* J *

Part Two: Chapter 7: Promotion

Jack's POV

For two years I was Falcone's errand boy. It taught me how the mafia worked. The boss was a man with connections everywhere. Businessmen, politicians, and cops were held tightly under his thumb. He's the guy you go to when unions threaten to strike. When cops are trying to seize kilos of dope, Falcone is the guy who makes them stop. If thugs keep breaking into your store and holding you at gun point, Falcone is the guy who makes them disappear. If your daughter gets raped and the cops can't arrest the guy, Falcone is the one who can have him castrated.

But once you ask for the bosses help, you're indebted to him for life. When he helps people it's never for free. Everyone must pay a tribute. Money is best, but sometimes its a free meal, or free drinks, free admission to sports events. You would think that all those free rides would just make his wallet grow, but he had to grease a lot of hands.

That's where I came in. I was the guy who delivered envelopes of hundreds to dirty cops, crooked politicians, and anyone else who the boss paid for favors. But it was free rent, free food, a car, a gun and spending money for me. I didn't give a damn about all those crooks, I was out for number one.

I drive myself to the bosses strip joint with a suitcase of money in the trunk. It was from a drug kingpin who was paying to make sure his heroin shipment gets through the harbor without being seized. Boss has a vault underneath the club's floor. That was his bank. The club his headquarters and office.

When I get there I walk right in without having to pay an admission.

Then right past a man in a suit and dark glasses with a Beretta under his arm. It doesn't even matter that I'm only seventeen and technically not supposed to be here. Once inside my eyes find the girls disrobing on the stage. They all give me waves and dance for me. They always try to rope me into lap dances because they know how old I am.

Don't get me wrong, they're hot, but I see no point in paying twenty bucks to not be able to touch them. I had no interest in being teased. Why would I want to walk around with a hard on in public? Doesn't sound like much fun to me.

I go to the bosses VIP area and extend the suitcase out to him. He smiles up at me with his excitement clearly visible. His top guys surround him with girls in their laps. He puts his cigar in an ashtray and takes the suitcase.

"Jack my boy, sit down have a drink," he slurs, obviously drunk.

So I sit and some topless chick pours me some straight whiskey into a glass of ice. I take a sip and swirl the ice cubes with my finger.

I just watched everyone else.