October 1989
Joey from Bay Ridge, a client at Manny’s diamond store in West 47th Street, repaired elevators.He was as filthy as a coal miner and as greasy as an oil rigger.
“Every job was an emergency.” He pulled out a wad of bills with a filthy hand. “I like getting paid in cash.”
A steady customer. He came into the store. Richie Boy and I were glad to see the grimy Brooklynite, but he was not buying. He was selling.
“I found two tickets to the Stones at Shea in an elevator shaft. I can’t go, but I was in the neighborhood and thought you might buy ’em. $30 each.” Joey found lots of stuff in the bottom of the shafts. Once $5000. Other times jewelry. At first we thught he was a thief, but no one got that dirtier doig dishonest work
I looked at the tickets. They were legit Steel Wheels tix. They were for tonight. I was familiar with Shea. A friend and I had the third base seats racketed by duking the ushers $10.
“Where are they?” Richie Boy asked.
“They’re on the field to the right of the stage ”
“I’ll give you $30 for the two.” Richie Boy never paid retail.
Joey shrugged at the offer for half and nodded ‘deal’
Neither of us had money after a long night on the town.
“Get the money from petty cash ”
“Your father is not going to like that,” whispered, Manny hated both of us. Richie Boy drank like a goy and his father blamed me, the Shabbats Goy.
“Get the money. He’s not here. So I’m the boss.” His name wasn’t all the wall, but I got the money for Joey. We loved the Stones and the seats were great.
