Johnny paused, gauging whether his young son understood what he was telling him. To Johnny’s delight, Salvatore wanted to know more. “Then what happened?”
“Well, then these men became a part of a secret society. The men who belonged to this society, well, they made a promise to protect each other and their families. Now, they all understood that to do this would mean they’d have to steal and maybe even hurt people. So, you see, I’m a part of that secret society of men that started a long time ago. There are times when I have to do things that the police don’t like and even say is wrong. What’s important is that you stick by me and never tell anyone what goes on in this house or things you might hear me talk about. The secret society calls this the code of silence. Now, if anyone asks you questions about me, all you have to do is tell them that you’ve never seen or heard anything, because as my son you will also be part of the secret society when you get older. This is how we protect our family. Do you understand?”
“What happens if someone breaks the code of silence?”
“They are punished. Severely punished, and sometimes so are their families,” Johnny said.
Johnny studied his son’s face. “What is it? What’s bothering you?”
“If these guys protect each other and their families, then why would you punish them?”
“Because each man knows that protection is only provided if he remains loyal to the family. If he doesn’t, they must pay for their defiance.”
Salvatore stared at his father, and another thought slammed into his brain. “I’m scared, Pop. Do you think the police are going to come here and ask me questions? What if they arrest me for lying or something?”
Johnny smiled. “You don’t have to worry about the police. Nothing is going to happen. I’m telling you this just in case one day, when you are much older, you are asked to tell the police things about me or the society we belong to.”
Salvatore nodded apprehensively, still unnerved by the possibility of having to lie to a policeman. He pushed his anxiety aside and looked up at his father. “What’s the name of our society, Pop?”
“The Mafia.”
Salvatore tilted his head, and his nostrils flared. “Why is it called that?”
“Remember I told you about the mother who ran through the streets of Italy screaming mia figlia? Well, many years later, Italians in America pronounced it Ma Fia, and so our society became known as the Mafia. But remember, the name of our society doesn’t mean as much as what we stand for.”
Salvatore nodded, leaned over, and hugged Johnny. He was too young to fully understand what it meant for his father to be a high-ranking member of the mob. He believed his father was a great man. Salvatore felt very special that Johnny had confided in him. Johnny and Salvatore had shaken hands to confirm the vow of silence between them. This had made Salvatore feel grown up and a deeper part of his father’s life.
When the last bell rang indicating the end of the school day, Salvatore’s thoughts were interrupted, and he rushed outside to look for Tony and Vincent. He saw them sitting on the sidewalk and hurried over to them. “Are you guys ready to go?”
The two boys looked up from the bug on the pavement they had been tormenting for the past couple of minutes. “Yeah, we’re ready,” Tony said, getting to his feet.
“What will we do at the Italian Market?” Salvatore asked.
“We’ll walk around and talk to the vendors. Ya know, just hang out and see what’s happenin’. We just sorta go wit’ the flow when we’re there,” Vincent explained.
It was almost four o’clock by the time the boys made it to the Italian Market on Ninth Street. There were three city blocks of row homes that had been converted into storefronts with tables of food and goods on the sidewalk. The colorful awnings, narrow passage, and vendors yelling out their solicitation for business on the sidewalk made it feel like a third-world country. Shop owners set up their produce, cheeses, and fresh-caught fish in wooden boxes. The smells melded with an overarching scent of fresh-baked bread and cakes. The Italian Market symbolized the culture of the city, a combination of food and in-your-face manners.
When the boys approached the first street vendor, the man looked the boys over, and his gaze settled on Salvatore.
“How ya doin’?” he asked.
“We’re doin’ real good, Pete. This is our new friend, Salvatore,” Tony answered.
“Nice to meet you, Pete,” Salvatore stated politely.
“Hey, ain’t ya Johnny’s boy?”
“Yes…”
“Well, here then. Go on and pick out one of those peaches. These here are the best batch I got all year.”
“Can we have one too?” Vincent asked.
“Sure, ya can. Let Salvatore over here pick one first, though.”
The three boys looked at each other and smiled.
“Go on, Salvatore. Pick one quick ’cause we ain’t got all day. We got a lot of ground to cover,” Tony said.
The vendor plucked the peach that Salvatore picked out of his hand. “Let me just go wash that for ya. I’ll be right back.”
A few minutes later, Pete returned and handed the peach back to Salvatore.
“What’s wrong wit’ ya, Pete?” Vincent asked. “Why ya actin’ all crazy and shit? How come ya ain’t washin’ our peaches too?”
Pete smiled at Salvatore. “Tell your father I said hello, will ya, Salvatore?”
“Yeah, sure, I’ll tell him. Thanks for the peach, Mister…”
“Pete, you can call me Pete.”
“Right. Thanks for the peach, Pete.”
“Sure, Salvatore. Anytime ya wanna good piece a fruit, ya come and see me. Ya hear?”
“Ah, come on already. What the hell is this? You’re actin’ really weird, Pete. Let’s go, Salvatore, before he tries to make ya a fruit salad,” Vincent taunted.
As the boys walked away, Tony talked at top speed about how Pete had treated Salvatore. But for Salvatore this treatment wasn’t any different from the treatment he got from the men in New York who knew Johnny was his father. They were, after all, either a part of or beholden to the Mafia.
“Hey Salvatore, what’s your father do again?”
“He’s a businessman.”
As they continued to walk the rest of the block, a few men Tony had seen in the market with his mother approached them. Tony froze when he realized these were the mobsters his mother had warned him about.
“How ya doin’, Salvatore?” one man said.
Tony stared wide-eyed with his mouth hanging open.
“I’m good, Angelo. Is my dad here?”
“Nah, ya know he don’t like to come here too often.” Before Angelo turned to leave, he said, “I’ll be over your house later. See ya then.”
It was then that Tony knew exactly who Johnny Morano was and that Salvatore’s father was a mobster. He became even more nervous about the business deal he’d entered into with Johnny and wondered if he had the courage to go through with his promise to protect Salvatore.
Chapter Eighteen
The next night the boys were walking to South Street looking for something to do. They had cut through an alleyway, and out of nowhere, five boys jumped out from behind a Dumpster. It took a moment to recognize them as boys from their school. Rex ran at Salvatore and punched him on the side of his face.
Tony and Vincent were attacked before they could react. Two of Rex’s friends jumped on Tony and forced him to the ground and kicked him. Tony fought back, and Rex piled into the fight. Vincent was losing his own battle against the other two boys, who were on top of him smashing his head face first into the broken asphalt.
A short distance from where Tony and Vincent were being assaulted, Salvatore sat up slowly, reached under his pant leg, and rushed toward Rex. Before any of them knew what was happening, Salvatore had an eight-inch, serrated knife pressed against Rex’s throat.
“You think I’m afraid of you? I’m not. I’ve been waiting for you to come after me at just
the right time,” Salvatore said, his voice steady and commanding attention.
Rex held his arms out and his hands in the air. “OK, you win. You gotta knife, so ya win. Let’s go, guys. Leave these assholes alone.”
Salvatore slowly removed the knife from Rex’s throat, but held it in a combat position just the way Big Paulie had shown him. “I want you to remember something, Rex. The next time you think about fucking with me or my friends…well, let’s just say I suggest you think twice. You may not know it, but I come from a family that doesn’t like to be bullied.”
Rex held Salvatore’s cold, hard eyes for a moment, and the blood in his veins ran cold. His entire body turned icy. Rex noted Salvatore’s rigid body and unblinking eyes. Salvatore was dead serious.
After Rex and his friends left the alley, Salvatore rushed over to Tony, who was groggy. Small moaning sounds escaped from his throat. Vincent hobbled over to Tony and Salvatore.
“Tony? Tony? What the fuck? Tony, you OK?” Vincent said in a scared voice.
Tony slowly sat up and looked from Salvatore to Vincent. He was confused. His eyes were swollen, and he couldn’t see clearly, but he knew he’d just witnessed Rex’s reaction to Salvatore…or was it a dream?
“Tony. It’s Salvatore and Vincent. Are you all right?”
Tony slowly nodded. “What the fuck just happened?”
“Christ! This little fucker pulled a blade on Rex. Threatened to cut him open,” Vincent said.
“I thought I saw something like that. I remember seein’ Rex. Looked like he was gonna shit his pants,” Tony said wearily, looking up at Salvatore.
“Where did ya get the knife?” Tony asked slowly, his speech still impaired.
“A friend gave it to me. Showed me how to use it too just in case I ever needed to defend myself,” Salvatore explained.
“Oh yeah? What friend?” Vincent asked.
“Just a friend.”
When Tony’s head cleared, Vincent and Salvatore helped him off of the ground and walked him back to his house. They had just stepped inside the house when Teresa bolted up from the sofa.
“Oh, dear God, what the hell happened to him?” Teresa screamed when she saw his bruised and bloodied face.
“It ain’t nothin’, Mrs. B. Some kids we go to school wit’ beat us up when we weren’t lookin’,” Vincent said.
“It ain’t nothing? Vincent, I’ll slap the livin’ shit outta ya. Don’t ya give me none of that it ain’t nothin’ bullshit. Look at my boy. He’s bleeding.” Teresa rushed from the room to get towels and peroxide to clean him up.
As Teresa reentered the living room, she eyed up Salvatore. “And who the hell are you?”
“My name is Salvatore. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Bruno.”
“Just call her Mrs. B,” Tony said, as he tried to dodge the towel his mother was shoving at him to clean up his face.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. B.”
“Where the hell did ya find this one?” Teresa asked.
“He used to live here, but then he moved to New York, and now he moved back here,” Vincent said.
Teresa nodded as she fussed over Tony, cleaning his wounds.
“Ow, Ma, that hurts,” Tony said, pulling away from his mother.
“Tony Bruno, ya better sit still, or I’ll give ya somethin’ to complain about. Ya want these cuts gettin’ infected? Now stop whining so I can fix ya up. Ya boys are always findin’ trouble. What’s wrong wit’ the two of yas?” Teresa looked at Vincent.
“But, Mrs. B, we were surprise attacked and…”
Teresa raised her hand in the air, and Vincent fell silent.
“Yes, Mrs. B,” Vincent said with respect.
Teresa lifted her head and looked at Salvatore. “What’s your last name?”
“Morano.”
Teresa stopped dead in her tracks and was plagued with worry. As she realized that Salvatore’s father was the head of the mob, her limbs went limp.
“You boys better get home. It’s getting late,” Teresa said.
When Vincent and Salvatore left, Teresa sat on the sofa next to Tony.
“Ya know who that boy is?”
“Yeah, Ma. I know. He’s a kid I go to school wit’.”
“He’s not just a kid from your school. That is Johnny Morano’s son. Do you know who his father is?”
Tony nodded. “He’s a mobster. Right?”
“That’s right. He’s a mobster, and they are dangerous people. They kill people for no good reason. Do ya understand?”
“How do ya know they kill people?”
“’Cause I know! I don’t want ya hangin’ out wit’ that boy. I don’t want Johnny Morano anywhere near ya. Do you hear me?”
Tony shrugged. “But he’s my friend, Ma.”
“Any son of Johnny Morano’s is no friend to my son. Ya won’t get nothin’ but trouble hangin’ out wit’ him.”
“Salvatore ain’t like that, though. He’s a good friend.”
“Ya listen real good. Ya stay away from that boy. If I find out you’re hangin’ wit’ ’im, I swear to the Baby Jesus I’ll break your fuckin’ head. It’s for your own good.”
When Tony lay in his bed that night, he got jittery about being friends with Salvatore. He liked him a lot, but after the knife incident, Tony realized that maybe his mother was right about Salvatore and the mob. Maybe they were to be feared and he should stay as far away from Salvatore as possible. Then he saw himself as weak, remembering how the other kids had avoided being around him because they feared getting picked on. No, Tony thought, I’m not gonna be one of those people. Salvatore is my friend and will stay my friend, no matter what my mother thinks.
***
Back at the Morano house, Johnny and Big Paulie sat on the leather sofa in his office.
“How did it go?” Johnny asked.
“Salvatore did real good, Johnny. He did everything just like I taught him to do.”
“And you were ready?”
“Yeah, me and Crazy Bobby were standin’ by. We didn’t need to do nothin’, though. They never even knew we was there. Ya woulda been really proud of Salvatore.”
“What about his friends?”
“Those two boys couldn’t believe what Salvatore had done. I think the three of them will be friends for a long time,” Big Paulie said.
“Good, very good. My son is finally becoming a man. He needs to retaliate against that punk, Rex. Do you think he’s ready?”
“Yeah, Johnny, he’s ready. Salvatore ain’t afraid of no one. He’s just like his old man.”
Johnny Morano smiled broadly. At Salvatore’s age he’d already been part of a street gang—that’s where he’d learned to act out and take revenge against anyone who threatened to harm him. Now it was Salvatore’s turn to show everyone what he was made of.
Chapter Nineteen
It was one week after Johnny had first hired Tony and Vincent to protect Salvatore.
“Boys,” Johnny yelled from the car window.
Tony and Vincent walked over to the car, and Johnny held out one twenty-dollar bill for each of them.
“Nah, we don’t want no money, Mr. Morano,” Tony said. “Salvatore is a…he’s a good friend.”
Johnny paused and smiled at the boys. “Oh yeah, tell me about being good friends. Does it have anything to do with your busted-up face?”
Tony shoved his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans and shifted back and forth from one foot to the other. He debated about how much he should share with Mr. Morano.
“He, uh, helped us when these guys jumped us, so we don’t want no money from ya. Salvatore is a good guy. The three of us watch out for each other now. Thanks anyway,” Tony said, wanting to get away from Johnny quickly.
Johnny shifted his gaze to Vincent. “Are you sure I can’t pay you?”
“Nope, just like Tony said. Salvatore is one of us now—he helped us out all right. We can’t take no money to be friends with somebody we like.”
“OK. Well, I’ll tell you what. I’d like the two of you to come over to my house for dinner tomorrow night. I will tell Salvatore that I want to meet the two boys that he’s been hanging out with. He will ask you to come for dinner. Now, don’t utter a word to him about anything we’ve talked about. I don’t want him to know that we have already met. Do you both understand me?”
Vincent nodded, but Tony didn’t respond.
“What? Are you turning down my invitation?” Johnny asked, glaring at Tony. His voice was solid, pushy, and the boy cringed.
“No. Course not. I gotta, you know, ask my ma first.”
“Well, you tell your mother that you’ve already accepted the invitation and it would be rude not to show up. Do we understand each other?”
Tony nodded.
“I’ll see you tomorrow night, then.” Johnny gave a flick of his wrist, and Big Paulie drove away.
“What the hell’s wrong wit’ ya?” Vincent said. “We both know Johnny Morano runs the mob. Are ya lookin’ to get us killed or somethin’?”
“I don’t know about all this, Vincent. I don’t think we oughta be hangin’ at Salvatore’s house. Once my ma found out he was Johnny’s kid, she said I ain’t even allowed to be friends wit’ ’im no more.”
“So now ya gotta do everything your ma says? Just tell her you’re comin’ to my house for dinner. She ain’t never gonna know.”
Tony lowered his head, focusing on a crack in the sidewalk. He was scared to be around Johnny Morano, even though he liked Salvatore. He was also worried that if he didn’t go, Vincent and Salvatore would become close friends and he would have no one.
“All right, I’ll go, but I’m tellin’ ya, Vincent, somethin’ don’t feel right.”
Mean Little People Page 7
