”  The car was pretty much a hard-on on wheels.  It was hand-formed out tubular aluminum.  The engine was a beast.  Compression was 10.5:1 for mOT6 power, with four twin Weber downdraught carburetors.  “You know, only 12 cars were made and only 3 are known to survive. Must be worth millions, I bet.”

Ray headed right for the guy standing next to the car.  “Hey, how you doin’?” he said.  I listened to him rattle off a bunch of questions to the guy, while I kind of hung back and circled around the car, getting an eye full.  I had to smile at myself.  It wouldn’t change between Ray and me; whenever I was around him, he was the talker and I was the quiet one.

I had flown in yesterday morning, a few days early for Thanksgiving, for a couple of reasons.  Number 1, Uncle Lorenzo’s will, after a long delay, was finally going to be read tomorrow morning. We had to get down to his accountant’s office at 8 o’clock.  I had gotten a letter from Mr. Green’s office specifically requesting my presence, so I assumed I was being left something.  Lorenzo and I used to be pretty close back in the day.  He never had kids of his own, so I was like his son.  A few of the Vecchios from Indiana were coming up, too, Ray had told me.  Should be interesting. To be perfectly honest with you, I didn’t care for the Vecchios too much.  They were kind of a cold people.  Other than Lorenzo, I really didn’t know them that well.  We always hung with Ma’s side of the family.

Number 2, Ray had told me about this car show he wanted to take me to.  I hadn’t been to Joliet in ages.  The little town certainly had grown up a lot since then.  The civic center was huge; it was a nice place to go to a car show.  The cars were displayed on the floor, with lots of food vendors and merchants around the periphery.  Rock music blasted over the PA system.

We moved on, proceeding down a row that displayed a sleek, ultra-cool black Mercedes Benz 560 SEC; a gleaming teal-blue 1958 Plymouth Fury—sweet!—and a 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air.  It was red, with orange flames painted on the front.  We stopped and chatted with the Bel Air’s owner, a big red-haired fellow with a barrel chest.  Again, I let Ray do the talking. 

The guy said he had rescued the car from the junk yard a few years ago, and so far had put about forty grand into it.  The car was souped up with new suspension arms and 2-inch drop spindles. He had outfitted the rear with custom semi-elliptical leaf springs to drop the rear to match the lowered front.  The new low center of gravity made the car handle like a dream, he said.  The engine he modified with a B&M Roots-type supercharger. A narrowed 9-inch Ford axle with Posi-traction limited-slip differential sat at the rear, along with 13-inch wide Mickey Thompson street tires. It was making me drool.  It was making my old reliable Toyota Camry back at home look like a real stick-in-the-mud. Man, I had to get one of these babies.  I knew somebody who knew somebody who was selling a ’55 Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud that needed a new engine and a ton of body work. Maybe I’d look into when I got home.  The cars back then- they were works of art.  Not like today.   

We kept on moving down the line.  We saw a 1913 Stutz Bearcat; a 1956 Studebaker Golden Hawk; a Jensen Interceptor.  We were like two kids in a candy shop, Ray and I. 

I spotted a familiar car way at the end of the aisle.  I shoved Ray on the shoulder, excited.  “Hey!”  I pointed down the row.

Ray looked in the direction I was pointing and his jaw almost hit the floor.  “Oh my God!” he whispered.  We both practically ran to the end of the row. 

There were she was; a 1971 Buick Riviera Gran Sport—cherry red, hood up, doors open, staring us down like a hot chick giving us the eye.  Ray shook his head. “I wish Benny was here to see this,” he said with regret. “Man,” he said, voice full of awe. 

Ben was working, so he couldn’t make it.  In fact, he was working all week.  Ben was supposed to be on vacation with Ray, but I guess his new boss had revoked it, despite the fact that it had been approved months ago.  The guy even had him working all day Thanksgiving too.  Ray was bullshit. What an asshole.  It definitely sounded like the guy was picking on Ben.  I told Ray they ought to look into filing a written complaint.  Ray said he had been trying to get Ben to do just that, but he had always had a problem with sticking up for himself, so he wouldn’t go through with it.  Ray told me he had planned on going over his head to the chief, but Ben had made him promise that he wouldn’t interfere.  Ray said he was about ready to break his promise.

I was sorry that Ben had to work, but I was also looking forward to spending the next couple of days with my brother alone.  Emelia wasn’t flying in from Boston until Wednesday night, and we’d fly back together Saturday morning.

Ray’s place was kind of a wreck, since they were packing up to move into the house.  So, I was staying up at Frannie’s place this trip, getting to know her husband a little bit, and her new baby, Faith.   Francesca looked good and appeared to be very, very happy. I’m so glad.

Ray and I spent the rest of the afternoon checking out almost every single car in detail. 

We were one of the last to leave.  It was dark when we pulled out of the parking lot.  We stopped at a little diner just before the highway.  We got burgers and fries and vanilla milkshakes.

“So,” I said, watching Ray stuff as much burger into his mouth as he could fit. 

“So?” he said around a mouth of food.

“How’s things with you and Ben?”

Ray grinned.  “Things are good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I took a bite of my cheeseburger, chewed and considered my next words carefully.  “So…what about…the woman?”

“She’s out of the picture. Totally.”

“Really?”

“You don’t know Benton Fraser that well, do you? He made me “forswear”  her before I could move back in the apartment.” Ray chuckled mirthlessly.

“Any regrets?”

Ray took his time answering, picking at his fries.  “Nah…but I kinda miss her, anyway.  I miss her friendship.  She was a cool chick.”

“Yeah?”

“We had a good vibe together.  She’s kind of one of those ‘free-spirit’ type of girls.  Not a lot of hang-ups, which I liked.  Just…she was just… fun. I see her every now and then, you know, at the station.”

“That’s gotta be a little weird, no?”

“Yeah, but I’ve kind of gotten used to it, just like I’m used to being around Angie all the time.  We keep it professional, you know?  She’s back with her ex now; I’m back with mine.  It’s cool.  I mean, we all have to make it work since Ben and Stan are partners.  We gotta just be grown-ups and get along.”

I smiled. “That’s very mature of you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

We ate in silence for a few minutes.

“So, how’s Emelia doing, anyway?” Ray asked.

“She’s good. We’ve been thinking of moving in together, did I tell ya?”

“No, you didn’t! Hey, that’s cool. Congratulations. I really like her.”

“Thanks.”  I played with my shake a little, stirring it, and watching it froth.  “So look- you and Ben need to come out to the Cape with us again next summer, do Boston, too.”

“I know. Benny keeps bringing it up.  We never did get to see Lexington and Concord and Walden Pond and all that stuff.”  Ray and Ben had been planning a visit right before 9-11 to hang out in Boston for a few days.  We hadn’t been able to connect in my neck of the woods since then.

“Why don’t we just plan it? Come up for the fourth of July and stay for the week.”  Emelia’s family owns a house in P-town, and we spent at least half our summer weekends out there.  

“Maybe” Ray said.

“Not maybe. Yes. Come on.  You heard that bill passed a couple of years ago. You and Ben can tie the knot officially this time, make it legal.”

Ray sighed.  “You sound like Tommy.”

“Well, Tommy’s right.”

“Listen to you, Mr. ‘I’ll Never Get Married’!”

I laughed.  “I know, I know.  I’m just saying.” 

The waitress interrupted by checking on us one final time, and leaving us the bill.  I grabbed it, cutting off his faint protest.  “I got it, Ray-Ray.”  I pulled out my wallet and removed a twenty.  “So, whadda ya say, Ray? You gonna ask that nice boy to marry you, or what?”

Ray bit his lip as we both stood and headed for the door. 

“You are, aren’t you?” I said, grinning.

Ray grinned, and only shrugged.  I laughed out loud and slapped his back as we made our way to the car.