“You sonofabitch! I think you broke my knee!”
“Yeah, I probably did. Now you can go fucking crawl to get your boss. I’ll fix myself a drink while you do that.”
Fucker!
I flipped the divider that separated the bar from its patrons, and hit the tap on the Coors. As I poured myself a beer, his guy was still yelping in pain on the floor.
In walked the man of the hour. He was confident in his stride. The few patrons that were in the bar who witnessed me taking down Tommy looked up to Jack with nothing but respect. He shook one guy’s hand and announced a free round for everyone, signaling the waitresses over. He whispered in one’s ear, and she nodded in agreement. Jack took notice of me still behind his bar. I wasn’t too sure if he appreciated me being there. Then he called over his shoulder to his two guys who were silently waiting off to the side.
“Take Tommy to the ER, and get him fixed up.”
His guys just nodded and left.
“Help yourself, Jacob. We are family, after all. What’s mine is yours.”
I shut the tap off and walked back around the bar to take a seat beside Jack.
“Really, Jack? Does your guy Tommy know that? With the warm reception I received, I can’t be sure if he received the memo on that.”
“You never can be too careful nowadays…So Jacob, welcome to Chicago. It’s been a long time. What can I do for you?” he asked while lighting up a cigar, never taking his eyes off of me.
“I think you know, Jack. I hear you have eyes and ears everywhere.”
“Nothing wrong with that, son. I protect what’s mine, that’s no crime.”
“Answer me this, Jack. What lengths would you go to
protect
what you say is yours?”
He blew out a few puffs of his cigar and tapped the ashes into the ashtray.
His brown eyes turned cold as he replied, “What wouldn’t I do? Ask any family man that same question, and I would bet everything I own that the answer would be the same. There’s no greater thing on this earth than family. I love mine more than anything else in this world, and from what I know of yours, we are cut from the same cloth.”
“I don’t think so, Jack. You and I are miles apart.”
“Do you have something to say to me, Jacob, or are we going to continue this dance?”
I finished off my beer, slamming the mug down onto the bar. His eyes widened.
Not backing down, I stood tall, stared Jack directly in the eye, and simply replied, “Michael St. Clair.”
I
f you had the power to turn back the clock, would you? Hit the rewind button on your life and just start over? A man can dream, can’t he? Yeah, I would definitely do it if I could. I would pick certain parts...the harder ones I wished I could erase from my mind and never think of again.
As I descended the stairs to the main bar area on the first floor, I saw most of Chicago watching our Bears destroy the Cardinals and sending them back to Arizona in tears. You could feel the energy in the bar, as the game went on to a winning victory.
I loved this bar. I loved that Sara, my wife, the love of my life, convinced me to open it and give back to the neighborhood that always had my back. This was why our bar was called The Neighborhood Bar and Grille. It was a place to have a laugh with a friend, to blow off steam after a hard day’s work, and it was a place that kept me honest, whereas in my younger days, I wasn’t always. I hated to admit that I did some things that I wasn’t proud of, things no matter how hard I tried to forget, would always be present in my memory.
“Jack, you need to do me a favor, and I don’t mean picking up a few packages for me. This is something of a different nature, and one that requires a different approach. Do you think you can help me out here?”
Johnny leaned back in his chair and blew out puffs of smoke from his Cuban cigar. I didn’t hesitate at all with the request. Johnny had paid me well, and I was in his debt. I agreed immediately without knowing what he wanted me to do.
“That’s what I wanted to hear my friend. You are exactly what I need for this job. Go see Carmine. He will give you the details, and once the job is done, you come back here. Understand?”
He took another deep inhale on his cigar, and he waited for my answer.
“Yes, sir. I won’t let you down.”
“That’s good, Jack. I was hoping you would say that. I’m counting on the right message being sent, so our other associates understand what it means to fall in line and never fuck with my business. You make sure they know that crossing Johnny Carlucci is a grave error in judgment, one they will regret.”
After Carmine gave me my instructions, I left to find Mikey. He was holed up in some shitty motel on the east side. As Carmine kicked down the door, Mikey made a run for it. He didn’t know I would be waiting for him on the fire escape. He was trapped with nowhere to run. I shoved him back through the window as Carmine pulled him up from his shoulders. He was scared, just a kid who didn’t know any better, but he should have, working for Johnny Carlucci.
Carmine punched him in the gut, making him fall down to his knees. He was crying and begging for his life. I wasn’t there to end his life, just to send a message. Johnny had told me to make it hurt, a pain he soon would not forget. Carmine taped his mouth, and with my height and weight compared to his small skinny frame, I must have looked like a giant to him. He tried to struggle and fight me back, but I was too strong to be knocked down.
I picked him up with all my strength and smashed his back against my raised up knee. He shrieked in pain, and I dropped him back to the floor. I instantly knew what the force of my attack had accomplished. I felt sick. I needed to get out of there. We just left him there crying in this rat infested motel room.
Carmine pulled the tape from his mouth and whispered into his ear, “You get to live, Mikey. If you’re stupid enough to cross the line again, I’ll come for you and finish what my boy Jackie started.”
His voice was cold, scary as fuck, and downright vicious. We made it outside, and I bent over and vomited all over the sidewalk. Carmine wasn’t fazed by this at all. He hit me on my back and assured me that I would get used to this real quick.
“It’s the life, Jackie.”
I returned that night to Johnny’s office, and he was pleased with me. He handed me an envelope and took me in his arms like a father would do with a son. I felt sick and disloyal to my own father.
“You did good, Jack. Really good.”
I didn’t say anything in return and walked out of his office feeling sicker than I ever had before.
Once upon a time I didn’t think I had a choice, so I took a different road and made my peace with it. I convinced myself that my actions were justified for the betterment of my family. If mama and papa were taken care of, then that meant they didn’t have to work the usual fourteen hour-plus work days that sadly was their life. The only day they didn’t work was Sunday. They spent half of it in church, and then mama would spend the rest of the day cooking over a hot stove so we could have one dinner together that week. We would bow our heads while holding hands and reciting the Lord’s Prayer.
This was important to my parents, so although I was the one at our table committing sin after sin, I silently prayed that I would be forgiven for them. Again, if what I did benefitted my family, then I could live with that.
I’ll never forget when the truck pulled up in front of the brownstone we lived in, and out came a second hand piano. Papa nearly knocked my head in for that one. He didn’t believe the story I told him that it was tossed on the side of the road and free to anyone who wanted it. I just happened to know some guys that could get it to me. This was one lie that I didn’t feel bad about telling. My kid brother, Massimo, was a musical prodigy and needed this piano to show the world his gift. The look on his face was priceless, one I will never forget.
Although they didn’t like it, my parents allowed my brother to keep the piano. Of course the first song he played was “Ava Maria.” My parents wouldn’t say it, but they loved hearing music resonating through our small home. It made them smile, convincing me once again that what I did was justified.
My parents tried with all of their heart and soul to live the American dream. They worked from sun up to sun down and never complained about it. I was the one that had a problem with it and did what I had to do to make things better.
This was how I lived every day of my life. I worked the streets—some say I owned them—but whatever. I did what I had to do to survive and make things better for my family, no matter how much my soul suffered for it. If someone needed my help, I would give everything I could and hope it was enough. I would still fight the good fight and give you the shirt off my back, but I’d like to think that I’m a better man today, someone that papa could be proud of.
No one’s life is perfect—hell I knew that better than anyone—but the life I was now living came pretty close to perfection. It was clean with no ugliness in it. I was blessed with two gifts: one being my beautiful Sara, my miracle, and the other was my daughter, Nicolette.
Nicolette was my entire world, my sole reason for waking up every day. She made me smile, and Sara made me want to be a better man who was deserving of her love. With all the sins of my past, I probably didn’t deserve either one of them, but I was blessed anyway with their goodness and love.
The dream of becoming a father ended on the day my wife was diagnosed with cancer. I nearly lost her and begged God I would try to be a better man if he would spare her life. Sara beat her cancer and thankfully was still in remission and doing well. From then on, I would not live by past sins that used to define me. I would simply move forward with Sara and live happily and thankful for what I’d been given…another chance to make it right.
I maintained to keep that promise, and when my only brother was struggling, I found a way to give back. Family was everything to me. All he and I had was each other after our parents passed away almost back to back. I gave him and his wife...a life. They were childless and were not able to conceive on their own. It was probably the only unselfish act I ever did in my life. I never claimed her as my own, because she was never meant to be mine. It was an act so pure and beautiful, knowing I was part of a living miracle that blessed our family, erasing the ugly parts that I longed to forget.
I never felt I was deserving of anything good, but Sara proved me wrong by just loving me unconditionally. When Nicolette was born she would forever be my niece. You would have to be blind not to notice the strong physical resemblance we shared. But again, I shared the same likeness with my brother, so no one ever questioned it. I nicknamed her Nickel, because the day she came into the world, I said she was shiny and new like a brand new coin. It always stuck, and she loved the term of endearment, as our beautiful girl grew into her own.
Nicolette and I were very close, almost inseparable at times. There wasn’t a single moment or milestone in her life that we didn’t share. My brother never reneged on our agreement. I would always play a role in her life as long as we understood our roles. Biologically, I was her father, but only one man would claim her as his, and that was my brother, Massimo.
Our given names were Vanelli, but our parents changed it to Vanelle. They thought it would be easier on us if we lost the vowel sound at the end, and this way we sounded more American. I resented them for that, and for the first time in my life, I was disappointed in my own parents. They took that choice away from me, but even though I promised to accept our new name, I always used Vanelli. Another lie they didn’t need to know about.
After they died, my brother changed his name to Mason. You couldn’t get more preppy than that, but he was building a life for himself, and it was separate from the life we knew. I never liked it and most of the time called him the name our parents had given him. He would get angry with me and accuse me of being stubborn and unwilling to change my ways. Oh, if he only knew how much I changed to be the man he knew me to be today.