Rise & Fall Of A Don

Chapter 1

Most mob stories start with the mafia boss already a boss or already a Don. I will tell you the story of how I became a beast, a psycho. Most people think that psychos are born, and they are for the most part. But they can also be made. Which one in my case you ask. It's hard to say and depends on who you ask. I think it's a little bit of both. I'm going to tell you the story of my rise and my fucking fall.

Tommy Pov

It started as far back as I can remember. I was maybe 8- years old. I was playing in the backyard of our small housing project. My ball had seen better days. It's old and barely has any air in it. But I still played with it because it's all I had.

"Tommy, get in here. I need you to help me with something."

My shoulders sagged. I already knew what my mom wanted. "But mom, I don't wanna."

"Boy, get in here and do what I tell you."

I grumbled but did what she said. My mom has a major temper. She always used to blame it on her Latino Heritage. I also have a temper, which she blamed on my black/Italian father.

"And stop making that face looking like your no-good ass daddy." Like she knew who my dad was. She has sex with men for money. She said it's to pay our rent, but we live in the worst housing projects in the city. The rent was only 20 or 30 dollars. At a young age I knew what drugs were because my mom did them all.

I grabbed the belt with a grumble. I tied it around her arms and pulled it tight. Then she got the needle and jammed it into her veins and pushed the drugs in.

She laid back with a sigh. I untied the belt from her arm and threw it on the couch and went back outside and kicked my ball.

(Narration) Since I could remember I've never had the innocence of a child. It was survivor mode from the start.

My stomach grumbled. I didn't bother going into the house and opening the fridge. I already knew nothing was in there even though my mom got food stamps. Ms. Pam told me. She said my no-good ass mama didn't feed me with the food stamps. She sold them for drugs.

I left the backyard in search of food. After walking several minutes, I came upon Petro and his gang.

"What's up little man."

(Narration) I didn't say shit to him. He was the reason why my mom was on drugs.

"Aye, you hear me talking to you little punk."

"Pedazo de basura," I said.

"What you say, little mutt."

I froze. I hated that word. I know I'm mixed with a lot of races, but that's not my fault.

"I said you're a piece of trash," I yelled. Before I could turn and run, he backhanded me to the ground. I got up and kicked him in the balls and ran.

I winced and patted my eye. It was already starting to swell. I cut through houses and made my way to Mrs. Pam's house.

I was so happy to smell the aromas coming from her house. My stomach growled and cramped with hunger. I knocked on the door.

She opened the door and looked down at me silently. I walked past her inside the house.

"Boy, I know I taught you to speak when you walk into somebody's house, haven't I?"

"Si, hola senorita Pam."

"And stop speaking that gibberish here. You know I can't understand you."

(Narration) I smiled. I love this lady. She's crazy, sweet and tough, all in one.

"Hello, Mrs. Pam."

"Umm, Petro's been messing with you again." She looked over my face.

I nodded and winced.

"You too little to be picking fights. Wait til you get older. That temper of yours gone stay getting you in trouble."

I nodded.

"Are you hungry?"

I nodded my head vigorously.

"That no good bitc..." She caught herself and looked down at me. "I'll fix you something. Go wash your hands."

(Narration) I knew what she wanted to say. I didn't know why she was even trying to shield me. No one else did. At that time my English was limited but I heard the things everyone said about my mom. Hell, I witnessed most of it first hand.

After I washed my hands I ran to the table. My stomach was squeezing my intestines. Ms. Pam fed me meatloaf, mashed potatoes with gravy and sweet peas.

I was eating so fast that I choked. "Boy, slow down and have some manners about yourself. That food ain't going nowhere. Cut it up into small pieces. That way your little tummy can handle it," she chastised.

I nodded and did what she said. Mrs. Pam was always getting on me. She said she wants me to make it out of the ghetto. She did this for a lot of kids in the neighborhood. She never had kids. She said her husband was sterile before he died. I didn't know what that meant but I know she was bombed about not having any. She would smile a sad smile whenever I did something that was adorable to her. She was in nursing school and working part-time at night. She was always a hard-working lady.

When I was done eating, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hands and got up from my seat and ran to the door. "Gracias, Senorita Pam, hasta luego."

She smiled. "Boy, get on out of here with that." I smiled, waved and left. I have so much respect for Pam. Her and my mom are the same age but it seems Mrs. Pam was more motherly. If I ever left here, I would take her with me. But not my mom, I would leave her there to rot.

"Aye Tommy."

(Narration) I smiled at the memory of my boy Nan. He was always getting into something. He had my back though. I was 8 and he was 10.

"Hey Nan." Nan looked at my face and became angry.

"Who."

"Petro and the gang."

"Don't sweat that mane. I'll get my cousin nem to get that fool." Nobody really messed with Nan because his cousins were over the black gang. He had cousins all over. Most Latinos and Mexicans didn't like it when the blacks moved in. But the blacks had so many to come that everyone had to accept it. The way I looked at it was that we were all poor people trying to make it out. Mrs. Pam is black, and she helps me all the time, especially after a Latino has beaten me up or has talked bad about me or my mom.

"No problemo, mi hombre."

"Cool, where you headed, to the park?"

I nodded my head. There wasn't much to do except go to the park. I had a good show every time I went there.

The park is where all the neutral people in the neighborhood went to hang. It only had one swing, a torn monkey bar and 3 seesaws. But it had space. So, people came to play ball or show off their new trucks or cars with daisies and spinning rims. We were far away and still could hear the music and chatter. When we made it we saw girls twerking and dancing. Their booties were bouncing and jiggling everywhere. Nan and I both looked at each other, smiled and ran over as fast as we could. We watched the pretty girls all night. The guys let us drink some beer. It was awesome. I didn't want to go home.