CHAPTER 4
HELL TIME
Tony Soprano leaned over his kitchen sink, morosely staring out the window. He had a cigarette in hand, but paid no attention to it. It was one of those times.
Carmela, in her nightgown, came in. "Tony, for chrissake, it's 2 am!"
"Yeah," replied Tony flatly. He took a drag of his cigarette and let it fall into the sink. "Sorry. I'll get that later."
Carmela shook her head. In all the time they'd been married, Tony never offered to clean anything up; it just wasn't in him. Something was seriously wrong.
"What is it Tony? Can't we talk about this?"
Tony shook his head.
"It's about business, isn't it?"
No reply.
"Christopher?"
Tony closed his eyes, as though pained. "I can't believe him. I gave him every chance in the world to unfuck himself. He didn't do it."
He looked at Carm with a look she'd never seen in him before: a look of fear and anger. "Tell me, what else could I have done?"
"If he'd been my own son, I couldn't have loved him more. THIS is how he repays me."
Carm looked indignant. "Are you saying it's his fault he's in jail?"
"Yes! It is! There's such a thing as taking personal responsibility for your life! Chris didn't do that! He stuck his face in that dope and expected good old Uncle Tony to bail him out! Well Uncle Tony says go fuck yourself!"
"Tony he's my family by blood! How do you think I feel? If I'd known –"
"Known what?" Tony said, puzzled.
But how could she explain it? Should she? Should she say it was her that gave the Jersey state police that anonymous tip on Ade's ring?
Tony raised his arms, frustrated. "Jesus, can't I even have a quiet smoke here?"
He went outside.
Chris had been jonesing badly for two days now. He could barely respond to anything, it took them five calls to get a response when the FBI came in for questioning.
FBI guy would never forget how Chris Moltisanti looked when they brought him in the interrogation room…like every inch a junkie.
"Hello, Chrissie."
Chris opened his eyes. God how it hurt, he thought. He saw three people. One of them he recognized as Tony's lawyer, Melvoin. Another was – huh? That friend of Adriana's? – and the last was FBI guy, still looking smug.
FBI Guy:
Still jonesing, Chrissie? Bet you are. It's been awhile since you had any…but the wheels of justice move quickly. We have to get these questions in, OK?
MELVOIN:
Mr Moltisanti does not have to answer your questions.
FBI Guy:
No, of course not. But then he wouldn't get out anytime soon – just think, Chrissie, all that H out there, sitting around like an orphan. Your tracks crying out to be fed yet, Chrissie? Come on, junky boy, you gotta feed the monster soon. That's all you dopeheads ever think about. Not family, not omerta, not life or death or your loving fiancée….oh, right, you killed her, didn't you? The very minute you found out she was an informant. Forgive me, Chrissie, I do sometimes forget… you dago bastards kill rats don't you?
(Chris was staring to feel that withdrawl pains again.)
FBI Guy:
Tell ya what, Chrissie boy – maybe you didn't kill Adriana La Cerva, but you sure know who did, don't you? Or maybe –(takes out a photo) This guy? Ralph Cifaretto? Has a little son in the hospital, it's been forever now, but they tell me he'll speak and walk again….though he'll do it without his father, eh, MURDERER?
CHRIS: (weakly)
It wasn't me…
FBI Guy:
No, why should we believe that? Ralphie was a real prick. BUT….he also had money too. Junkies need money. You were seen driving up to his house. Maybe you said to him, (does a stereotypical junky voice) Hey, bro, I thinks I need some money so I can…you know get through my busy day? Promise I'll pay back (back to normal voice) Ain't that right, Chrissie?
CHRIS:
No, it's not true, he was already dead -
(Chris now thought AH SHIT!)
FBI Guy:
(subdued) Huh?
(He leaned in) He was already dead? (smiles) Now, Chrissie….it comes out. Addictions beat omerta every time. (very serious) You can't go back now, Chrissie. You think once Tony gets word of all this he'll let you walk? Uh uh. He's already stuck his neck out, letting you stay on this long. You think his buddies want you around? Nope. They think you're just a strung out loser…and now, you're a strung out rat as well. We can offer you protection from them Chrissie, it's not too late, even if you – or Tony – did kill the messenger.
Chris said nothing for awhile, but started crying.
God how this hurts….
HELL TIME
Tony Soprano leaned over his kitchen sink, morosely staring out the window. He had a cigarette in hand, but paid no attention to it. It was one of those times.
Carmela, in her nightgown, came in. "Tony, for chrissake, it's 2 am!"
"Yeah," replied Tony flatly. He took a drag of his cigarette and let it fall into the sink. "Sorry. I'll get that later."
Carmela shook her head. In all the time they'd been married, Tony never offered to clean anything up; it just wasn't in him. Something was seriously wrong.
"What is it Tony? Can't we talk about this?"
Tony shook his head.
"It's about business, isn't it?"
No reply.
"Christopher?"
Tony closed his eyes, as though pained. "I can't believe him. I gave him every chance in the world to unfuck himself. He didn't do it."
He looked at Carm with a look she'd never seen in him before: a look of fear and anger. "Tell me, what else could I have done?"
"If he'd been my own son, I couldn't have loved him more. THIS is how he repays me."
Carm looked indignant. "Are you saying it's his fault he's in jail?"
"Yes! It is! There's such a thing as taking personal responsibility for your life! Chris didn't do that! He stuck his face in that dope and expected good old Uncle Tony to bail him out! Well Uncle Tony says go fuck yourself!"
"Tony he's my family by blood! How do you think I feel? If I'd known –"
"Known what?" Tony said, puzzled.
But how could she explain it? Should she? Should she say it was her that gave the Jersey state police that anonymous tip on Ade's ring?
Tony raised his arms, frustrated. "Jesus, can't I even have a quiet smoke here?"
He went outside.
Chris had been jonesing badly for two days now. He could barely respond to anything, it took them five calls to get a response when the FBI came in for questioning.
FBI guy would never forget how Chris Moltisanti looked when they brought him in the interrogation room…like every inch a junkie.
"Hello, Chrissie."
Chris opened his eyes. God how it hurt, he thought. He saw three people. One of them he recognized as Tony's lawyer, Melvoin. Another was – huh? That friend of Adriana's? – and the last was FBI guy, still looking smug.
FBI Guy:
Still jonesing, Chrissie? Bet you are. It's been awhile since you had any…but the wheels of justice move quickly. We have to get these questions in, OK?
MELVOIN:
Mr Moltisanti does not have to answer your questions.
FBI Guy:
No, of course not. But then he wouldn't get out anytime soon – just think, Chrissie, all that H out there, sitting around like an orphan. Your tracks crying out to be fed yet, Chrissie? Come on, junky boy, you gotta feed the monster soon. That's all you dopeheads ever think about. Not family, not omerta, not life or death or your loving fiancée….oh, right, you killed her, didn't you? The very minute you found out she was an informant. Forgive me, Chrissie, I do sometimes forget… you dago bastards kill rats don't you?
(Chris was staring to feel that withdrawl pains again.)
FBI Guy:
Tell ya what, Chrissie boy – maybe you didn't kill Adriana La Cerva, but you sure know who did, don't you? Or maybe –(takes out a photo) This guy? Ralph Cifaretto? Has a little son in the hospital, it's been forever now, but they tell me he'll speak and walk again….though he'll do it without his father, eh, MURDERER?
CHRIS: (weakly)
It wasn't me…
FBI Guy:
No, why should we believe that? Ralphie was a real prick. BUT….he also had money too. Junkies need money. You were seen driving up to his house. Maybe you said to him, (does a stereotypical junky voice) Hey, bro, I thinks I need some money so I can…you know get through my busy day? Promise I'll pay back (back to normal voice) Ain't that right, Chrissie?
CHRIS:
No, it's not true, he was already dead -
(Chris now thought AH SHIT!)
FBI Guy:
(subdued) Huh?
(He leaned in) He was already dead? (smiles) Now, Chrissie….it comes out. Addictions beat omerta every time. (very serious) You can't go back now, Chrissie. You think once Tony gets word of all this he'll let you walk? Uh uh. He's already stuck his neck out, letting you stay on this long. You think his buddies want you around? Nope. They think you're just a strung out loser…and now, you're a strung out rat as well. We can offer you protection from them Chrissie, it's not too late, even if you – or Tony – did kill the messenger.
Chris said nothing for awhile, but started crying.
God how this hurts….