And that made her want him. Want him enough to spend three years of her collegiate career to being only with him.
“Wake up, sleepy boy.” She nudged him off of her shoulder.
“Right. Right. What were we on?” He wiped the cobwebs from his eyes and tried to focus again on the textbook in his lap. He had only been in school for three years, but had quickly caught up with Rachel in terms of credits. He studied harder than anyone else at the university, and only went out when Rachel made him. They’d both be in cap and gown that May.
“Maybe I just need to wake you up a bit.” She placed a hand on his thigh.
“Come on, Rach. I have to finish studying first.” A grin creased his lips, and she could tell he was tempted, but no boy she had ever met could resist a temptation like Sonny Consentino.
The most difficult hurdle for their romance was the way her parents felt about it. When her father heard she was dating a Sicilian, he pitched a fit and threatened to stop paying for her tuition. She knew that wasn’t going to happen, though; she could charm her father like any other fellow. Her mother, on the other hand, immediately set about compiling a list of a dozen or so eligible Jewish bachelors. In time, though, Sonny had won them over by the considerate way he tended to Rachel, and the mature manner in which he could carry on a conversation with her father about the intricacies of finance.
“Fine.” She pouted and leaned back on the bed, pushing away her own textbook with the bottom of her bare foot.
A knock sounded on the door, and her brother, Alfred, entered without waiting for permission.
He cocked an eyebrow when he saw Sonny in bed beside his sister.
“Well, hello, old boy. I wasn’t expecting to see you here this time of evening.”
“The resident assistant knows and said she’d tell me if anyone in the faculty comes snooping,” Rachel replied for him. She didn’t like it when Alfred came around Sonny. He made all kinds of sideways comments meant to belittle him and his ethnicity. Sonny accepted it all with patience, but Rachel knew there had to be a limit to what he could endure. The repressed strength she knew was within her sheik was something that enthralled her, but she hoped it wouldn’t be her brother who would get the brunt of his aggression if Sonny ever unleashed it.
“No matter. Actually, you’re just the fellow I wanted to talk to. Some of the other law students and I were planning a little function to celebrate the new semester. Do you think you could get us some…you know?” He leaned in and lowered his voice, needlessly cryptic.
“No, what?” Sonny replied, sitting up in bed and distancing himself from Rachel slightly.
“Hooch.”
“Umm”—Sonny smiled but furrowed his brows—“no, I don’t think I could get you any. Why would I be able to do that?”
“Well, you know.” Alfred leaned back, grinned, and shrugged. “You know what they say about Italians.”
“No, what do they say?”
“Alfred, stop!” Rachel gritted her teeth and shot him a look he knew the meaning of.
“What? I just mean you often have relatives in the trade of alcohol!”
“Get out, Al! That’s enough.”
He laughed and shook his head. Sonny said nothing but clenched his jaw.
“Who salted your undies? You know it’s true.”
“I’m not Italian. I’m Sicilian.”
Alfred shot them both a look of confusion.
“What’s the difference?”
“He can’t get you any drink, Alfred. Any other reason for your social call?” Rachel rolled her eyes. This was just like him. It wasn’t simply that he was rude, but he delighted in how much it bothered her.
“So you really can’t get us anything? We might even let you two lovebirds come if you—”
“No! He can’t.”
“Fine. Well, if you talk to any of your cousins, and something changes, just let me know.” Alfred tipped his hat and left the room, whistling on his way out.
“Sonny, I’m so sorry…” She closed her eyes and placed a hand on her forehead. It was one thing to have backward parents, but why did her brother have to be the biggest jerk on campus?
“No, don’t worry about it. He’s right, you know… A lot of the men back on Mulberry sell alcohol. They don’t even hide it.”
“But…none of your family members, right?” she asked, and immediately regretted it. She should have added that it didn’t matter to her either way.
Sonny considered his answer.
“I don’t know, honestly. My father paid for my tuition, and I’m not sure how he could have on a barber’s budget. And then there’s always my brothers… No one knows what they’re doing, but they’ve been in trouble before.”
“Hush. It doesn’t matter. My brother is an intolerable ass.” She swung a leg over his waist and unbuttoned the top of her blouse. “Now, put that textbook down. I’m not asking this time.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He shoved the book off his lap and leaned back.
Talking about his family was always painful for Sonny. Luckily, she knew just how to get his mind off the subject.
HEARINGS BEFORE THE
PERMANENT SUBCOMMITTEE ON INVESTIGATIONS
OF THE
COMMITTEE ON GOVERNMENT OPERATIONS
UNITED STATES SENATE
EIGHTY-EIGHTH CONGRESS
THIRD SESSION
PURSUANT TO SENATE RESOLUTION 17
SEPTEMBER 29, 1963
Chairman: Mr. Valachi, this committee is trying to collect as much information as we can on Vincente Consentino and his associates. There are many crimes from the late nineteen twenties and early nineteen thirties that have been associated with him. Can you tell the committee exactly when you believe he became involved in organized crime?
Mr. Valachi: I can’t give an exact date. No.
Chairman: Your best approximation will do, then. Was he involved in organized crime before attending Columbia University? Or during his time there?
Mr. Valachi: Maybe, but I don’t think so. He was known as a square john until late in the twenties.
Chairman: A “square john”? Explain to the committee what that means.
Mr. Valachi: Yeah, a law-abiding citizen.
Chairman: Did Vincente “Sonny” Consentino ever discuss how he was able to pay for his education?
Mr. Valachi: His father paid.
Chairman: Alonzo Consentino? The barber?
Mr. Valachi: We all thought the same thing as well.
Chairman: If Vincente Consentino was a law-abiding citizen up until this time, what do you suspect led him to be connected with a series of murders beginning in 1930? There are missing persons cases from that time that are still open.
Mr. Valachi: Most of us believed it was after what happened to his father.
Chairman: What do you mean, exactly?
Mr. Valachi: After they found his father the way they did, Sonny changed. He became one of us.
Sonny
Columbia University, Manhattan—November 11, 1928
Sonny stopped and fixed his tie in the mirror. He was quite pleased with himself. He was no Joe Brooks, but at the behest of his friends, he had saved up for a porkpie hat and some more fashionable knickerbockers. After what felt like a thousand requests, he had finally attempted dancing. He couldn’t get the hang of the Charleston, not one bit, but after hours of practice in solitude, he was beginning to be just fine at the fox-trot.
He hadn’t been out dancing yet, and he knew it would please the girl he had been keeping company with.
He was still the same Sonny, he told himself. Still quiet and reserved, much like his father, but there was something about that that appealed to the other college students at Columbia, and the baby vamps at the all-female Barnard College just down the road.
“Wow, look at you,” Rachel said from the doorway. Sonny jolted with surprise, causing Rachel to laugh at him.
“What are you doing in here? No girls in the dormitory.”
“No, I can’t go. I told you, it’s my sister’s birthday!”
“But you look so nice tonight.” She pouted her lips and batted her eyelashes. She could convince him to do just about anything, but missing his sister’s eighteenth birthday dinner was the exception.
“Wish I could. Think any of the fellas will try to dance with you tonight?” Sonny asked bashfully.
“I don’t think so.” She pointed to the fraternity pin he had given her, now attached to her lapel. At Columbia University, it was as binding as a wedding ring.
“Let me know if they do. I’ll rough ’em up.”
“So I’ll have to dance all alone?” She pouted again, but then smiled and stepped away.
They heard footsteps running down the hall, and Rachel vanished behind his drapes.
“We see you, Sheba,” Sonny’s fraternity brother, who went by his last name, Johnson, said, peering into the room. A few of his other brothers followed behind.
“Shucks.” She came out from behind her hiding place.
“Look at this guy!” the brothers said as they came into the room, teasing Sonny.
“You must be headed to a petting party, all dressed up like that,” Johnson said, patting him on the back.
“No. It’s the first time I’m seeing my folks in a while. Just want to look nice.” In all honesty, he wanted to ensure he was sharply dressed if Enzo and Vico happened to show up. But he forced the thought from his mind.
“Wait, so you aren’t coming?” said another brother, who was called Catfish for his habit of “bottom-feeding” on the less than attractive girls.
“I can’t. I told you fellas that.”
“You’re all wet, Sonny! Some girl from Barnard said she knows someone who knows someone, and they’re bringing a case of hooch. You really aren’t coming?”
“No use in trying, boys,” Rachel said, touching Sonny on the arm with her gloved hands. “I’ve tried everything and can’t get him to crack.” They shook their heads at him and went off to bother someone else. “What are you all going to do?”
“We’re going to get Maria a cannoli at Ferrara in Little Italy, maybe eat something first. I’d still love to have you come along, Rachel,” Sonny said, but didn’t plan on attempting to convince her. She was just as stubborn as he was.
“Well, maybe we can take her to a talkie afterward? She’s eighteen now, after all, and I heard The Singing Fool is a riot.”
“My pa might even let her. He’s still on cloud nine after the Yankees swept the World Series. We’ll see.”
“Well, I’ll let you get ready, then.” She leaned on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, leaving a smear of scarlet.
“Vincente?” a voice came from the door. Sonny looked, finding his resident assistant. To Sonny’s horror, the RA had already seen a girl in the dorm, which meant trouble.
“Yeah?” No point in hiding now. The short RA looked at him through glasses that magnified his eyes threefold, and they seemed serious. He didn’t even seem to mind Rachel. “Yeah, what is it?”
“Somebody rang for you. We have the call on hold in the lobby.”
“Well, who is it?” Sonny popped on his hat.
“Sounds serious.” He scurried off. Rachel clutched his hands between her own, and they hurried downstairs.
Little Italy, Manhattan—November 11, 1928
Sonny had left the moment he’d picked up the phone, leaving Rachel standing in the lobby.
He didn’t believe it.
He wouldn’t believe it. It wasn’t true.
He hopped in a taxicab and told the man he’d pay him everything he had in his wallet to get him back to Little Italy as quickly as he could.
The voice on the other end of the line was his little sister’s. After the receptionist had told him that, he’d picked up the phone, beginning to recite “Happy Birthday” to the best of his ability. When he heard the sobs coming from the other end of the line, he paused.
He heard what she said, but she was hysterical. She must have been wrong. Or he must have misunderstood.
Sonny left immediately, without offering an explanation to Rachel or anyone else.
He jumped out of the taxi before it came to a full stop, following the growing crowd to A.C. Barbers.
He pushed through the crowd, shoulder checking anyone who stood in his way.
“Hold it. Stop. Stop!” The policemen baring the entrance tried to restrain him.
“He’s my dad!” Sonny’s voice was hoarse. He pushed through.
There on the floor of his barbershop was Alonzo. Rosa was on top of him, her hands covered in blood, and her face distorted into a perpetual scream, although no noise was omitted.
“Papà!” Sonny rushed to him. But was forced to take a step back. Alonzo’s eyes, still opened, stared off at the ceiling. He expected them to blink, but instead, Alonzo remained indifferent to the world around him.
Sonny spotted the single bullet hole in his father’s head. Dark blood pooled up beneath his head and at the hem of his chesterfield overcoat.
Sonny moaned and fell to his knees beside his mother.
Rosa looked at him and lifted her frail, blood-covered hands, perplexed.
Sonny couldn’t breathe. Everything melted but his father before him, mangled and lifeless. He felt strong arms wrap around him and pull him to his feet.
“No…no…” Drool spilled from his lips, and his vision was distorted through the lens of his tears. “No…no.” The policemen removed him from the building, as gently as they could. His father faded from view and into the darkness.
Part III
Maria
Little Italy, Manhattan—November 15, 1928
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted,” the father said as the coffin was laid down atop its grave. Maria couldn’t bear to look. She looked to her mother, whose face was covered by a black veil. Still, it couldn’t hide her tears. “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the kingdom of God.”
The pallbearers, Sonny, Enzo, Vico, and Oscar found their seats in the front row. Sonny let his tears roll without covering them. His face was still, calm, but his eyes were full of torment. Enzo and Vico were also crying. It was the first time Maria had seen them since Alonzo had ushered them out of the tenement, but they always wore their emotions on their sleeve. It was easy to tell that they were struggling as much as the rest of them. Perhaps their guilt over the past compounded the pain as well.
The coffin began to lower. Rosa let out a moan, and fell over against Vico, who held her in his arms.
Several of Little Italy’s residents had come to pay their respects. Some of them were the Italians who hadn’t been very friendly at the offset but whom Alonzo had eventually won over with cordiality and good haircuts.
“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled,” the father continued.
Others had come too. Several men Maria had never met were present, and their cars were lined up along Mott Street with chauffeurs waiting outside the doors.
When the coffin found its resting place, the father said his final verse. Those gathered bowed their heads to pray. Maria at first closed her eyes, but then looked at those in attendance. Sonny’s head was raised, his eyes fixed on the coffin.
“Amen,” the priest said. Everyone rose from their seats
and began the procession away from the gravesite. Rosa could hardly walk. The twins stabilized her, but they could still take only a few steps at a time. Perhaps that was the one solace in this tragedy: the family had been brought back together, as if Alonzo was the one thing that had been keeping them apart.
Rosa had not been well. After they had discovered Alonzo’s body, she had refused to clean the blood from her hands, saying she wouldn’t “wash away her husband.” She hadn’t eaten, and had barely talked.
Sonny rested on the arm of his young dame, Rachel, their hands interlocked. Maria had become exceedingly fond of her, not only for her marvelous sense of fashion but also for the way she had been a bedrock for Sonny throughout this time. She hadn’t left his side, which was apparent in this moment, as she seemed to be the only thing keeping Sonny on his feet.
As worried as Maria had been about her mother, she was just as frightened for her brother. Sonny lived by his father’s word. They had always been best friends, even during his time at Columbia.
“Maria?” said a gentle voice from behind her. She turned to find a young man she did not know. He wore a slicked-back undercut, and had a handsome face. She could tell by the way he held himself that he was a soldier. She stopped and waited for him to continue, but he struggled to find his words. “I met your father before he passed. I could tell that he loved you very much. He was a good man.” Maria hadn’t expected this, and she began to sob.
He materialized a handkerchief and held it out to her.
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