THE BLUE SUIT
Conversations between the mayor’s Blue Suit and Josh Resnek
“I am not certain but I believe the mayor got himself into a bad hole recently and he’s trying to get out – in fact – he’s already out but the hole hasn’t been plugged.”
– The Blue Suit speaking with Josh Resnek
“What’s your week been like?” I asked the Blue Suit.
He straightened his sleeves and tucked at his lapels. He fixed his tie, fidgeting with it as many of us do when we wear such clothing.
“How do you think I look?” he asked me.
We were in front of Glendale Park, waiting at the light, talking in my red Honda Fit. It was Tuesday afternoon. Kind of windy and cold but in the sunshine, much warmer – a beautiful day.
I told the Blue Suit to get out of the car and to stand on the sidewalk.
I joined him on the sidewalk.
“You’re looking good,” I said to him. “Considering your age, you look fantastic. No rips. No tears. No wrinkles. You’re leather belt is cool. Your shirt and tie fit you just right. All around, I’d say you’re in tip top shape.”
The Blue Suit gushed.
“Thank you, Josh,” he said to me.
Several people driving by saw us standing on the sidewalk. Mike Marchese blew his horn at us as he passed by in his big black Mercedes.
The Blue Suit waved at him.
“I know Mike. To know Mike is to like Mike. The mayor can’t stand Mike. I’d say he hates Mike, and with quite a passion these days,” the Blue Suit told me.
Then Anthony DiPierro drove past us.
He waved at the Blue Suit. He gave me a thumbs down and went his way in his Mercedes – which recently needed an expensive repair that he didn’t want to make – or to pay for.
Anthony had a bit of a tan, the result of his recent trip to Aruba. “you like Anthony?”
I asked the Blue Suit.
“I don’t know anymore,” he answered.
‘What do you mean?” I asked.
“I always thought he was a decent guy but I get the feeling when he smiles at me and waves he might be saying something nasty under his breath,” the Blue Suit responded.
“Hey, what can you expect,” he added parenthetically. “He’s the mayor’s cousin.Those two think alike. I know lately he’s been making the rounds of the city believing he’s going to be the next mayor.”
“You think so?” I asked the Blue Suit.
“Who else is there?” I asked.
“Jason Marcus or Mike Mangan,” the Blue Suit joked.
“Very funny,” I said in reply.
Now Eric Demas drove by us. He snarled at both of us and gave us both the thumbs down sign. He was smoking a cigarette. He looked hassled like he had just lost $40,000 in the city budget that didn’t have a name attached to it.”
“Very funny, Josh. You talking about the mayor’s longevity?”
“Of course I am,” I said to the Blue Suit. “Where but in this city could the mayor who by law was supposed to be paid $2,500 a year end up receiving $40,000 a year, with important public officials all complaining they were confused by the wording of the ordinance,” I asked.
As we were both getting back into the car, a red truck driven by the mayor came side to side on the driver’s side. I rolled down my window. The mayor rolled his down.
“It really smells around here,” he said to me.
“Wait until I get home,” he said to the Blue Suit. “What are you doing with him?” he admonished the Blue Suit. Then the mayor like his fingers were a scissors and he was pretending to cut something.
Then he took off.
“That’s a very bad sign of how I’m going to be treated when he gets home. Of all the people to see me with you it had to be him,” the Blue Suit sighed.
We drove around the city for a while. We talked about a variety of things.
We talked about the mayor wanting to buy part of the Revere Beach Parkway.
“Haven’t you always wanted to own part of a highway?” the Blue Suit asked me.
“Not really,” I replied.
We both laughed.
“What’s up with that?” I asked.
“That’s for me to know and for you to find out, Josh.”
“Does it have anything to do with the sale of the stadium?” “That’s for me to know and for you to find out, Josh,” the Blue Suit repeated.
We drove down the Parkway and I wondered, “What’s up with the mayor wanting to own part of the Parkway?”
I suppose we will find out soon enough.
“What this hole that you said earlier the mayor had dug and which hadn’t yet been filled?” I asked.
“Its called gambling, Josh. The mayor loves casino gambling.
He loves the rush it gives him. When he’s in a high stakes game, he feels not like a mayor but more like a king or a big time personality. But when he loses, as he did recently – something like $25,000 I heard him tell a friend, that was very bad. He had to pay up. I was even told he called Steve Wynn to ask him to take care of it for him,” the Blue Suit said to me.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said. “I’m not,” the Blue Suit answered. Did Steve answer the call?”
“I believe he did.”
“How did the conversation start?” I asked.
“Steve said, ‘”Hello, Carlos. How are you my dear friend, Are you calling just to say hello or are you calling because you need… monnnney, lots of monnnney.’”
“Are you serious?” I asked.
“I’m as serious as I’d be if my pants split,” the Blue Suit answered.
“I don’t know if Steve put up the money but someone had to. The $25,000 had to be paid,” the Blue Suit told me.
“I know this,” he said to me, “when you pay out dough like that, it leaves a hole that needs to be filled.”
“That hole hasn’t been filled yet.”