Page 16 of Genesis

On top of doing the moonshine, we did little things like ran errands. Moretti didn’t like doing business over the phone, so Johnny and I would run all over the neighborhood delivering his messages. We also got his dry cleaning and cleaned up the beer bottles and cigarette butts in the courtyard behind his shop.

In exchange, we got some cash in our pocket and more times than not, we got to have a beer or two. Plus, we got to learn the business. It was a win-win for us, and we knew eventually it would turn into something more.

We were becoming one of them. In a world where we didn’t belong, we’d found somewhere we did.

I don’t know what Moretti did, but he got it worked out where Johnny could at least stay in the neighborhood. Which was good enough, I guess. The guy Johnny was staying with only cared about the check he was getting every month for keeping him, so Johnny mostly stayed with us anyway. He only had to go home when child services came around.

Life was fucking good, man. Before we knew it, a year had flown by, and the more time that passed, the more things Moretti let us in on. Mickey James was his right-hand man. He’d take us on runs. We’d go around the neighborhood and collect payments for keeping the local businesses safe. He did the dirty work for Moretti, which meant taking another’s life if he crossed any of us.

The shit we saw, no other fourteen-year-old was seeing. You got folks who walk around really thinking this world is a good place, but it’s only good to certain people.

The ones on top.

Johnny and I were wearing all the latest clothes and the coolest shoes. Paul was curious at times, asked us how we were getting all the stuff we had. We lied, of course, telling him the guy Johnny was living with was letting us help him flip houses.

It gave us reason to be gone all day. He was too busy with school anyway to really dig into it, so he let it go most of the time. Ma didn’t pay any attention. She stayed in church and played bridge on the weekends.

Samuel stayed to himself a lot as we got older. He went to school like he was supposed to and had his own small group of friends he hung out with. He played baseball and met some boys from the north side.

Eventually, he convinced Ma to let him switch schools. He used his friend’s address so he could attend. We were once a tight-knit family, but things never stay the same.

“Stop the car,” I say to Johnny. He does without question and I lean out the window. “You boys should be in school,” I say to the kids standing on the corner.

“Come on. We know you never went to school,” one kid with a smoke behind his ear says.

“Don’t be like me,” I say. “Get your asses to school and toss that cigarette.” I lean back inside the car and look over at Johnny. “Fucking kids.”

Johnny doesn’t say anything as he hits the gas.

They’re not wrong, though. School was never my thing, and I hardly went. I wanted to make money, and I knew that didn’t include a boring ass nine-to-five. So, I dropped out when I turned sixteen. Ma wasn’t happy, but she didn’t stop me.

I’ve always been a street kid. I learned that life isn’t always easy, but if you’re in charge, it can be.

Johnny seemed to go with whatever I wanted, but this lifestyle wasn’t a choice for me. It’s in my blood to be different than the rest. My dad was, and I would be, too. Not all men were meant to wear a suit and tie and clock in every day, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to have to work hard.

One thing my dad always said was,“You’ve got to do your own growing, no matter how tall your father was.”Success is never guaranteed.

I knew from a young age if I stayed close to the right people, I would learn everything I wanted to know. I put myself around the best of them. Kingpins and gangsters. Now I’m talking real gangsters, not the kind with baggy pants and a sideways pointed gun. I’m talking about the men in tailored suits who will put you six feet under for smarting off to them at the dinner table.

I’m talking men who don’t have to get blood on their hands because they have people who do it for them.

I’m those people.

You don’t get to where I am by being clean. Johnny’s old man isn’t the only person we’ve put in the ground. We’ve taken care of two people who’ve wronged Moretti. One thing you’ve got to learn is, it’s just business. There’s nothing personal about this shit.

You do someone wrong, you pay for it, and most of the time it’s with your life. Growing up in the rough streets of Postings, New Jersey will teach you that.

I’m not proud of the things I’ve done. I’m not a good man, but in this lifestyle, you have to make shit decisions, and sometimes it’s kill or be killed. I’ve earned my place here more than once, and I’ve gained respect by giving it.

“Let’s get to Ma’s,” I say to Johnny. “I’m starving, and you know what they say.”

He looks over at me with a lifted brow.

“Hunger is good sauce.” I laugh, hitting Mr. Uptight on the chest. “It’s Thanksgiving, Johnny. Be a little fucking happy, would ya?”

He looks back at the road and I flip the sun visor down, wiping the blood off my cheek, but it’s still on my hands. We pull up to the curb, seeing Ma heading into the house with an arm full of groceries. Johnny parks the car and we both hop out.

“Ma, we got that,” I say. “Johnny, grab a few bags, would ya?” I hit my smoke one hard time before tossing it as I run up to the porch so I can get the door.

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