Chapter 15
FRANKIE
Ihaven’t suffered any panic attacks since my visit to Sofia’s apartment two days ago. It’s as if her sweet caresses cured me. Now, instead of dwelling on all the impending work, I catch glimpses of her breasts in my memory, drawing me back to that perfect moment we shared on the couch.
We’ve been texting each other regularly.
I even had a chance to focus on the bar exam, although not for hours on end like I used to.
I spent some time talking to Marlena. She’s busy designing the nursery in one of the spare rooms. She bent my ear about colors and furniture, saying that she wants an old-fashioned rocking chair instead of a newer, plush one for midnight feedings.
I’m still nervous about the baby and about the test, but I’m supposed to shadow Uncle Gio at work today, so that trumps everything. But as anxious as I am, it hasn’t risen to the level of a panic attack. Sofia cured me.
I roll out of bed at seven in the morning, and I dress to impress. Last night, Uncle Gio pulled me aside and told me exactly what I need to do to get ready. He instructed me to wear a business suit.
“You’re the son of the boss,” he said. “You need to look the part.”
So, I pick one of the many suits out of my closet and get dressed.
I choose a red tie with a blue diamond pattern, one that I hope looks sufficiently powerful.
I don’t need to intimidate anyone, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try.
This is a new role for me, and I’m not sure if I’ll fit in.
But I must give it my all. I owe my father that much.
I reach for an energy drink before going downstairs.
I have a small stash in my room that I use for studying, but this seems even more important to start my day.
Whether I become a lawyer, I’ll always be my father’s son.
And no matter what happens with the new baby, I’m still first in line for the throne.
“Ready to go?” Uncle Gio asks when I arrive in the living room.
He’s wearing a suit with no tie. His shirt unbuttoned at the top so that you can see a hint of his chest. It’s a different vibe. I feel more like a lawyer, and he looks more like a mafioso.
“Should I lose the tie?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he agrees.
I pull the tie off and toss it onto the couch. Someone will come along and clean it up, I’m sure. We skip our morning coffee and go straight to work. Getting into the car, Giovanni chooses to drive himself.
“It’s all about appearances,” he says as he maneuvers his way through the gate. “Sometimes you want a driver, sometimes you want to drive yourself. It depends on how many witnesses you want or whether you need people to see you as rich.”
“So today we don’t want to be seen as rich?” I ask.
“It’s a balancing act,” he explains. “There’s money, and there’s power, but there’s also work. So today, we’re working.”
I’m not sure I understand, but I keep that to myself. It doesn’t bode well that he doesn’t want any witnesses. I know our drivers are loyal to the family and they would never say anything even if they were in a room while Gio was breaking kneecaps. But I’m here to learn, so I keep my mouth shut.
The first place he goes is a laundromat. I’m surprised since this place wasn’t on my radar. I never paid much attention to what my father did, but I thought I had a good grasp of all his various businesses.
“Does my father own this place?” I ask.
“No,” Gio responds. “We’re just here to collect money.”
“Okay,” I agree. I’m making a mental calculation, running through all the various crimes that we could be committing. As a law student, I have a pretty comprehensive grasp of the criminal code. This feels like a shakedown. Maybe it’s some kind of protection racket.
I follow Uncle Gio around the back and watch as he knocks on the door. A moment later, an older woman pokes her head out. She looks scared. Her eyes dart from Uncle Gio to me, as if expecting one of us to attack her.
“Hello,” I say.
Gio frowns, shaking his head at me.
I get the message loud and clear: I’m only here to observe. Gio clears his throat, waiting patiently for the woman to get with the program. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a wad of cash. Gio takes it, counts it slowly, and then nods.
We walk away and get back in the car. I haven’t done anything yet, but already I feel dirty. “What would we have done if she hadn’t given us the money?” I ask.
Gio looks at me hard. “Whatever we have to do.”
I swallow, not liking the sound of that. “You can’t expect me to beat up little old ladies.”
Gio releases the parking brake and swings back out of the parking lot. “Don’t worry. That’s street-level stuff.”
“So, why are we doing this?” I ask.
“I’m showing you the ropes,” he says. “You gotta know all the ins and outs of the business if you’re going to run it effectively.”
“So that was protection?” I ask. Since we’re being honest, and I’m supposed to be learning, I figure we can just put all our cards on the table.
“It’s an arrangement we have with the vendors in this area,” Gio confirms.
“And we have the same arrangement with all the vendors?” I wonder.
“A few of them,” he says.
“So, what about the people who don’t have this arrangement?” I continue, trying to sort it all out in my head.
“That comes later,” he assures me, and I have a sinking feeling I’m not going to like what comes later.
The next stop on our criminal tour is a movie theater. Nothing surprises me by now, so I simply get out of the car when Gio does and follow him into the building. The place isn’t open for customers yet, but Uncle Gio has a key.
We go past the box office to an arcade in the corner.
Gio walks around to the cash register in the back, like he owns the place.
He inserts a key, and the drawer slides open.
He pulls out the tray that holds all the small bills and goes straight for a stack that’s lying at the bottom.
Fitting the stash into his jacket pocket, he replaces the tray and slams it shut.
We’re off again, this time to a coffee shop. We get free coffee, and Gio has a discussion with the manager.
“This is Frankie, Cisco’s son,” Gio introduces me.
“Good to meet you, Mr. Corello,” the manager says, holding out his hand.
He’s being friendly, but I can tell that he’s scared.
“Good to meet you,” I return the sentiment.
The manager looks at me strangely, as if I’m a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
He expects me to be rough, like Gio, but I’m not.
Or at least I don’t appear that way. I’m going to have to affect some kind of rough guy exterior if my father expects me to run these rounds myself.
There’s no way I can bully anyone into anything by just being myself.
Gio slaps the guy on the back, and we part ways. I get back into the car, feeling like I’ve learned a ton already. “This is what you do all day?” I ask.
“Pretty much,” he replies. “Every day is different. Different shops, different people, but mostly collecting money. That’s what we do on Tuesdays, anyway.”
“What do you do on Wednesdays?” I wonder.
“I guess you’ll see,” he promises, and not nicely.
Around eleven o’clock, we hit up our first restaurant. Gio throws his paper coffee cup in the trash before entering through the front door. It’s a large chain restaurant, the kind that my father wouldn’t be caught dead in.
“We’re here to meet someone,” Gio fills me in.
I keep my mouth shut, knowing that there’s a time and a place for questions, and this isn’t it. I’m half expecting the manager to come out and speak with us, but he doesn’t. Instead, a guy I’ve never seen before walks in and signals to Gio.
“Table for three,” Gio instructs the hostess.
“Right this way, sir,” she says, showing us to a seat.
“This is Frankie, Cisco’s son,” Gio says to the guy.
“Frankie,” the guy responds.
“This is Norm Hollings, he’s the representative from local 506,” Gio informs me.
I go back through my internal catalog of job titles, reminding myself that local 506 is a union. Therefore, Norm Hollings must be in charge of organized labor. He’s not there to slip Gio money. Instead, they talk about the labor situation down on the docks.
“I’ve got twenty new men,” Norm says. “They’re all looking for overtime, if you know what I mean.”
“Twenty?” Gio confirms.
“That’s right,” Norm says.
“Alright,” Gio responds. “I’ll talk to Cisco.”
“Much appreciated,” Norm replies.
The waitress arrives, and we place our orders. I’m not sure if we’re going to have another chance to eat, so I order a hamburger. I don’t have to worry though, by the time the day is over, we’ve eaten at four different restaurants.
The first one, we were there to confer with Norm. The second one is a meeting with a banker. The third is a meeting with a bookmaker, and the fourth is a meeting with two policemen.
I’m surprised to see our city’s finest sitting down with a known mafioso. But I shouldn’t be. Of course, my father has contacts in the force. How else could he continue his operations without getting caught?
Gio introduces me, and I try not to look nervous. I’m going to be a lawyer, for God’s sake, I shouldn’t be breaking bread with two corrupt cops. But this is the life I lead, so I might as well get used to it.
“How did you get started with my father?” I ask the police officers politely.
Gio shoots me a look that says, ‘shut up.’ But the police officer is more forgiving. “Your father helped me out of a jam once, and I’m grateful,” he explains.
I don’t ask what the jam was or how my father helped.
My imagination is filling in the details, supposing that maybe the officer killed someone, and my father helped bury the body.
I hope that’s not what happened, but I can’t be sure.
The more I learn about my father’s operation, the more I realize I had no clue what was going on in our home.
He’s got connections with unions, bankers, politicians, and the police.
He’s got people handing him money or allowing him to walk into their premises and help himself to their cash.
All of this must be predicated on the threat of violence, and that doesn’t sit well with me.
It’s a legacy I’ve been born into, but not one I want to continue.
Gio glances at me sympathetically, returning to his agenda once it’s clear that I’m finished interrupting.
We end that meeting by sliding some of the cash we’ve collected that day across the table. The two cops pick it up and put it discreetly in their pockets. I feel nauseous. I shouldn’t be witnessing this kind of thing. No wonder Uncle Gio didn’t want to bring a driver.
We get back in the car and I’m feeling stuffed.
I’ve eaten three small meals in the space of two hours, including a hamburger at that first place.
At this rate, I’m going to get fat overnight.
It’s a wonder Uncle Gio isn’t wearing a few extra pounds, especially when he spends his days munching on carbs.
“Where to now?” I joke.
He gives me a warm smile. “We don’t have anywhere to be for another hour. Do you want to grab a bite?”
“Of food?” I croak. “No, thanks.”
He shrugs. “Alright.” He rolls down the car window and slides his seat back, apparently deciding to wait it out in the car.
I feel kind of like a police officer on a stakeout. We’re not doing anything for the time being, so we might as well talk. “Do you like this job?” I ask.
Uncle Gio bursts out laughing. I’m not sure what I said to make him double over like that, but I’m guessing that liking the job isn’t a prerequisite. “Ah, kid, you’re something else. How is your life going? We don’t get a chance to talk much, just the two of us.”
“You’re busy; I’m busy,” I make the excuses. “But since you asked, I actually met someone.”
“A girl?” he asks.
“Yes, a girl,” I confirm. “She wants to become a writer. She’s really sweet and very pretty. She’s also got a lot of common sense.”
“And?” Gio wonders.
“And what?” I reply.
“How is she in the sack?” he teases.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “We haven’t gotten that far yet.”
“So, it’s serious?” he assumes.
“We’re not officially going out, but I guess you could say it’s serious,” I elaborate. “I like her as more than just a sex object.”
“Hmm,” Gio muses, turning his attention to the parking lot outside our window.
“I’m guessing you’re not one for romance,” I conclude.
“That’s your father’s deal,” Gio agrees. “I’m just trying to get through each day.”
“That sounds lonely,” I reply.
Gio shakes his head. “I don’t get lonely.”
“Why not?” I ask.
“Too much going on,” he responds. “Not everyone’s cut out for love.”
I feel sorry for him. I never thought I would be in a position where I had something that Uncle Gio didn’t have.
But here I am. My relationship with Sofia isn’t set in stone, but it’s something.
There’s the promise of something just over the horizon, and I feel lucky to have that.
Without love, I think I would be much worse off than I am right now.
Even shadowing Gio on his rounds is made more palatable because I know I can go home and text Sofia.
Not that I’m going to tell her what I did all day, but just to let her know I’m thinking about her.
“What do you think about the new baby?” I ask, since we’re being honest.
“I hope it’s a boy,” he responds.
“Why?” I ask, wondering if this is some kind of old-world nonsense.
“’Cause if it’s a girl, eventually I’m gonna be arrested for killing someone who looks at her the wrong way,” Gio teases, giving me a toothy smile. I think he’s kind of attractive when he smiles like that, but he doesn’t show his true colors often, so it would be difficult for other people to see.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get you off on a technicality,” I joke, referring to my future as a mob lawyer.
Gio laughs uproariously, slapping me on the back.
“You should smile more,” I inform him. “Maybe then you could find someone to fall in love with.”
“You’re barking up the wrong tree,” he says. “I’m too old for that nonsense.”
“My father wasn’t,” I say.
“I ain’t your father,” he retorts, shutting me down.
It’s true that Uncle Gio isn’t my father, but he’s been like a father-figure to me. When Francisco was too busy to play ball with me or take me to the movies, Gio often did. So, I have a certain amount of affection for him, regardless of his habitually stern expression.