Mean Little People

by Dearth, Paige

  “I’m not proper, but I was brought up well, and I’m expected to act that way.” Salvatore’s father had told him this a million times over the years.

  “Oh yeah? I guess we ain’t been brought up well then,” Tony said, giving Vincent a sternum poke.

  Salvatore brushed his hair back in place. “How come you call yourself Vincent instead of Vinny? Isn’t Vinny more South Philly?”

  “It ain’t ’cause I was brought up well and shit. It’s ’cause my ma is a Bible beater who thought if everyone called me Vincent, after Saint Vincent de Paul, I’d grow up to serve the poor just like the saint did. But one day when I was little, I told my ma, ‘We are the poor, so why do I have to be servin’ poor people?’ My ma, she’s a good lady, but she beat me half senseless with a really big wooden spoon she uses to stir her tomato sauce wit’. She screamed, ‘Vincent, you goddamn sonofabitch, if I ever hear ya talk about what ya ain’t got, I’ll beat the livin’ hell outta ya. There are people worse off than you are, and ya better do what’s right, by God.’ She scared the holy shit outta me, and ever since I make sure people call me Vincent, and, if I got any change to spare, I give it to one of the bums that live on the street. But I ain’t usually got any leftover money.”

  Salvatore laughed at Vincent’s story. “OK. Then I’ll call you Vincent.” He turned to Tony. “And is Tony your real name?”

  “Nah, my real name is Antney, but my ma calls me Tony.”

  “You mean Anthony?”

  “Yeah, Antney, like I just told ya.”

  “Why doesn’t your mom call you Anth…Antney?”

  Tony pushed his thick black hair from his forehead. “Well, I was named after my mother’s sister’s husband. Anyway, my uncle Antney hooked up wit’ another girl when my aunt was pregnant wit’ my cousin. When my aunt found out, she left his ass in the dust when she was six months pregnant. After she left ’im, my grandparents didn’t talk to my aunt no more ’cause she was supposed to stay married no matter what. Anyway, my mother got really mad. I mean, everyone loved my uncle Antney, but she said, ‘No son of mine is gonna have the same name as that no-good, lying, cheatin’ ass-wipe.’ So she told me, ‘From now on your name is Tony.’ I told her, ‘OK, Ma, but I like Antney better.’ Her face crunched up, and her top lip lifted so I could see her teeth and shit. She looked like some kinda demon from another planet, and I thought she was gonna kill me or somethin’. So I said, ‘Yeah, Ma, I think I like Tony better.’”

  The boys stared at each other for a moment.

  “So ya wanna meet up after school?” Vincent asked.

  “For what?” Salvatore asked.

  “What do ya mean, for what? To hang out wit’ us,” Tony explained. “We usually go down to the Italian Market after school. Some of the vendors let us help close their stands. They let us take home the food they’re gonna throw out.”

  “Oh, well, that sounds interesting,” Salvatore stated. “I mean, I don’t think my mother would appreciate me bringing home food that was going to be thrown away, though.”

  “Oh yeah? You rich or somethin’?” Tony asked.

  “I guess so. I mean, my dad has plenty of money to buy us everything we need.”

  “Yeah? That’s cool. We ain’t never knew nobody who had plenty of money. What’s that like?” Tony asked, as Vincent stood next to him nodding.

  “I don’t know what it’s like. I guess it’s like nice. I never thought about it.”

  Tony cocked his head to one side. “What’s your dad do?”

  “He’s a businessman.”

  “What kinda business does he have?” Tony asked.

  “The kind of business where he makes a lot of money. I don’t know.”

  Salvatore was guarded. He was perplexed by Tony and Vincent’s obsession with money.

  “Maybe your dad can teach us how to be businessmen,” Vincent said, hopeful.

  “I guess he could. I don’t know. My dad hasn’t ever met anyone I know. I never really had any friends in my old school. Never had any when I lived here before either,” Salvatore explained.

  “We thought we knew ya,” Tony said. “So you lived here before. Did we know ya?”

  “No, I didn’t really talk to the other kids. We moved away from here when I was six.”

  “No wonder we don’t really remember ya. We thought we seen ya before, though. Where did ya move from?” Tony asked.

  “We just moved here from New York.”

  “New York, huh? What’s it like there?” Tony asked.

  “It’s like New York. There are lots of people and things to do. They have really good restaurants, and my mom took me to see Broadway shows. I miss it already.”

  “So ya gonna meet us later?” Vincent asked.

  “I doubt my dad would let me. I have to go right home after school.”

  “All right, well, it was good meetin’ ya again. Try to stay away from that asshole over there,” Tony said, pointing to Rex.

  Salvatore nodded. “Sure. Thanks.”

  Hearing the bell ring, Tony and Vincent walked out of the cafeteria.

  “I like Salvatore,” Tony said. “He didn’t even seem bothered that Rex beat his ass. I remember when you were an asshole and picked on me all the time. I was scared shitless.”

  “Yeah, I told ya I’m sorry a hundred times for that. Ya know, I like him too. There’s somethin’ about ’im. He’s weird, but he’s got balls.”

  As Tony tried to take his math quiz, his thoughts went to Salvatore. Tony had always wanted to be fearless, but he never seemed able to escape the darkness of his home. But the new kid, Salvatore—he wasn’t afraid of anything.

  Chapter Fourteen

  One month after school had started, Salvatore’s father, Johnny, called him into his home office.

  “Why do you keep coming home with bruises on your face? I know someone is picking on you. Who is this boy that keeps kicking your ass?” Johnny said.

  “Some bully named Rex.”

  “Why don’t you fight back?” Johnny asked.

  “I tried that, Pop. This guy is way bigger than me.” Salvatore knew he sounded defeated, and he didn’t want to disappoint his father.

  “No one beats up on a Morano. Does this boy know who I am?” Johnny yelled.

  “Why would he know you? The kids in my class hardly know me. Besides, someday I’m going to be just like you, and then they’ll be sorry. Mom says I’m going to be really big and strong when I get older. Then I’ll show them all. I promise.”

  Johnny Morano thought about it for a moment. His boy was right. Someday Salvatore would be a man to be feared. Johnny still had no intention of sitting idly by and watching his kid get beat up day after day.

  “From now on Big Paulie will pick you up from school. Nobody messes with him…”

  “No, Pop. You can’t do that. I have to learn how to defend myself. Big Paulie can’t be with me all the time. I want to take karate lessons. That way I can defend myself.”

  Johnny reached for his cigar, cranked the wheel on his Zippo lighter, and sucked on the unlit tip until a thick cloud of smoke spilled out of his mouth, “OK. We’ll get you karate lessons then. But I’m telling you right now that this is going to stop. No kid of mine is going to be picked on by some rundown piece of street trash.”

  Salvatore felt a sense of victory. It wasn’t that he was afraid of Rex. In fact, he hated the guy and vowed to himself to get even with him someday. “I’m going to tell Mom that you said I can take karate lessons.” As he turned to leave his father’s office, he glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Pop; I’m going to take care of this.”

  Johnny Morano nodded. When he was alone in his office, he thought back to his own youth. He’d been raised by strict Catholic parents. Johnny had loved his mother and father, but they’d stifled his ability to have any fun. Eventually, he grew resentful and rebelled against their strict ways. In junior high school, he joined a street gang, and as they took over the streets of his New York neighbor
hood, it was Johnny who emerged as the ringleader. He always devised ways of getting even with the other gangs. When he was seventeen, Johnny beat another teen in the head with a rock. The teen died, and Johnny threatened that if anyone snitched on him, he would kill them too. This single act put Johnny in line to become a made man in the Bonanni family.

  After Salvatore was born, Johnny moved his young family to Philadelphia for a year where he was sent to work out a deal with the Philadelphia crime family. When he moved back to New York, it wasn’t long before Johnny rose through the ranks of the Bonanni family, eventually landing himself as a consigliere and later, the underboss. As the second in charge to the Bonanni boss, Johnny was as ruthless and powerful as they came. Then, after Conti, the boss of the Philadelphia family was gunned down, and he was asked to step in as the new boss of the Philadelphia family. His life of violence and coldblooded retaliation had paid off. His thoughts shifted back to his son. Salvatore was much different than he was as a teenager. But he knew his son was fearless, and that gave Johnny great promise for the future.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Over the next couple of days, Johnny Morano had Big Paulie drive him to Salvatore’s school, and they’d sit at a distance in the car watching. On the first day, they saw Salvatore getting picked on by Rex and some of his friends. None of the other kids stepped in to help. On the second day, when Johnny couldn’t watch his son be beaten up anymore, he grabbed for the door handle of the car, but Big Paulie put his hand on Johnny’s shoulder.

  “Look.”

  Johnny watched Tony and Vincent sprint toward the rowdy teens. They pushed their way through the crowd until they were standing on either side of Rex. Vincent grabbed both of his arms from behind while Tony hammered him in the abdomen with heavy punches. When Rex could no longer stand on his own, Vincent let him drop to the ground and kicked him.

  “What did we tell ya ’bout pickin’ on people littler than ya? What are ya, hard of hearin’?” Vincent yelled.

  Vincent turned to Rex’s three friends, who stood on the side with rage in their eyes.

  “Ya thinkin’ ’bout fuckin’ wit’ us? Is that what’s goin’ on in those pea brains of yours? Ya better think long and hard before ya do, ’cause once ya cross us, your ass is ours,” Vincent threatened.

  Tony and Vincent walked to Salvatore a few feet away. “Ya all right?” Tony asked.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Someday, I’ll get even with that bitch; don’t worry,” Salvatore said, seething.

  “Oh, look, Vincent, he talks shit like we do. Who woulda thought?”

  Tony patted Salvatore on the shoulder. “Look man, ya seem like an all-right dude. Ya just need to keep away from that asshole. Ya know what I’m sayin’?”

  “Yes, I do know what you’re saying. But I won’t back down from him. He can beat on me all he wants because I’m not afraid,” Salvatore declared.

  Tony and Vincent exchanged amused looks. Salvatore was so small they felt like giants standing next to him. In a few seconds, they busted out laughing. “We ain’t laughin’ at ya Salvatore; we’re laughin’ wit’ ya.”

  Initially Salvatore was enraged at the duo’s fit of laughter. But after he watched them for a moment, he realized they meant no harm. They had stepped in twice already and stopped Rex. Finally, Salvatore broke down and laughed with them.

  “You guys want to go get a cheesesteak? My treat,” Salvatore offered.

  “Sure we do,” Vincent answered.

  As the three teens walked toward South Street, Johnny sat in the car watching.

  “My boy may have found himself a couple of new friends, Big Paulie,” Johnny said.

  “Yeah, it looks like he did. You wanna follow them to be sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Johnny Morano, the godfather of the Italian mob, watched his son for the rest of the afternoon. The three boys got along well. He and Big Paulie watched Salvatore laughing wholeheartedly; it had been a long time since Johnny had seen his son so happy. It made him feel good. Then he realized he’d found an answer to his problem—two answers, to be exact.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Hey, boys. Come over here,” Johnny yelled from the car window the next afternoon.

  “What the fuck does this guy want?” Vincent whispered to Tony.

  Tony and Vincent slowly crossed the street to Johnny’s car.

  “What are your names?” Johnny asked.

  “Who wants to know?” Vincent responded.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to know your names,” Johnny repeated.

  “We didn’t do nothin’,” Tony said, feeling nervous.

  Johnny smiled bitterly. “What are your names?”

  Tony had the familiar twist in his gut. He wanted to turn and run, but instead stood by Vincent’s side. “I’m Tony, and this is Vincent.”

  “My name is Johnny Morano. I’m Salvatore’s father, and this is Big Paulie.”

  Tony bent down lower so he could eye up Big Paulie, who lived up to the term big.

  “Oh, yeah, you’re the businessman. Salvatore told us ’bout ya. What do ya want from us?”

  “I have a proposition for you.”

  “A prop-a-what?” Tony asked.

  “I have a business deal for you. I’m going to pay you to watch out for Salvatore. I’ll give you ten dollars each a week. For that, you will make sure that no one fucks with my son.”

  “I don’t know, Mr. Morano—ten bucks a week doesn’t seem like much to be somebody’s bodyguard,” Vincent said, remembering that Salvatore’s father was rich. Vincent’s boldness made Tony nervous. He didn’t want to lose a chance of earning ten dollars a week.

  Johnny rubbed his chin and glanced at his friend. “What do you think, Big Paulie? How much do you think a bodyguard is worth?”

  “I think ten bucks a week is damn good. Hell, I would’ve killed somebody for ten bucks when I was their age.”

  “Well, that was a long time ago, Big Paulie. Maybe these boys are right. How about if I pay you each twenty dollars a week?” Johnny offered.

  Tony’s stomach gurgled. He felt apprehensive and on guard, but twenty dollars a week was a lot of money.

  Vincent quickly extended his hand to Johnny through the car window. “It’s a deal.”

  “Good. Very good. Just be certain that you boys don’t disappoint me. I don’t like to be disappointed…ever,” Johnny said, making eye contact with one and then the other.

  Johnny liked how Tony squirmed at his threatening tone and the seriousness in his voice.

  “We won’t,” Tony said flatly.

  After Johnny and Big Paulie pulled away from the curb, the boys turned to face each other.

  “Twenty bucks a week,” Tony said.

  “We’re fuckin’ rich,” Vincent yelped, grabbing Tony by the shoulders.

  “Yeah, well, just remember what Mr. Morano said…we can’t fuck this up. I think the guy was real serious ’bout that, Vincent.”

  “I know. But we’re gonna be great at this bodyguard shit. Maybe when we grow up, we can be bodyguards to famous people. We’ll be the best bodyguards that ever lived,” Vincent exclaimed.

  “Yeah, maybe. I ain’t so sure this is a good thing. Mr. Morano seems like a real mean man. Maybe we should tell ’im that we ain’t gonna do it,” Tony said, feeling anxious that they would be unable to fulfill their promise.

  “Ya worry too much. All we gotta do is make sure that asshole Rex doesn’t beat up Salvatore. Why do ya always get so nervous all the time?”

  “’Cause if I get caught doin’ anythin’ wrong, my father will kill me. Besides, I wanna do good stuff for people.”

  “This is good stuff,” Vincent countered. “We’re protectin’ somebody who needs our help.”

  The boys walked down the block in silence. Tony could feel to the depth of his soul that something was wrong and he should walk away from the deal, but he didn’t want to disappoint Vincent, and he pushed his feelings of dread aside.

&nbs
p; Chapter Seventeen

  Tony and Vincent followed Salvatore everywhere. And, after a few days, Salvatore thought they were up to something.

  “Why are you two always following me around? What gives?”

  “We ain’t followin’ ya. We just like hangin’ out. We was thinkin’ that we could hang out after school today. Ya know, take a walk down to the Italian Market and all. Whata ya say?” Tony asked.

  Salvatore looked at the ground and blushed. “Yeah, sure, I guess so. I’ll need to stop home first and let my mom know where I’m going.” His father had been encouraging him to find some friends, and Salvatore wanted to please him.

  “Sure, that ain’t no big deal. We’ll come wit’ cha,” Vincent offered.

  “No, that wouldn’t be a good idea. I, I, um, I can’t really bring friends home with me. My parents won’t let me bring anyone they don’t know into our house, especially my dad.”

  “No? Why not?” Tony asked, his earlier feelings of fear gripping him.

  “Well, because my dad is very protective about his privacy.”

  “Protective? Why?” Tony asked.

  “He just likes to be sure that he knows the people who come into our house. That’s all.”

  “All right, so we’ll wait outside then,” Vincent said.

  “Yeah, OK, I guess that’ll be fine.”

  Salvatore went to his last class of the day. But instead of listening to the teacher lecture, he thought about his father. Shortly after his tenth birthday, his father had sat him down in the living room of their New York brownstone.

  “Salvatore, you might start hearing things about me, and I want to explain what I do in the best way that I can. You see, a long time ago, there were a group of men who lived in Italy. It was on Easter day when a French solider grabbed a young, married Palermo woman from the crowd of people gathered to celebrate the holiday. The solider began to bother the woman…touch her where he shouldn’t have. When the woman’s mother found out what happened to her daughter, she ran through the streets of her small town screaming, ‘Mia figlia, mia figlia!’ That means “my daughter, my daughter.” The Sicilian men gathered together to protect the women in their small town. First, they killed the French soldier who touched the young woman. Then the men killed all the French soldiers they could find until the French finally left them alone. This story traveled through the other small towns of Italy, and other Sicilians came together and killed French soldiers. In Italy, mia figlia signaled to the Sicilians it was time to go to battle.”