Warning: Language

While Nicholson was trying to warn Amato, he was sitting in front of his television watching the Mets take on the Toronto Blue Jays.  In his black leather recliner, Amato ate his dinner and began to decompress from his encounter with Special Agent Cohen.  In the middle of the stretch he heard a knock at his door.  Cautiously, he opened the door just a crack and to his surprise, it was his old buddy Jimmy Schiavone. Opening the door all the way, he saw the look on Jimmy’s face, “Uh, oh!” Amato exclaimed, knowing something was up.  “Lemme guess, Cohen sent you?”

“What, no hello or how ya doin’?” Jimmy exclaimed.

Rolling his eyes Amato played along, “Okay, hello, how ya dooin’?” he said poking fun at Jimmy’s Long Island accent.

“Prick!  You mockin’ the one guy that single handedly saved your ass?”

“Single handed, eh?” Amato caught him exaggerating.

“Okay, I had a little help,” Jimmy confessed as he walked into Amato’s apartment.

Closing the door behind him, Amato muttered, “This is gonna be a long day.”

Seeing he was watching the game, Jimmy sat down on the couch and asked, “What’s the score, yo?”

“Mets, 6-2”

“Just in time,” Jimmy said making himself at home.

Returning to his chair, Amato sat back and waited for it.  Looking over at his plate, Jimmy asked, “Hey what you eatin’ over there?”

“Vegan eggplant parmesan.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“What, eggplant parmesan?”

“No that other shit you said.”

“What, vegan parmesan?”

“Yeah, what’s this vegan shit I keep hearing about?” Jimmy asked curiously.

“It’s means no animal or animal by-products.” Amato answered.

“So what the fuck is on the eggplant if it ain’t cheese?”

“You know, soy or cashew.”

“Brotha, ever since you and Irene broke up, things haven’t been the same for you.  I ain’t neva seen an Italian put fake cheese on his food,” he said snickering.

Throwing his towel at Jimmy, he asked the big question, “Okay, Jimbo what’s up?”

Looking visibly uncomfortable, Jimmy clasped his hands as if he was trying to come up with the right words.  As he looked about the room, he finally returned his gaze to Amato, then confessed, “It’s Cohen, he’s requesting your personnel file.”

“So what?” Amato responded, unimpressed.

“You don’t know this guy Amato, he’s a total dick.  He’s sacked more than one guy in his day and it looks like he’s got his sights set on you.”

“Thanks for the warning Jimmy, but I’m a big boy and can handle myself.”

Putting his hands up Jimmy said, “I’m just the messenger, Nicholson wanted me to warn you.”

Just as he said that, the crowd on television erupted in cheers as the Mets shut down the Blue Jays.  The ending was anticlimactic but Jimmy seemed to be thrilled that the game ended in a win.  Getting up he announced, “I’ll see myself out, just remember to watch your back from now on.”

“It’s the only way I know how to roll.” Amato reassured him.

When Jimmy left, Amato was alone to contemplate whether or not he would bother participating in this case.  After all, Cassandra Fenetti wasn’t necessarily in need of his help.  She was probably on the other side of the planet, if she were smart.  However something told him, that this wasn’t the case.  Feeling it in his gut, he knew she was nearby and if Cohen approached her, she might blow his head off.  So all in all, if he kept his hands off the wheel, Cassandra would take care of his Cohen problem.  Smiling, the idea did appeal to him.  Nonetheless, there was piece of him that needed to see her again.  Amato wasn’t sure if it schadenfreude, or if he actually had feelings for her.  No matter the case, it was stupid of him to come running when she was in trouble, not after she two-timed him.  So what was he going to do when he saw her again, say I told you so?  Having dragged his feet for nearly half the day, he rose to his feet and declared, “Okay Amato, it’s time to get that damsel.”  Slipping his feet into a pair of rubber soled Oxfords, he grabbed his badge and gun then went out the front door.  Standing outside in the hall was none other than Jimmy, “Jesus Christ, Amato, you take foreva to do right,” he complained.

“Sorry, I forgot we were in this together.”

“Damn straight,” Jimmy said popping his collar.

Seeing him getting psyched up, Amato chuckled and asked, “Whose car are we taking General?” referring to his old street name.

Without batting an eyelash, Jimmy answered, “Whatcha working with?”

“I got a 2017 Chevy Camaro,”

“When they bring that back?”

“Oh about 2010, you probably didn’t notice since you were busy gerneraling and all.” Amato said in jest.

“Yeesh!  It’s like the 80’s all over again.”

Pushing the button on the elevator, Amato said, “Before my time, brotha,” as the door opened, as they both stepped inside.  Jimmy pushed the button to the ground floor and like that, they were on to their next adventure, just like old times.