The Super

By Alan Wallach

Monte Leonard, a gentle giant of a man in his 50s with a history of drug addiction, alcoholism, sex offense, the mob and prison becomes the superintendent of an apartment building. The story involves his relationships with tenants, his boss and girl friends. He is in love with an alcoholic who comes close to destroying him because he can't live with an addict. His life is a mess because he can't shake his past. Even though he has been clean and straight for almost 10 years, he is continually being harassed and arrested since, because of his record, he is always a prime suspect. No matter what he does, his past haunts him. He is accused of rape by his girl friend, arrested for murder and generally harassed by the police. His life is a fight to live a normal quiet life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alan Wallach
• Release date: Oct 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9780996508032

Alan Wallach

Alan Wallach was born and raised in Brooklyn. He has a degree in chemistry. After a tour in the US Air Force as a meteorologist, he went to work for IBM as a programmer and back to school for graduate study in mathematics. He has been associated with computers for most of his business life in one form or another from programming to consulting, training, sales, management and ownership. He has been a technical writer, and for almost 15 years wrote a computer column for the Sunday Berkshire Eagle in Pittsfield MA. In the early nineties, his Plain English Guide to Your PC was published and and right before the milennium, The Year 2000 Hoax was released, a book which debunked the doomsayers prediction of an economic collapse because of the Y2K bug.Alan is an accomplished classical pianist and considers music his first love. He is a basketball nut and still plays often in the early morning hours with a similar minded group of nuts.He and his wife have recently moved from the Berkshires in Massachusetts to New Jersey, in full view of the Manhattan skyline. He is now a full time writer working on a new novel and continuing his Kieran series of books for young readers.

Book preview

Chapter I

Monte Leonard looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. He needed a shave but he decided not to do it. The mirror, attached to the bathroom vanity was too low for his 6 foot 7 inch frame to see his face. He got tired of asking his landlord to raise it. He could only see his body. He had lost a lot of weight, but he still had a gut that he wanted to get rid of.

He patted his belly and talked to himself in the mirror. You handsome, horny mother-fucker. The ladies don't seem to mind this thing. He smiled at his image. He couldn't really understand why women were attracted to him. But he took whatever advantage it gave him. Big Monte, as he was often referred to, was a gentle man, a giant with a voice that rarely got loud even when he was mad. But what he rarely told anybody was he was a registered sex offender. He had been living with it for almost 20 years and it still made him nervous. It was like a sword of Damocles. He never knew when he would be one of the usual suspects rounded up whenever a sex crime was committed. And he was terrified that without a good lawyer and his record, he would wind up back in Dannemora. That's why he left Massachusetts after his conviction to get a fresh start. He only returned a few years earlier out of loneliness. To those who discovered it, he always claimed that his conviction was bullshit, that he never did anything even questionable and that he never would have been convicted if he didn't have a lousy lawyer. Someone had a hard-on for him was what he always said to anyone that called him on it.

His real name was Menotti. He never understood why his father changed the family name from Leonardi to Leonard to avoid discrimination against Italians, but named him Menotti. It was Monte himself who selected Monte as his name. He was forty-eight and although he didn't look older than that, he certainly felt it. His back and knees bothered him from a serious auto accident years earlier so he couldn't work, or so he claimed. He was on the dole, a survivor who milked the system for about a thousand a month in government disability payments. It didn't bother him in the least. He also squeezed out a state government heating allowance and whatever odd jobs he could dig up. He would do almost anything, as long as he was paid off the books.

Monte was also a picker. He browsed through garbage, usually in dumpsters, and often found valuable stuff. He was well connected with local antique stores and used Ebay regularly to unload the junk he found. He would literally drool if he saw a nearby dumpster outside a building being renovated. But the most lucrative sideline for him was that he sold most of his prescribed medications. He didn't pay for them and considered them useless. Yes, Big Monte, you are doing well, he said, looking at himself in the mirror as if trying to talk himself into it. But under it all, Monte was a very lonely man, something he never admitted to himself. His isolation and anxiety about his sex status unconsciously influenced everything he did.

He was a little worried because he had to get out of his rat-trap apartment in two weeks and still hadn't found another one. It was hard without wheels, and too much walking hurt. But today he was going to make a major push. His sort-of friend Steve Bottini said there was a vacant one-bedroom in his building, and Monte had an appointment to see the landlord later in the day.

****

Gordon Kibbe owned the hundred-fifty-year-old apartment building on Adrien Avenue. He was sorry he had bought the relic. He once had dreams of making the building a local showplace, but he should have listened to the engineer who warned him. Not that the building didn't provide him with an income, it certainly did. But he did not like the price. It was like an old used car with 300,000 miles on it. No matter what you fixed, there was always something going wrong. The tenants had no qualms about calling him at whatever hour. One tenant who worked nights called him to complain about something at least once a week when she got home at 3:00 am .

He ached to sell the building but he couldn't get his price. Other real estate investors obviously didn't want to repeat his mistake, so he suffered through it. Gordon was in his fifties, a relatively new bachelor. He kept himself in decent shape by running most mornings. His wife, Barbara, had left him five years earlier because of his philandering. He still loved her, but she was fed up and went back to NewYork City to live. Their only contact was things involving the children. And then she was only cordial. That hurt.

He had a friend with benefits, Brenda Chance, a thirty-something who was a former tenant, and was the manager of a record store at the mall. He always had the hots for Brenda. She was not busty but she had a sexy demeanor and he thought she had a great ass - looked good going away is how he often described her. Always careful not to mess around with tenants, he jumped at the chance when she moved out. He liked her well enough, and she was good company, but for him she was really only someone to fuck. He thought she felt the same way about him. She was a wild woman in the bedroom, so wild that sometimes she scared him.

Other than Brenda, his life was very routine. Even the excitement that occasionally arose with the tenants was predictable and boring. He was clearly in a rut, although he had come to like living alone. There were several of his wife's friends hitting on him and any one of them would have moved in But he wanted no part of a live-in girlfriend, certainly not one of his wife's friends and he certainly didn't want Brenda living with him. She was too much to take for long periods. He didn't know what he would do if he sold the building but for the moment he couldn't care less ABT, anything but this.

When Monte arrived with his girlfriend Cheri, Gordon was waiting on the front porch. Rather plain, Gordon thought, and doesn't try either. Monte towered over her. She held his arm like a disaster would occur if she let go. Monte extended his hand and Gordon shook it.

Gordon Kibbe, Gordon said holding out his hand.

Monte reached out and shook it. Monte Leonard. he answered. Steve told me you have an apartment available, Mr. Kibbe. This is my girlfriend, Cheri. We're looking for an apartment, a one-bedroom.

Call me Gordon. Yeah we do have one. It's $700 a month, includes heat and hot water. You pay for electric. You got a car?

"No, why? Does that matter?

No, I just have to keep a handle on the parking situation. Can you handle the rent? he added quickly.

Yeah. I can. But is that the best you can do on the rent?

I thought you said you could handle it.

I can, but it doesn't hurt to hondle a bit. Monte smiled when he said it.

Gordon was not amused. You taking the apartment together? he said brusquely.

Yeah. Cheri smiled and squeezed his arm tighter.

How long you two been together? Gordon asked.

About three months.

That's all? Then I want only you, looking at Monte, on the lease. That is, if you take the apartment. You want to see it? Gordon continued his brusque manner, which was unusual for him. He surprised himself with his brusqueness.

Of course. Can't rent it unless I see it. I'm not stupid, even though I might look it. He smiled as he said it.

I'm sure you're not. This way. Gordon opened the front door and waved them in with his hand. He led them to the back of the corridor, took out a large ring of keys, fumbled for the right one, and opened the door. He waved them in again. You got questions, just ask.

Monte and Cheri walked through the apartment. The living room was sizable and so was the bedroom. There was a back door onto a small patio-like piece of lawn next to the parking area. This is great, Monte said. I like it. You got some kind of application for me to fill out?

Gordon pulled one from his shirt pocket and handed it to Monte. Cheri reluctantly let Monte's arm go so he could fill it out. It took him a while because Monte couldn't write too well. Gordon noticed that he was stumbling. What do you do, Monte? For a living, I mean?

I'm on disability and I do odd jobs. Monte didn't like the way that sounded. He remembered the old days when he was a driver for the Gallo mob in Brooklyn. An odd job was something very particular, he thought. This is a great building, he said, hoping Gordon would stop noticing his hesitant writing.

I hate the fucking thing. Excuse the expression, he said looking at Cheri.

She's heard the word before, Monte interjected.

There's always something going wrong, and tenants have no consideration. They call me at all hours and it drives me nuts. A fuse, a leak in the ceiling, bats, creatures in the walls, you name it. But, maybe I shouldn't be telling you all this. It might discourage you from renting.

You got a super? Monte asked him.

"No, wish I did or at least someone who could answer the complaints.

Maybe you need a super to handle some of the bullshit, Monte said. I could take some of that off your hands, especially in the middle of the night. I don't sleep much. I could also shovel snow, salt the ice, things like that.

Gordon perked up and thought for a minute. How much would you charge me to do it?

Reduce my rent a couple of hundred.

Gordon answered, Let me do a credit check on your application and I'll think about it.

What do you do? he said to Cheri who had grabbed Monte's arm again.

Mostly, I'm on disability and I waitress sometimes.

Both of you on disability. He shook his head. Gaming the system. It seems everyone in this town is gaming the system, somehow or other. OK, I'll do a check and give you a call. If not tomorrow, then the day after. Gordon held his hand out and Monte shook it. He offered it to Cheri who once again let go of Monte long enough to shake it.

As they walked off, Gordon watched them and thought what a strange couple they were. But if Monte's record was clean, he couldn't be that fussy. Winter was coming and the heating bills got heavy. He just couldn't afford empty apartments. Just then, his cell phone played Brenda's ringtone. Hello doll, what's up?

I haven't seen you for three days. I could use a little TLC, particularly in bed. Are you up to it tonight?

"I've been preoccupied with a roof leak for the last two days and empty apartments. How about dinner tonight? Or do you want to have the Red Foxx argument, EF or FF?

What's that mean?

EF is Eat First.

After a few seconds came the answer. Ha! That's a no-brainer. You know what I prefer.

Let's have dinner first anyway. Pick you up about seven. OK?

Perfect, love. See you then.

Gordon drove back to his office. One thing he learned was never to live in, or have an office in a building with his own tenants. This was particularly true with this antique. It was complicated by the fact that since all the apartments were one-room or studio apartments, the tenants were mostly young and mostly inconsiderate. They pushed the window of what they might be allowed to do. There were too many young unmarried couples playing house for the first time. Most of them broke up in less than a year leaving Gordon with one tenant who, by him or herself usually couldn't afford the rent. But how can you predict, he always wondered? And Pittsfield was that kind of town. Anybody with any stability and a family usually bought a house. What was left were mostly the less-than-desirables, not all, but mostly. The goal was to select the lesser evils from a marginal crop of renters. It got complicated because discrimination for any reason could get him in trouble.

After he hung up his jacket, he sat right down at his computer to do a background check on Monte. When it flashed up on the screen, he mumbled to himself, Holy shit! Most of Monte's transgressions were years ago. An alcoholic and drug addict. Served two years in Dannemora for burglary. And he was a low-level registered sex offender for an incident that happened almost twenty years ago. The last eight-plus years have been exemplary. He scratched his head. He looked at the application and picked up the telephone. Hi, this is Gordon Kibbe at the Adrien Apartments. Monte Leonard wants to rent an apartment from me. What can you tell me about him?

Gordon listened. Would you rent to him again? He listened intently. I really appreciate it. Thanks. He hung up. He thought to himself. He paid his rent promptly. He never gave any trouble, but didn't have nice things to say about his girlfriend. Gordon continued to ponder. He would sleep on it.

Chapter II

Gordon awoke with a start. He usually decided not to stay with Brenda all night and last night was no different. He came home after dinner and some bedroom gymnastics. He was dreaming about Sarah Gardner, the tenant in apartment six. She hadn't a dime for two months. Two weeks earlier, he found her with her left leg in a cast up to her thigh. The story she gave him was that she broke it in a fall, her husband left her, taking all the money in the bank account and was now in jail in Connecticut for trying to rob a convenience store. He wondered if the dog ate her homework, too. Her cast was coming off in two days and she would be back working so he should cut her some slack and she would catch up soon.

Call me in two weeks and tell me where you stand. Here's my number. He handed her a business card.

She took it and looked down at it. I will, no problem.

Gordon always worried when someone said, No problem or even worse, Trust me. Don't make me chase you, Sarah. I get really pissed when I don't hear anything.

She looked at him and whined, OK, OK. He stared at her for a few seconds to make sure she heard him, turned abruptly, left, and he heard the door lock after him.

****

That night, Gordon had difficulty sleeping and let the TV put him to sleep. The phone woke him up and seemed louder than usual. Gordon looked at his watch. It was 2:30 AM. Yes, he said sleepily wondering which tenant was bothering him now.

This is Officer Murphy, Pittsfield police, Mr. Kibbe. We have a problem with your tenant in apartment six.

A problem? Gordon sat up. He was more awake. That's Sarah Gardner. I got problems with her too. What's yours?

One of your other tenants called us. Some of her guests were apparently drunk or high and were breaking off the balusters on the front steps and throwing them at passing cars.

What? You're fucking kidding me. Did you arrest them?

They scattered and we couldn't find them. But we wanted to give you a heads-up about her and her guests.

Thanks officer. I appreciate it. He shook his head. That fucking woman, he mumbled to himself. Gordon was getting angry not only about being awakened but about the balusters. He tried to go back to sleep. He tossed for a good hour before he dropped off to sleep. The bright light coming in the window awakened him at 7:30. He went right into the bathroom to shower hoping it would remove the grogginess from his brain. He dressed hurriedly and stopped at the bagel shop for coffee to go. That was all he could take. When he got to the building, he was aghast and furious at what the front steps looked like. Many of the balusters were missing and there were broken pieces of them strewn all over the place. He went to Sarah's apartment and pounded on the door.

A young man answered. Who the fuck are you? Gordon asked. He was either stoned or drunk, Gordon surmised from his eyes. When he didn't answer, Gordon asked, Where's Sarah? as he barged past him and into the living room. Sarah was sitting on the couch, partly out of it. There were three bodies sleeping on the carpeted living room floor.

Hi, she said, with a drunken grin.

Hi? That's all you can say? Sarah, who's going to pay for the damage to the railings in the front?

What damage? she asked.

The police came last night and some of your guests were in the process of breaking the balusters and throwing them at cars. They ran away. Which of these sleeping beauties did it.

It wasn't my guests. she answered, emphasizing the my.

Gordon was ready to refute that but realized it was useless to accuse her. Who are these people sleeping on the floor?

They're helping me with the rent, she answered.

You mean helping you with the rent you don't pay? he responded sarcastically. Sarah, I would like you out of this apartment. I don't believe anything you say and I certainly can't afford you. His voice toughened, Find another place. Don't make me evict you, which I will do if I have to. And if I have to, I'll sue your ass for damages. As far as your guests, get rid of them now He emphasized the now. When I come back tomorrow, I don't want to see anyone here but you. He turned and walked toward the door and looked back. I'm not fucking kidding, he said as he left the apartment.

Outside, he went back to his car and got his camera out. He meticulously took pictures of all the damage including the pieces of broken balusters strewn all over the front of the building.

Back at his office, he called Monte and left a recorded message. Monte, if you are serious about being my super, give me a call. He wasn't sure he was making the right choice. But Monte would help keep order. He could help minimize any future damage. He was a big presence and could frighten anyone.

Monte called him back about fifteen minutes later. Let me buy you lunch, Monte. Can you meet me at the Chinese restaurant on North Street at about 12:30?

"Yeah, sure. 12:30 it is.

And please, leave your girlfriend – Cheri, is that her name? – home.

No sweat, Gordon, we broke up about an hour ago. So it's just me.

Gordon reacted silently. Broke up? WTF? He got to the restaurant a few minutes before the appointed time and watched Monte come down the street. Monte walked with a stilted stride as if his legs hurt him. But he was still somebody that looked like he would be tough to deal with in a brawl. What happened with Cheri, Gordon asked, after the hostess seated them.

She runs off and disappears. Pisses me off. She always comes back, eventually. I was hoping that if we move in together, I could keep her from pulling that shit. But that's my problem or at least was my problem, not yours. I'll deal with it. What did you want to talk about?

If I give you the job of superintendent at the building, I'll cut $200 off the rent. But here's what I need you to do. Fix minor complaints like changing fuses. The calls always come in the middle of the night meaning I have to drive up from Stockbridge. Shovel the snow in the winter off the steps. I have a guy to plow. Put sand and salt on the steps when necessary. Keep track of unwanted cars parked in the back. There's not enough spaces for strangers. Just be there in plain view so that the tenants know who you are.

Monte listened. In the summer, I would like you to mow the small lawn in the front and pull weeds that grow in the back. The bamboo grows to tree size if they aren't pulled up and it becomes real difficult to get rid of them. Also, sweep the common areas and staircases every week. It shouldn't take long. Tell you what, I'll put an agreement together with a lease. When did you want to move in?

The first, if that's OK.

One question. If your break up with Cheri is permanent, can you handle the rent? Or will you have to move out and break the lease?

No, no. I can handle the rent without her. I never really counted on her for rent money.

OK then, I'll call you tomorrow to sign things.

Deal, Monte answered.

****

The next morning, Gordon standing at the building looked at his watch. He held the baseball bat in his hand and tested it's heft. He had plenty of time before he was to meet Monte. He walked back to apartment six and knocked on the door. Sarah answered, and Gordon walked in past her. There were now four people asleep on the living room floor.

"Sarah, I've had it. I told you I wanted your guests gone today. Now, I want all of you out of here by Friday. When I come in here Saturday, I want this place empty.

Where'm I gonna go? she asked.

I don't give a shit. I don't want to go through the legal bullshit to get you out. You're two months behind in the rent, soon to be three months, and you and your guests do too much damage. He swung the bat lightly in his hand. You get out by Friday or you will be sorry.

Sarah looked at the bat. Two of her sleeping guests awoke just in time to see Gordon swing the bat and hear his ultimatum. Friday, you understand? Sarah didn't say anything. She just looked at him and Gordon was reasonably sure he got his message across. He left and started walking toward North Street.

Monte was waiting for Gordon outside the restaurant. Gordon ushered him in. The hostess showed them to a table and when they sat down, Monte started to speak. Gordon interrupted him, Let's order first, then we can talk.

Monte was partial to shrimp and Gordon ordered Szechuan beef. You want a beer? Gordon said.

Don't drink no more. Drugs neither!

Do you mind if I have one? Gordon asked.

Nah. Go right ahead.

Gordon looked up at the waitress. Sam Adams, and bring some tea, too, please. Gordon pulled a sheath of papers from his shirt pocket. Here's a one year lease. The rent is $700 a month. This is an agreement with a list of things I would like you to do for me in the building. If you agree, I'll cut $200 off the rent. There's nothing on that list that's particularly difficult. He laid it on the table.

Monte picked it up and began reading it. While Monte was reading, Gordon took out his phone and called Giacomo, his Italian handyman. Giacomo, I need you. You available? He repeated in Italian, Ho bisogno qualcosa. Sei disponibile? He waited, covered the mouthpiece with his hand and talked to Monte. The guests in apartment six did a number on the front porch, ripped out a bunch of balusters. Another pause. Yeah, tomorrow is great. Ciao. He looked at Monte. You see anything that bothers you?

Nah. All boilerplate shit. I've seen it before.

Any problem with the separate agreement for being my super?

That seems reasonable. How much do you want up front?

Five hundred. One month's rent for you. But I want you to sign the lease and the agreement now. Is that OK?

Yeah, you got a pen?

Monte signed one copy of the lease. Gordon took another out of his folder and another copy of the agreement and asked Monte to sign those too. Gordon signed both the documents and gave a copy of each to Monte. Monte didn't have to be asked. He peeled off five hundred dollar bills, handed them to Gordon and asked for a receipt. Gordon filled one out, signed it and gave it to Monte. Monte stuck out his hand with a smile and Gordon shook it. Just then the waitress came with the food and put it on the table. So what happened with Cheri? Gordon asked.

I'd rather not talk about it, he said. I'm over it already. Time to move on.

The next morning, Gordon met Giacomo at the building and showed him the damage. I'll go get some replacement balusters. Only I'll get something a little more substantial. These spindly pieces of crap are too easy to break.

"You wanna changa-dem all?

No, just the broken ones.

But no looka good, se differenti, He said in Itanglish.

I don't care. They don't deserve more. The tenants here are mostly uncivilized. Just replace the broken ones, then paint them black.

I do tomorrow, va bene?

That's fine. I'll get the balusters this afternoon.

You gonna get tenant to pay thisa fix?

I don't think so, Giacomo. Getting them out is enough.

I thinka you too nice. In Italy, we say una person is mettinculo or piglianculo. One or di odder. You shoulda be mettinculo, not di odder.

I never heard that. What's it mean?

A mettinculo is metti in culo means stickit inna da ass. A piglianculo is piglia in culo means take it inna da ass, da one who gets. Better to be mettinculo, no?

Gordon laughed. Italian wisdom, he thought. Gordon's son would love that. Whenever Gordon related one of these headaches, the kid always said, Pop, you're not enough of a prick.

****

Monte had mixed feelings. He was happy that he had a new apartment, great location and low rent. On the other hand, he was a little pissed that Cheri left. It wasn't that he loved her. He didn't, but she was a steady piece and he liked that. He walked up to the convenience store to pick up some empty cartons. He had a lot to pack. He would call Armand to help. Armand had a truck. He figured he could move everything in three trips. With Armand, they could probably do the whole move in about four or five hours.

Packing took him almost two days. He hated moving but, the worst was over. Armand was prompt, but it took longer than Monte figured. It was getting dark when they finished. Thanks, my friend. We'll settle Thursday, like we agreed. OK?

You got it, Monte. He made the phone signal with his hand. "You call, OK?

Monte nodded. I'll call. He was tired. He went into the apartment and plunked himself down on his couch. He had to make the bed but he would unpack tomorrow. He looked up when he heard the door knock. He went to the door and when he opened it, he was surprised to see Cheri. What's up? No place to sleep? Your boyfriend booted you?

I'm sorry, Monte. You know me, I'm jumpy. I get anxious.

That's an excuse to fuck the first guy you meet on North Street who'll give you some shit? He looked at her more closely. You're high. Whatcha on?

Nothing. I didn't take nothing.

Bullshit. I know high when I see it. Whatcha on? he repeated.

"Tony gave me