Old Jack Salter wondered how much embalming fluid had been pumped since the 1947 opening of the Salter’s funeral home. Nearing retirement nostalgic thoughts often entered his mind. A lifetime bachelor, his love was the dark, Tudor style, three-story structure located in the small Rolling Meadows, New Jersey borough.

Salter’s stood out from the large white manor estates that seemed to always have dark green lawns, winding driveways, and boulevards lined with sugar maples. All the large green and black shutters gave the community a fake air of aristocratic importance. Rolling Meadow was a favorite respite for the Giacanni crime family. Having lived there for as long as the Salters, Jack had felt ambiguous about his connection to the Giacannis.

Three generations of Salters and three generations of Giacannis had run their businesses. Old Jack Salter would be the last of his lineage. He had no kin that he wanted to inherit his business. When asked off the job, he said, “they’re all shits.”

Though he hadn’t told him, Jack had decided to give the business to Mike. Hard working Mike had done everything that the business required for the past fifteen years. Sewing lips, painting faces, exchanging embalming fluid for blood he’d done it all when it came to preparing or cremating bodies for the hereafter. Hell he even unclogged the nasty drains without being told, thought Old Jack. His only concern was leaving Mike the Giacannis to deal with.

When he came back from a two-year tour in Afghanistan Jack moved Mike upstairs to help facilitate the running of Salter’s funeral home. Thankful for his safe return, Jack thought, he’d earned the promotion.

Though he never showed it on the job, Jack enjoyed seeing Mike’s boys chase each other throughout the parlor. It didn’t bother him seeing them play tag around coffins in the display room. Neither did it bother him when the boys interrupted an embalming session down in the basement. He’d done the same thing when his dad ran the business. To him, this meant the funeral home would continue once he was gone. His only two requirements would be for Mike to keep the boys at home on funeral days. And, more important he’d have to agree that the business would keep the Salter name in perpetuity. Soon he would tell Mike it would be his.

Today had started as a good day in the business of Salter’s. Mrs. Drake in her eighties came by to pick out her final resting coffin. She went with the high-end black walnut model. It was lined in the finest light blue India silk. She wanted to out do her husband even though he’d passed twenty-five years prior. Jack was well taught to comfort and make people believe they’d made the right decision. Jack said, “Mrs. Drake you’ve made a wise choice selecting the black walnut. It’ll look so beautiful in the parlor.”

Chiming in Mike added, “Your husband will be happy knowing that you’re resting in such a fine piece of craftsmanship.”

Mrs. Drake frowned before saying, “I don’t give a fuck what Sammy would think. He shouldn’t have left me.”

Use to Mrs. Drake dropping F-bombs, Jack neither smiled nor frowned. Trained by his father to stay soft voiced while showing deference in a calm and proper manner both Jack and Mike remained stoic. They acted like nothing unusual was said. A light touch of sadness completed his and Mike’s demeanor. After a few moments, Jack asked Mrs. Drake if she wanted to be put on a monthly installment plan.

“Hell no. You know I’m rich.”

He wasn’t surprised that she would pay up front in cash. But it felt crude watching her pull a large roll of bills from her black sequined purse. The Victorian purse was a significant part of her dowdy Victorian dress ensemble. Jack thought about it being with her as she rested in eternity.

Jack hid his glee as Mrs. Drake counted out fifty- one hundred dollar bills. He thought how good he is at being serious, somber and serene when conducting business at Salter’s.

After Mrs. Drake left, Mike said, “Mr. Bellipanni’s in your office. You need me around?”

“No. I can deal with Bellipanni today.”

***

“Hey you old Jew-bag.”

“Hey Mr. WOP.”

Bellipanni expelled a boisterous laugh. Jack knew he’d be dead in a day if they hadn’t been swapping ethnic slurs and doing business for so long. Jack’s funeral like face was now missing. At one time he didn’t mind doing business with the Giacannis but he wasn’t so sure any more. Jack had long lost his sense of reverence and decency for the dead when it came to dealing with the Giacannis. Back when he was a fifteen-year old idealist he remembered asking his father, “Don’t you feel guilty doing the Giacannis’ dirty work?”

He thought his daddy might get angry at such an impertinent question. But instead, he remembered a sad somber voice.Jack thought about his daddy saying- “Son, you need to remember to always do what the Giacanni family tells you to do.”

He thought, Daddy’s response was worse than any kind of reprimand. Except for when it came to the Giacannis he’d always exuded strength. Seeing what seemed to be cowering made Jack feel depressed. The apparent fragility of his father was something he’d never observed.

His grand father and father had from the beginning held a complex intertwined relationship with the Giacannis. When Jack’s father said Vito Giacanni had been best man at his wedding his dad’s voice sounded more about control then love for one another. While Jack tolerated Vito, he despised his son Anthony. But whether he wanted to or not he knew history required him to continue working with the Giacannis.

“I guess Tony has a stiff for me.”

Looking down, Bellipanni said, “Tony wants something different.”

“Different? How so?”

Big Bellipanni stood looking consternated. Jack watched as the tall, wide shouldered paunchy thug squeezed his left hand with his right as he tried to speak. It wasn’t like Bellipanni to be uncomfortable. The Giacannis’ main Capo doesn’t act this way, thought Jack.

Jack could hear the pendulum swinging in his grandfather’s grandfather clock. After what seemed forever, Bellipanni muttered, “He wants you to cut off his cock and embalm it.”

Shocked Jack snorted before saying, “You know for our relationship to work I have to get rid of all evidence.”

Bellipanni said, “Just relaying what he told me to tell ya.”

Jack didn’t want to go deeper with the conversation. He’d disliked Tony all the way back to grade school. Jack thought, Tony’s dad had some class but his son was a spoiled bully of an asshole. Teachers and everyone else including Jack were scared of Tony.

***

Jack dreaded visiting the Giacanni house. Vito Giacanni was likable if you didn’t cross him. And while he didn’t like his father kissing Vito’s ass Jack respected him. It was unfortunate he’d buried him just three month’s earlier. Now he’d have to deal with his son Tony.

Seeing Tony shaking hands at the funeral he was always surprised at his weight gain since high school. The stupid laugh reminded Jack how much he hated him back then. The lack of reverence for his father’s passing didn’t surprise him. Jack thought, Tony treated the funeral home like a coronation for himself.

The house office had not changed though it’d been years since Jack had visited old man Giacanni’s home. The blood red carpet, the floor to ceiling bookcases and the dark paneled wooded walls brought back good memories of his Dad’s cigar smoking sessions with Giacanni senior.

Tony had loafered sockless fat feet that he’d placed on the huge leather topped mahogany desk. The desk was near the back center beneath a large painting of grandfather Giaccani. As expected the desk was the center point when entering the room. Two low, cushioned. leather-upholstered chairs in front of the desk created a sense of deference to the boss. With the rolling chair raised high, Jack realized if he sat down Tony could look down upon him.

Grinning wide, Tony said, “Sit down Jackie my friend. Long time.”

It had only been three months since his dad had been planted. Hasn’t been that long. In fact I’d say not long enough, Jack thought..

Jack noticed the slouched young man standing near the tall, heavily golden draped window. Jack knew it was Tony’s son. Tall, thin and muscular frame, he could be a model. It’s hard to believe he came from Tony’s loins, thought Jack.

Jack remembered his father regretfully having to “take care” of a young post pregnancy girl twenty plus years ago for Tony. He thought about his Daddy’s words when he said, “This is how you leave the Giacanni family.”

“Hey Jackie meet my son Frankie.”

Not to waste time Jack didn’t say, “We’ve already met.”

He did think Tony is such an arrogant asshole. He’s in his own world.

The boy looked up for a millisecond as Jack nodded his head and smiled.

“So what’s this I hear about you not wanting to take care of my stiff?”

Jack watched Tony drop his feet off the desk-top while in one smooth motion swooping forward. Hands on the leather top he looked almost lion-like ready to pounce. Before Jack could speak, Tony said, “God knows how many Benjamin’s you’ve made pulling gold and diamonds off our stiffs.”

Muttering, Tony said, “Can’t believe Gramps made that kind of deal.”

“Tony, I want to help you out here but I’m not sure we can embalm just a penis.”

Before Tony spoke, Jack said, “And, we did agree a long time ago it would be our job to get rid of all evidence. Any gold or other jewelry we take off the bodies gets melted or put away for later fencing.”

Tony sat silent. Jack could see his face redden, go calm and turn smug. “Jackie I need that cock embalmed for my boy. He needs it to suck on at night.”

Tony cackled with hysterical delight before Jack stammered, “What?”

Chortling, Tony said, “Turns out Frankie loves cock, I caught him in bed with the recently deceased.”

Holding a smug wide grin Tony added, “I want to give him something to remember him by.”

Jack couldn’t tell if there was any reaction. The boy kept looking at the carpeted floor.

***

Incredulous, Mike said, “Can we do this?”

“The real question is- can you do it?”

Mike and Jack sat in his office. Looking around, Jack said, “When I retire you need to change the décor. It looks too much like the Giacannis’ place.”

“You wouldn’t care?”

“I’d be glad if you did it…. Hell, I might do it. I don’t need anything to remind me of that bastard.”

“You know I’ve never tried to embalm or make a dead person’s penis stiff. Our customers don’t need a stiff penis.”

Mike stared at the grandfather clock that hadn’t kept good time in fifty years on the back wall before saying, “And what you want me to do is something I haven’t done before.”

As if not hearing Mike, Jack said “He wants me to put it in a glass display case.”

Mike said, “That will make it easier. Touching the penis might give it away.”

***

Tony, Bellipanni and Frankie entered through the tall heavy oak front door of Salters. Tony wore his smug smile while Frankie’s demeanor oozed not wanting to be there. Bellipanni had on his “on-the job” serious face. It was a face Jack saw whenever bodies got delivered.

Before speaking Tony looked around as if he thought the funeral home should welcome his return. Looking at Jack, Tony said, “Hasn’t changed a bit. Every time I come in here it still gives me the creeps.”

Ignoring his comment, Jack said, “This is Mike. Soon he’s going to be running this place.”

Without shaking hands or even saying hello, Tony said, “He’s not going to get the same deal your getting on removing certain items from the stiffs.”

Again ignoring Tony’s comment, Jack said, “Are you ready to see what we did with the penis?”

“I can’t wait to see the prick.” Tony chuckled at his own joke.

No one else laughed.

Tony added, “I know Frankie boy wants to sleep with it tonight.”

Tony chortled, Frankie stared at the tiles and Bellipanni remained stern faced.

Jack led them to the old, brass-caged elevator in the rear of the funeral home. Leading them through the display room Jack said, “The penis is in the basement with the body.”

Tony said, “I’m not sure what has me more excited. Going into the bowels of Salter’s or seeing lover boy’s cock on display. I can’t wait.”

Tony asked Mike, “Aren’t you coming.”

“No thank you. Jack wants me to stay up here to meet with a two o-clock client.”

“Suit yourself.”

The brass, cage like door clanged as it opened. The elevator shook and lowered. It was plenty big since it was used to roll in bodies for preparation. When they exited Bellipanni stepped out and didn’t move. Has hands crossed as he stood at attention.

Frankie seeing the body of his lover moved slow but determined. Jack followed Frankie while Tony went with alacrity to the prominently displayed penis in its’ glass case. The encased penis rested on a pedestal in the middle of the embalming room.

Jack heard Tony say, “Wow, it’s huge!”

Ignoring him, Jack watched as Frankie stood over the corpse of his lover. The young man lying on the metal table looked like a pale Adonis. A sheet was pulled up to just below his navel. Six-pack abs and a smooth chest were only disturbed by five brown splotched perforations. One left of his navel, one below his left nipple and three around his right pectoral muscle. Gently Jack said, “We haven’t had time to prepare the body.”

Frankie remained silent. Jack could tell he was looking at a small circular brownish splotch near the crotch area of the white sheet. Jack said, “There was no heart pumping so not much blood when we did it.”

Hearing Tony in the background, laughing with glee Jack whispered, “I’m really sorry it goes against everything I believe in. We treat bodies with respect. I’m not into mutilating our customers.”

Jack looked back, he watched Tony pick up the wooden glass case with his fat fingers. Gleefully he held it at eye level before saying, “Jackie boy you’ve really outdone yourself. That’s a nine incher. Please, please … Frankie baby don’t tell me you let him stick that up your ass.”

Turning sharply Jack moved behind Frankie.

Even though the blast was muted somewhat by Tony’s head and chest, the explosion was ear-drum bursting. The weighted pressure pushed Jack into Frankie causing both to topple into the dead lover’s smooth chest and rock hard abdomen. While the cold stainless steel gurney rolled it did not tip over. Rising up Jack was amazed to see Tony still standing upright for what seemed an eternity. Twisting around he saw Tony’s face half torn off.The wood splinters, glass shards and nails were embedded in Tony’s chest to the top of his head. Before he fell Jack saw a large shard of glass puncturing his carotid artery. Seeing one eye missing and blood spurting from Tony’s mouth, Jack had seen enough critically injured bodies to know Tony would be dead soon.

Tony fell like a large sack of flour when hitting the hard well-mopped gray cement floor. Jack saw the fall peripherally because his attention was now on Bellipanni.An old snub-nosed silver chrome plated thirty-eight-magnum revolver was pointing at Jack from across the room. Jack could hear Tony’s weakening rasping gasp like noises. Glimpsing down Jack saw Tony’s one eye staring. It seemed to hold a look of disbelief and betrayal.

Jack had hoped Bellipanni standing near the elevator would be far enough away to survive the blast. Now he wasn’t so sure.

Jack wasn’t certain if Bellipanni would’ve killed him. But before anything happened Frankie stepped in front of Jack and told Bellipanni, “Bell put the damn gun back in your coat.”

“But, Frankie, Mr. Jack hurt your father bad.”

Before anything else happened, Frankie pulled from inside his leather jacket a Glock 19. Tony shuddered after the first shot went into his chest. He lay motionless with the second shot that went into his groin. If the bomb didn’t cause it the reverberations from Frankie’s Glock made Jack’s ears hurt.

Finishing the clip across Tony’s body, Frankie looked up and stared at Bellipanni before saying, “He ain’t hurting no more. He’s dead. Bell put the fucking gun away.”

Turning around Frankie said, “Mr. Salter I assume you’ll continue cleaning up for my family.”

Jack didn’t hesitate when he said, “It’ll be an honor. Do you want any of the jewelry off either body?”

Jack could tell Frankie was staring at his dead lover before he said, “No a deal is a deal. You keep all the jewelry like before.”

Getting off the clanging antique elevator Mike was there to greet them. Jack could tell that Frankie knew Mike was part of this when he asked, “Did you make the IED?”

“It was something I picked up in Afghanistan. How do you know what an IED is?”

Frankie smiled and said, “You’re not the only one that served.”

Looking away, Frankie added, “That’s how I met Christian.”

Trying to be funny, Jack said, ”Mike made the IED but I installed the security monitors to make sure all of us would be far enough away when he flipped the switch. I even wanted the old WOP here to make it.”

Bellipanni who was still shook up over it all didn’t laugh. He gave a weak smile before saying, “You old Jew-bag, you’re lucky I didn’t shoot your wrinkled ass.”

The End

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