The Jersey Man #2
**Part Two **
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"If something is yours, you fucking take it"
Tony Santoro thought about his youngest granddaughter, Mary. When Little Mary had stopped being Little, the family had faced some problems she had invited.
Mary got in bed with a man who was more pig than human. Their love had been recorded on tape and that bastard had the balls to threaten Santoro blood.
Tony had taken his son, Paulie, to meet this pig. They retrieved the tape but a message needed to be sent, and Tony made sure it was clear.
This is what brought back that memory when Jimmy had given Tony his first ever real assignment. A job which pushed Tony Santoro towards his destiny. When he started believing that if something was yours, you just take it. New Jersey, USA, 1972 Nicky pocketed his Uzi and pulled his jacket over it. 'Tony, come let's show this motherfucker who he's fucking with'
I wasn't nervous and that made me nervous. We walked in quietly. The restaurant was famous in Trenton for it's lobster and Nicky ridiculed how the chef was such a snake.
'Mr. Saliery, you need to make that payment. Jimmy has been patient but he expresses heavily the need to' he cut me off saying, 'why does Jimmy have to be such a pain in my ass. I said I will pay'
I saw Nicky was getting impatient.
'But you aren't paying, you old fuck. Stop screwing us like dogs' Nicky did not handle his rage well.
'You dare come here and insult me you fucking cunt' he slammed his hand on the table.
Nicky lost it.
He grabbed the man's head and shoved it into the induction pot, which had water boiling for the lobsters. I heard muffled screams as the hot water almost melted his skin.
I raised my gun towards the young man who had run in. It was Saliery's son.
After Nicky had taken his grip away from the old man, Saliery's son embraced him and cried. Within a few minutes, an ambulance took Saliery to the hospital while his son arranged the money for Nicky and me to take back.
'You have to make sure the message is clear, Tony. Always'
It was the most alive I had felt. The brutality of it mesmerized me. I wanted to be capable of doing that and feeling how Nicky felt. The ease with which he had destroyed that man's life, that too an important man, inspired me.
'You have good instinct bro.' he told me in the car.
That was the start of a partnership which would take me places. I was moving up the ladder and I couldn't be more excited.
I knew it was true when he said, if something's yours, you take it. New Jersey, USA, 1979 28 years old, Tony Santoro became a well known name. Nicky and I were local gun runners. It was not just the Sabella family who liked to call us famiglia. We were cousins to a lot of people. People with power. People with money.
We took over Costanza's business and whenever someone needed a piece, they knew to call us.
But I knew where my loyalty lied. Nicky knew where his loyalty lied too. We had been pinched once in '76 with a buttload of guns. The Chevy Van said Jimmy Loaf Company on its mast and the cops were ready to make a deal. Jimmy Sabella for our freedom.
'Thats our guns' the policeman was a nigger and Nicky hated niggers. His Sicilian blood was too proud for that color.
In the case file it read that two men of Italian descent had stolen a delivery van belonging to Jimmy Sabellas bakery chain. They had then used the van to transport munitions.
Jimmy got us the best lawyers and we did a year inside. Thats it. One year.
We came out new men and everybody knew us. We had the money and the contacts to get what we wanted, where we wanted and when we wanted. Gambling at the best spots, dining in the best restaurants, fucking the hottest broads. My big dreams were now part fulfilled.
Jimmy invested in a taxi service and handed it over to Nicky and me in '77.
And that too was a reinforced predicament, that Jimmy was the man we owed everything to. He was our Godfather.
I could never snitch on the Sabellas and neither could Nicky.
It was an August afternoon in '79 when I got the call. I was more confident than the 19 year old who had rammed over two gangsters on Monmouth Street at seven pm on a busy evening.
The consignment was held up at a warehouse because a Cuban motherfucker, known as The Tiger, was unwilling of our terms. It was bullshit because Nicky had fucked his wife. That is something which would've been frowned upon if The Tiger was family. But The Tiger was an outsider. Irrespective of all the family gatherings he was called to, he would be the first one to be shot if trouble arose.
I did not want Nicky to get involved then. It would have been an unnecessary hassle. Little did I know I was going to make a hassle.
I drove down to his estate. He had a bungalow in one of those luxury Ashford Estates. It was sweet. I could see myself living there.
He invited me in and poured me a drink.
'Tiger, this is not about you or me. These guns need to reach New York. There is no alternative. You can't make this personal'
I was composed.
'Fuck you and your fucking brother. The guns will not leave my warehouse. And you're not getting the money back either. You think I give a fuck about you or those old fucks back home?' he was arrogant.
He kept being unreasonable and I kept trying to make him understand. A point came where I knew he was not going to budge. I saw myself again with an ultimatum of making a choice. This man had disrespected Jimmy, he had been unreasonable and now he was not being a good host. I had had it.
I walked out to my car, made a phone call and lit a Marlboro. Three of my guys came soon. The youngest one was 19 and seeing him made me nostalgic.
'Ill tell you, son. If something is yours, you fucking take it' I told him and the three men, rather boys, went in.
Ten minutes later, they walked out, dragging The Tiger out with them. He was disheveled. He was bloody. But he was not dead.
I knelt down and saw him eye to eye. That moment made me realise how much I had changed from the early years. I was bolder. I was stronger.
I took it a little further and canned my cigarette on his forehead. 'You Cuban piece of shit, motherfucker. I come here, I offer you kindness and you spit on it? Do you know who I am, you fucking cunt?' he was constantly screaming at the top of his lungs. The teenager was holding him down for me. The gunshots in the background told me that there were guests in the house who would no longer see the light of day.
I was not worried about anything and it hit me suddenly that, all those years ago when I had made my way to Jersey and to this new world, to this new family, what I had hoped to achieve, I had just achieved.
I was a gangster.
I stood up, took out my pistol and shot him twice in the head.
I did not enjoy it because I am not a psychopath but I did not regret it because I am a professional.
'Burn the house down' poor Tiger had chosen a house so convenient to be killed that nobody would notice.
The next hour, the shipment was on its way from the warehouse.
My actions reached Jimmy's ears and he summoned me for supper. I took Julia with me, I had been going out with her for a week then but I was far from settling down, I thought.
Before coffee, Jimmy pulled me to the side and offered me one of his Cuban cigars. He loved those. And he loved men who loved those.
As we smoked, he told me, 'Tony, you've become something I am proud of. You're very essential to this famiglia and everyone loves you. I want you to call your Ma and Pa and your sisters out to the house next week. We want to welcome you to the Sabella family.'
Fucking yes. I was screaming inside. This was it. I was going to be invincible.