ROLL CALL ~ A Prison List (True Prison Story) (29 page)

The speakers who spoke from the Divine Light Catholic School spoke of how blessed our Mom’s loved ones were to have had an Angel in their hearts and lives. They went on to say that she was at Home with God looking down on all of the rest of us.

After the funeral I went back to Aunt Chetta’s house. All of the men in my grandfather Pete’s family were present. I found out that all of the women went with my Dad and brother to another house to eat before heading back to southern California. The men brought out the food and fed me until it felt like I was going to pop. I just couldn’t sample another plate of flavor. There was so much love and support that I felt more comfortable than I could remember feeling since childhood with my Mom. It was okay to be yourself around them so I explained the paths I’d rode since my Mom had left. I didn’t leave anything out. I looked around and saw all of the men nodding their heads to encourage me and show me they understood. One of the New Yorker’s said, “The kid had no other choice on his own at the age of 14. At that age you haven’t matured enough to make well thought decisions. You’re more or less just reacting to circumstances at that age.”

All of the sudden, all of their love and concern wasn’t enough for me. I realized I was going to be on my own again in the world and I knew what was coming. My mind was going to tell me, why couldn’t we have called her a couple days earlier. Or why didn’t I call her a long time ago when we stopped living with our Dad. I couldn’t live with the only answers I had, so, I laid the blame on my grandfather and the rest of the Italian family. I asked my grandfather, “Why did you let our Dad keep our Mom from us?”

My grandfather was suffering the loss as deeply as I was. Tears were pouring down his face when he said, “Your Mom told me to stay out of it. She was confused about what would be the best thing for you kids at the ages you were. She told me she tried to hang on for years and years for your sakes, but just couldn’t anymore. Your Dad wasn’t letting her grow. She was a beautiful flower that had to bloom further to find herself… She wanted it to be as smooth a transition as possible for you kids.”

We all meditated on how unsmooth I’d explained the transition had been. One of the New Yorker’s said, “Hey Benny! There are rules about getting into a family’s business. Unless there is rape… It takes a lot to get something sanctioned.”

I understood what my grandfather was trying to say. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Nobody could have predicted it. On a deep level, I knew I couldn’t even blame my Dad for any of it. It wasn’t his fault he was brought up the way he was, or my Mom’s for the way she was. That left me with only myself to blame and I found all kinds of reasons. I immediately thought of my brother in a hotel going through his emotions and I couldn’t even be there with him. I excused myself to the bathroom.

In the bathroom I looked in the mirror, and, through the tears that had started again, saw the pain in my eyes, the window to the soul. Mine look tortured. I hated how vulnerable I felt so I pulled out my speed. I chopped up a ridiculously large line and snorted it. I watched my eyes in the mirror harden and seal off the emotions that threatened me. I kept studying myself in the mirror and told myself I wasn’t weak. A weak person would consider suicide. I needed to find a cause worth dying for. I took one last look in the mirror and remembered my brother’s words. “You look possessed.”

I left the bathroom deciding focused was a better word. My relatives were trained observers and many of them noticed the difference in me. My grandfather pulled me back under his wing and into the fold and asked me what my plans were. I spracked out all of my business ideas to turn my illegal business into a legal one.

One of the New Yorker’s nodded his head and said, “Sometimes ya gotta do what ya gotta do huh? With those plans kid, just be ready to learn some hard lessons. The rackets aren’t what they used to be.”

He went on to explain that since the feds got organized and turned the five families against each other along the east coast, it hadn’t been the same since. He summed it up that it took the feds turning into criminals to break everything up and now everyone runs their mouths without any honor.

I nodded my head at how smart he was and listened some more.

“That’s okay, though, because we found a home in the stock market with a few interests in construction and sanitation… Hey Pete, maybe we should have the kid move to New York with us. We could put him to work in the district at a restaurant or something.”

I watched my grandfather shake his head no. He looked like he was considering what to say carefully.

He said, “No… I don’t like that idea. He’s still got a court case to deal with in California. Plus he loves his younger brother too much to move that far away. Now, if he took care of his court case and then decided to… I’d be okay with it then.”

I studied my grandfather’s face and then my relatives from New York. I couldn’t tell if they were in cahoots trying to dangle a carrot over me to get me to turn myself in. I thought, good try, but I’ve got to make some money first to have something to come back to other than poverty.

At the airport my grandfather pulled me aside in front of the American airline terminal. “You’re not going to turn yourself in are you Benny?” It wasn’t a question, he already knew.

I shook my head once and said, “No sir.”

My grandfather pulled out a silver necklace with a silver cross and put it around my neck. Then he gave me a ring made of Italian gold with a nice size diamond. I put it on my finger and realized it was an old ring.

“That’s to give you the same kind of love from above I seemed to have when I was struggling. Now listen to me carefully, boy, cause I’m telling you the Truth. Drug business is bad business. Nothing good can come from it. If you keep messing with that business you’ll only be digging a deeper hole for yourself. The family I was affiliated with wouldn’t allow any drugs to enter our rackets. After all of the dust cleared they’re the only ones who made it. Do yourself a favor and put all of that energy into a legal business. And remember, your Mom is up there watching you.”

CHAPTER 68

I got back to Paul’s house and it felt like I was so lost that I didn’t know which way was up or down. I remembered always telling myself when things were bad, that life couldn’t possibly get any worse than it is now. It seemed that it always did. I repeatedly asked God, “Why are you putting me through all of this? What did I do?”

Paul saw the tormented look in my eyes and I noticed the authentic worry and concern in his. I had to snort line after line of speed to get over the feelings. Who wants to feel this vulnerable? Plus, I have a reputation to keep up! The speed worked its way into the gaping hole in my chest but it wasn’t working. My emotions were stronger.

Paul pulled out a big wad of cash and gave me my portion. It was $500 more than I expected. For the first time in my life I looked at the cash for what it was, just paper. It didn’t do anything for me. I saw myself going outside and throwing it into the wind. Then I put it away and focused on Paul. He had just given me something I could build on, truth. I would have expected him to give me a little less than I had coming with some logical reasons to back up the shortage. He’d given me $500 more and I couldn’t understand how that was even possible. What a true friend! My heart found solace in Paul’s gesture. If I stay true, and Paul stays true, and Bob stays true…

Paul kept the Momentum going by showing me the homework he’d done on our empire building. He pulled out his notebook and we went over the numbers on what it was going to cost to open a mechanic shop. A lease for a shop the size we needed was going to cost $4,000 a month, he estimated electricity and other associated fees would be another $250 a month. Then he showed me insurance would cost us up to another $1000 a month, workers compensation would be another $1,000 a month. He added up the rest of the California “fuck you” fee’s and came up with a grand total of approximately $7,000 a month we’d need.

Exciting! I felt like I could fill that black hole in my chest with some hope! I manufactured a purpose for what my Mom had always told me. “Everything happens for a reason. God will never give you more than you can carry.” I thought about that and saw myself just barely able to stand. It felt like my legs were on the verge of buckling. Was God showing me the way? I remembered what my grandfather told me at the airport. “Start yourself a legal business.” This had to be it! I looked up toward the heavens and imagined my Mom looking down on me with God.

I jumped on this hopeful direction and told Paul, “I can make that much money a month in overhead myself! Plus, with what you can bring in there is no stopping us! Let’s do it!!”

Paul ruined my high by sticking out his hand like a stop sign. “Hold on there, soldier.”

He flipped to the next page in his notebook and we went over the numbers. There was a list of tools we’d need that included machinery to work on transmissions and engines. The list added up to over $200,000! Paul explained that he had seen those machines sell for pennies on the dollar in the past when business owners went out of business. He planned to keep an eye out for those kinds of fire sales. Or, we could look into borrowing the money and buying everything brand new.

We went over it and my hope ran into the curb. Which of us was going to get the credit for a couple hundred grand put in their name? Neither of us was that creditworthy. Credit stopped looking like an option. I had to manufacture some hope… I saw my rules and regulations… I saw Bob cooking speed for us… I saw Paul finding the machines at pennies on the dollar within six months or so…

Paul turned the pages in his notebook and showed me his other business plan. Buying and selling used cars. He had a list of government seized auctions that promised a lineup of newer cars, exotic cars and great deals on them. After all, they’d been seized by the government, they should be pennies on the dollar, right? We were all set to go to the first government seized auction on the list.

CHAPTER 69

As the day approached I started to have second thoughts. Where was the future in buying a used car and tying up that kind of money while you wait for a buyer? It really didn’t look any different than buying our other products. But with our other products there was an unquenchable demand for them.

We got to the auction and ran into problems immediately. The advertisement for the auction had said we’d have a half hour to check out 200 vehicles. Paul and I had planned to find vehicles that were low profile, that everyone else wouldn’t want, but that we could still turn a nice profit on. We were going to check those vehicles out during that half an hour to write down the mileage, look under the hood and check the tires. The guy running the auction on the bull horn told everyone that things were running late and that half an hour was cut down to 2 minutes! With our pens in the air over blank paper like all the other hungry buyers, we got pushed out of the bullpen. We got shuffled into our seats and accepted the placard to hold up to bid on cars. I looked at the number 123 placard I had in my hand and at Paul with his Kelly blue book.

The cars started to roll through in front of us. One right after another cars went by and people around us put their placards in the air to bid.

It looked like the best of the vehicles were coming down the line first. Clean looking Mercedes Benzes’ went by that were a few years old… Clean looking B.M.W.’s went by…

Paul whispered, “Those are out of our price range.”

A Camaro with the 5.7 engine I’d always wanted went by. I raised my placard. Paul urged me to lower it. I did.

We looked at his blue book to see what the buyer saved. Not much.

The same thing happened with a corvette. The buyer didn’t save that much money.

A Lexus went by that everyone wanted. The winner paid what the blue book said it was worth.

I told Paul. “There are too many rich people here! Everyone wants to leave with a vehicle and there’s a bunch of impulse buyers driving the prices too high.”

A limo went by, then an Audi, then a Jeep Cherokee, then a Porsche, then a Cadillac. I looked to Paul for guidance. He shook his head no.

As half of the cars went by, the cheaper ones started showing. Honda Accords rolled through and on by. Acura Integra’s, Mitsubishi’s, and some trucks started to appear. I felt the impulsiveness of the situation wrap around me. My mind started telling me that this legal avenue isn’t happening. Then I looked at the mechanic shop and was depressed that it was just out of reach also. I’ve got to buy a car and get us started!

A Mustang went by and I found myself wanting it. I raised my placard. Paul lowered it.

After the Mustang, a tiny looking blue car with three antennas on it rolled through. Paul urged, “This is the one! Nobody will want it, raise the placard!”

I looked at him like he was crazy. This had to be a joke. A little Ford Festiva.

Paul was serious, “Nobody will want to bid on it! We’ll get it for pennies on the dollar!”

I asked Paul, “What’s up with those three antennas?”

Paul found it in the blue book and showed me. A two year old 1993 Ford Festiva went from $6,900 to $8,200.

I raised my placard. The only placard against me was a Vietnamese looking guy. The epic battle was beginning. West against East.

The auctioneer on the bullhorn asked, “Do I have $1,100?”