A Gangster's Tale: All Choices Have Consequences

By Benjamin Jones

Follow the turbulent life of Giovanni Moretti, a Sicilian immigrant living in 1930s New York, faced with choices and their consequences.

A Gangster's Tale is an epic that explores life through almost a centur

• Language: English
• Publisher: Benjamin Jones
• Release date: Nov 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9781802278385

Benjamin Jones

Who am I? My name is Benjamin Jones and I'm what's known as an independent (for the time being) author who is working tirelessly to make this dream of mine to be the world's greatest writer a reality (right now I'm simply the greatest writer that 99.99998% of the world hasn't heard of but I'm working to get that percentage a little lower). All jokes aside, I'm a person who has a family (wife, kids, dog, cat, all that good stuff) who works a 9-5 (actually a 7-4) job by day and writes whenever he can find the time. My goal in life is to be a writer and it's something that I take VERY seriously. Not having an agent at the moment I spend all my time either writing, promoting myself on Twitter/Facebook/Goodreads.com/etc...., or thinking of ways to get myself noticed by people. I'm been writing for a LONG time, probably a little more than half of the soon to be 34 years that I've been alive and only now are things really starting to show promise and I feel that the ball is starting to roll. My goal as a writer is to entertain my audience and to know that, once they have spent the money and time to purchase and read my book, that they will have felt it was money and time well spent.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The American Dream

1925

Ellis Island, New York City

NEXT!

A family of four nervously rushed over to a stocky man seated comfortably behind a desk.

Names? the man asked the father of the family.

"Non capisco," the father replied. He didn’t understand.

The guard sighed, then looked behind him. Another guard came scurrying over.

Ask them their names, Henry, the first guard instructed.

"Come ti chiami?" Henry asked the nervous family.

The father pointed to himself, his wife, his daughter and his son.

Luca, Rosa, Maria, Giovanni. The father nervously smiled and nodded his head.

"Cognome?" Henry asked.

Moretti, the father replied.

The stocky guard chuckled.

Christ, you’re like the third Moretti today. Are you all related in your country?

Henry chuckled also.

You can sit down now and wait for your medicals.

The Moretti family looked at him blankly.

Sit down over there! instructed the guard. He got up from his chair, leant over the desk in front of him and pointed to row upon row of benches. The Moretti family picked up their bags and started walking toward the benches. Another guard stood in front of the family and directed them to sit on the bench to their right. The Moretti family slumped down onto the bench. It was the first time they had been able to take the weight off their feet for hours.

The family had sailed across from their home town of Palermo in Sicily and were at New York’s Ellis Island, waiting to pass through immigration and be let into the country. The voyage across the North Atlantic Ocean was not a pleasant one. Many immigrants were packed onto the ships; the conditions were cramped and claustrophobic. Illnesses were rife among the passengers, but they all soldiered on to the US for a better life.

Giovanni held his mother’s hand and looked around the vast building. All that could be heard was muffled conversation, the occasional cry of a baby, and the orders being given by the guards. Hundreds of Italians still queued behind the desks where the Moretti family had just checked in; the line of desks manned by immigration staff extended from one end of the hall to the other. The queue flowed out of the grand entrance doors and into the cold. Two enormous American flags dominated the room.

At this point in his life, Giovanni was seven years old, too young to understand why the family had upped and left Sicily. He was a handsome young man, with gleaming tanned skin, thick black hair and dark hazel eyes. He had inherited many of his characteristics from his father. Luca was of slight build and average height. His face was thin, with prominent cheekbones.

Rosa rested her head on Luca’s boney shoulder and placed her hand on his chest. Rosa was slim and around five foot tall. She had long, dark hair and was very pretty; she had the same dark eyes as the rest of the family. Rosa was a family woman; she loved her two children and husband dearly. She agreed with Luca that the move to the States was the right thing to do, especially for the sake of their kids, Giovanni and Maria. Maria, who was as pretty as her mother, with her dark skin, long dark hair and dark eyes, was twelve. She knew more about what was going on than Giovanni did.

Giovanni kept surveying the scene around him, shocked at how all the people were cramped into this massive hall. He looked to his right to see another family seated on the same bench and another young man, around his age, looking at him. Giovanni smiled at the boy, the boy smiled back.

"Ciao," said Giovanni.

"Ciao," the boy replied.

Giovanni shuffled along the bench to get closer to the boy.

Mi chiamo Giovanni. Giovanni was very confident for his age and would talk to anyone.

"Mi chiamo Stefano."

Stefano was smaller than Giovanni but had the same confident demeanour. Stefano had travelled with his mother and father across the North Atlantic.

"Di dove sei?" Giovanni asked the boy where he was from.

"Trapani, e tu?"

Palermo. Non sono sicuro del perché siamo qui. Giovanni said he didn’t know why they were in America.

Mio padre dice il sogno Americano, terra di opportunità. Stefano explained it was the land of opportunity.

"Cosa e…" Giovanni was interrupted by his mother.

"Giovanni, e tempo per i nostri medici." It was time for their medicals.

Giovanni turned back to Stefano, smiled and lifted himself off the bench. Maria grabbed hold of his hand and the family shuffled off into the vast sea of people.

Stefano turned back to his parents and hugged his mother.

Stefano, hai già fatto amicizia? Stefano’s mother asked whether he had already made friends.

"Si."

Like the Morettis, Stefano, his mother Anna and his father Angelo were a close family. Angelo had high hopes of making his fortune in the US, with more jobs and opportunities here than back in the old country. Angelo had the same slight build as Luca but had a paler complexion that ran in the family. Anna was a taller woman; she too had long dark hair, which she always wore tied up. She had rosy cheeks and was always smiling; she saw the best in anything, especially her only son, Stefano. Stefano, Anna and Angelo had been sitting for hours. Stefano was restless; he kept standing up or fidgeting. Angelo kept telling him to sit still. There was no chance of rest in this part of the building. There was constant noise, pushing and shoving. It was painful for everyone who squeezed into the building, a building full of emotion − excitement, nervousness and anticipation of what awaited them when the gates opened to a new world.

A row of young boys stood in a line and awaited their fate, the fate being their medical. Giovanni was third in line and saw a man standing in front of him. A tall, middle-aged man, with glasses and a receding hairline, wearing a white overcoat. Next to him, a nurse was seated behind a desk, writing notes about each patient. Giovanni’s family waited outside the medical room, having all been examined and found to be healthy. The doctor shone a torch into the mouths and ears of each patient, listened to their hearts with a stethoscope and lifted their eye lids to look for any disease. When it was Giovanni’s turn, he nervously walked up to the doctor and stood where he was asked to stand. The doctor towered over him, measured his height and weight and shone the torch into his mouth and ears. After every procedure, the doctor would murmur some words to himself. Giovanni did not know what he was saying as the doctor was talking English, a language Giovanni was not yet familiar with.

Giovanni took the top half of his clothes off and was shocked by the cold stethoscope. Again, the doctor mumbled a few words under his breath. Finally, the doctor bent down to check Giovanni’s eyes, extended his knees and looked down at the young seven-year-old.

A fine young lad! Not many boys have been so fortunate today; your mother has been feeding you right, son. The doctor told the nurse, Explain to him that he has the all clear.

The nurse called Giovanni to the desk and explained that to him in Italian.

Giovanni smiled and walked over to where his tatty shirt and overcoat lay. He put his clothes on and looked back at the queue that tailed behind the nurse’s desk. He noticed some of the children had chalk marks on their jackets, shirts and overcoats. Unfortunately, some of them would not be so lucky as to be given the all clear, and some families would be deported back to Italy.

Giovanni opened the door to leave the medical room and found Luca, Rosa and Maria waiting to welcome him. He ran to Rosa and she picked him up. The nurse followed Giovanni out of the door and explained that Giovanni, too, had been given the all clear. Rosa and Luca both thanked the nurse. At this point, they knew they were free, free to make new lives for themselves in the land of opportunity.

It was the winter of 1925. The blistering cold swept through New York, the wind whistling past buildings, statues and street furniture. The footpaths were icy, and a layer of frost was a dominant presence. Men and women alike were wrapped up in their warm clothes, gloves, scarves and woolly hats to embrace the hard winter that had blanketed their city.

For the Moretti family and other immigrants who were now outside, waiting to be loaded onto trucks to be taken to their new homes, the cold weather hit them like a bullet. Giovanni was wrapped in his mother’s arms and Maria in Luca’s arms. The clothes that they had brought from Italy were not adequate for this kind of weather. The line for the trucks was never-ending. Darkness was beginning to fall, and the cold was getting worse, creeping up the bodies of the people standing patiently waiting. A number of pickup trucks, with canvas over the back, would arrive to pick up the immigrants, before leaving again. The immigrants would then scurry forward toward the start of the queue for their turn to be loaded onto a truck for an unknown destination.

After hours of waiting, it was finally the Moretti family’s turn. The truck reversed toward the queue of people and stopped. Two guards standing in front finally opened the gate for them to go through. The two guards chuckled at each other.

Didn’t anyone tell you what the winters are like in this country, huh?

Luca looked awkwardly at the guard as he did not understand what he was saying.

You’re going to need warmer clothes than that if you want to survive this winter, the other guard explained, blowing out smoke from his cigarette.

The guards helped the family and others onto the back of the truck until it was full. With all their luggage, there was barely an inch to move. The truck set off into the cold winter’s evening.

The Moretti family were at the front of the truck as they were first on. That did not stop Maria and Giovanni scurrying through the other passengers to the back of the truck to get a view of the city that would be their new home.

"Maria! Giovanni!" shouted Luca, prompting them to come back. It was no use. Maria and Giovanni were too eager to see the city that awaited them. The rest of the people tutted and swore as Giovanni and Maria pushed their way past.

The children could not believe their eyes. The cars, the trams, the steam trains, the people, the buildings, the architecture, the lights, the neon… It was a whole new world. It was worth being more exposed to the cold to see all of this. Giovanni was gobsmacked and struggled to take it all in.

"Guarda, Maria, guarda!" shouted Giovanni, pointing to a steam train as it hurtled along on a bridge above them.

"Guarda, Giovanni!" Maria pointed to a horse and cart. The horse was beautiful, a groomed black stallion, towing a decorated cart.

Giovanni and Maria thought they had fallen on their feet.

The truck came to a halt. All of a sudden, the neon lights, the cars, the bridges, the trains, and the fancy architecture had all gone. The immigration guards unlocked the back of the truck and started letting people out.

Giovanni and Maria reunited with Luca and Rosa. They all looked around. This part of New York was not as nice as what they had already seen. It was not well lit, and the buildings were not in the best condition, with smashed windows and uneven infrastructure.

These are your new settlements! announced a guard. All the immigrants turned round to face the man.

You are now on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, a place we like to call ‘Little Italy’ due to the vast majority of Italians now wanting to live here. We have now designated to you your own place to live, where you can mix with other Italians, cook with other Italians, eat with other Italians, piss with other Italians, shit with other Italians.

Another guard laughed at the crude joke.

When I call your names, you will be assigned to a settlement. Rossi?

"Si, si." A lone man stepped forward towards the guard, who pointed to a block of apartments behind him.

Pick one, make it your home, enjoy it, explained the crude guard. Colombo?

A family of five walked over to the guard, a mother, father, two sons and a baby of a couple of months.

That apartment there, said the guard, pointing to another block.

Bianchi?

A couple scurried over.

Romano?

A family of three met the guard.

Moretti?

Luca picked up the keys to their new apartment and walked over with his family. They climbed up creaking, uneven stairs with all their luggage and finally got to the apartment. Luca unlocked the door, opened it and flicked a switch. A dim light shone above them. Luca put his hands on his hips and sighed as what lay before his eyes was an utter mess. A construction site at best. It was one room, with a toilet, table and beds all in one small area. This was poverty at its best. The family stood in silence as they gazed at what would be their new home. Rosa could see the disappointment in Luca’s face. She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him.

"Luca, andrà tutto benne." Rosa assured him that all would be fine.

Maria and Giovanni joined their mother and father and all huddled together.

The next day, Giovanni was playing with some toy cars he had brought over from Italy. He sat outside on the steps of his apartment so Rosa could keep an eye on him. He was wrapped up in his father’s jacket to keep out the winter cold.

Giovanni?

Giovanni looked up to see a young boy towering over him, so he stood up.

Stefano?

A smiling Stefano greeted him.

"Vivi anche qui?" Stefano was amazed to see that Giovanni lived here too.

"Si," replied Giovanni.

"Mio padre non e contento dell’appartamento." Stefano told him his father wasn’t happy with the apartment.

"E una discarica, la nostra casa in Sicilia era molto meglio." Giovanni complained that his old house in Sicily was better.

"Mio padre dice che devo andare a scuola e imparare l’inglese, presto troverà lavoro." Stefano said that his father would have to learn English and then would soon get a job.

"Io, andremo molto meglio qui quando parliamo inglese." Giovanni stated he also wanted to learn English.

Giovanni, la tua cena e pronta! Rosa’s voice came through the thin walls of their apartment, announcing that dinner was ready.

"Devo andare ora," explained Giovanni, as he waved to Stefano.

Stefano turned around and walked back to his apartment as another winter’s night settled down on Little Italy.

CHAPTER 2

The Take

Six Years Later

1931

A thirteen-year-old Giovanni Moretti strolled down Mulberry Street in Little Italy on a wonderful spring afternoon. He had just finished school and was about to start his shift at his father’s bakery, Luca & Giuseppe’s.

It had been a good six years for the family since arriving in New York. The events that had created turmoil for most of America in recent years, such as the Wall Street crash of 1929 and the consequent Great Depression, had somehow managed to miss the Moretti family.

Not long after the family settled in Little Italy, Luca found work in a lot of manual labour jobs, constructing roads and railway tracks. As luck would have it, when the Italians flocked to New York, many Americans were on strike, hoping to make their employers improve working conditions and wages. That’s where the Italians came in. Due to living in poverty and having no money at all, they had no choice but to work for the wages employers were offering at that time, which were enough to sustain some kind of living.

As time progressed, other types of jobs became available, such as civil servant roles and several trades.

Whilst Luca was doing manual labour, he made new friends and learned to speak English, although his Italian accent was still very strong and he still struggled to say some words. One of his friends was Giuseppe Mancuso. After a day’s work, they would usually go to a bar, drink coffee and have a laugh before heading home. Giuseppe was ten years older and had immigrated back in 1917. He had done manual labour the whole time he had been in New York to support his wife, Sofia, and his son, Francesco.

Giuseppe was a great cook; that was where his passion lay. After becoming friends, the two discussed opening a business in the heart of their Italian neighbourhood, and the rest was history. By late 1928, they had saved up enough to rent a shop front on Mulberry Street and established Luca & Giuseppe’s Italian Bakery. The Moretti family had gone from strength to strength.

Giovanni twisted a brass door handle to the shop, and the bell rang above his head. He was greeted by his dad on the shop floor.

The shop was laid out beautifully. Cakes, pastries, breads − the smell would hit you like a punch. Walking in there was enough to make you hungry. The shelves were stocked every morning, and by the end of the day, they would be empty. Some days, the queues would trail out the door. The bakery really had a foothold in the community.

"Ciao, Giovanni."

"Pomeriggio, Papa."

How was your day at school? Luca leant upon the counter. He was wearing white overalls and a white apron on top of a shirt and tie. He hadn’t changed much in six years. He’d gathered a bit of plumpness around his face and was better groomed but was still the same slightly built man.

Yeah, good. Giovanni was still his handsome self, better groomed and wearing better quality trousers and a nice fitted shirt, buttoned up to the collar.

Hey! There he is. A plump man with a giant grin came out from behind Luca. Giuseppe was a bubbly character, always laughing and positive. He loved Giovanni as his own son. He walked over to the door where Giovanni was standing and gave him a rough cuddle, shaking him about in a bear hug. Giuseppe was short and plump. He used to be thin when working as a labourer, but since he’d started baking, he had gained some weight. He always wore a flat cap that sat on top of his head, and his dark eyes would pierce through you. He wore a messy, stained white overcoat and apron whilst at work, and he, too, spoke with a significant Italian accent.

You want to help me prep for tomorrow? asked Giuseppe.

Sure thing, Giovanni replied.

Luca, Giuseppe and Giovanni would work late, usually until around eight in the evening, baking, preparing and cleaning. Luca was happy he was able to put his son in a position where he could work and earn his keep. Some of the Italian kids in the neighbourhood were led into crime. Luca was proud of his son and was happy to keep him off the streets.

Look, you roll the dough like this, instructed Giuseppe.

While they rolled the dough, Luca cleaned up the shop floor and other parts of the kitchen. Until now, Giovanni had been put onto cleaning duties, but Giuseppe wanted to show him some baking techniques.

If you feel the dough is wet, add some more flour, and if you feel it’s dry, add some more water, ah, Giuseppe explained.

Giovanni kept kneading the dough and asked Giuseppe to evaluate his efforts.

It’s good, ah. Let’s put it in the oven so your father can clean our work station.

Giuseppe put the loaf in the oven.

Now wait for about twenty-five minutes; you have to let the bread turn golden brown.

Giovanni helped his father clean up whilst the loaf was in the oven. Twenty minutes later, the oven bell rang. Giuseppe took the loaf out of the oven and started squeezing and prodding it.

Hey, Luca, Giovanni, get out here, ah!

Luca and Giovanni ran to the kitchen.

Luca, your son has baked the perfect loaf! Watch out or he will be coming for your job.

They all laughed.

Yeah, watch out, Dad!

Luca laughed again and started chasing Giovanni round the kitchen.

The three left the shop and Luca locked up. Giuseppe lit up a cigarette and passed one to Luca, who did the same.

I will see you tomorrow, Giuseppe, said Luca.

"Buonanotte, Luca."

Giuseppe lived in the Bowery, whereas Luca lived in an apartment a few blocks down on Mulberry Street. They had managed to get out of the slums withina few months of arriving. Luca and Giovanni walked home under the dark velvet sky and the bright stars. Luca liked this part of the day; he could spend some quality time with his son.

What did you think of my loaf, Dad?

Very good, son. The bakery could be yours one day, and you will be making more than just one.

Hmm, possibly. Giovanni shrugged.

You don’t want the bakery, Gio?

Hmm, maybe. I’m thirteen, Dad. I don’t know what I want.

Luca took a puff of his cigarette.

That’s true. When I was thirteen, I would not have believed you if you’d told me I would be in America with my own bakery. Luca chuckled.

What did you want to be?

I was never sure, to be honest with you, Gio. I always just went with the times.

But what made you move to America, Dad?

More opportunity than back home, Giovanni. Are you happy here?

Yes, Dad, I am. I have Stefano and my other friends from school, I earn a little bit of money − I’m in a better position than my other school friends.

I’m glad you see it that way, Gio. It will give you smarts at an early age that none of your other friends will have. You’ll go a long way in life with that attitude.

A rough-looking man was sitting against a wall, smoking a cigarette. He wore tatty clothes and looked very depressed. As he saw Luca and Giovanni walking down the road, he rose to his feet and stumbled over to the pair.

Please, sirs, could you spare a dollar so I can have a warm drink tonight?

Luca reached into his pocket and tossed him a coin.

The man thanked Luca.

What has the world done to you, my friend? asked Luca.

I used to work on the skyscrapers, but ever since the crash, nobody has any money and employment is hard to come by.

Yes, it has been a hard time for some.

I just want an honest job so I can feed my family. The man started to cry.

Hey, my friend, no need to cry. Come by the bakery tomorrow and I will sort you out some bread.

Luca put his hand on the man’s shoulder to comfort him. He looked down at Giovanni, and Giovanni smiled.

God bless you. Thank you.

I will see you tomorrow.

Luca and Giovanni left the man and walked further down Mulberry.

The crash has hit some hard, Giovanni. We are lucky to be in the position we are in.

What was the crash, Dad?

The Wall Street crash, son. Wall Street is the stock exchange where folks invest their money. People thought their money was worthless and started throwing it out of windows. It was a really strange time, and ever since, people have been struggling to find work. They call these times the Great Depression.

Throwing money out of windows! Giovanni exclaimed.

I helped that man out because I believe in good karma. I do him a favour, the world will do me a favour.

Luca and Giovanni arrived at the entrance to their apartment building and climbed the stairs to the top floor. Luca juggled the keys with some of the cakes and bread he had brought home from the bakery. He opened the door to their apartment to find Rosa and Maria had cooked up some spaghetti bolognese and were about to serve it. The new apartment was worlds better than their first settlement. It was well lit and nicely furnished. A small kitchen neighboured a big room in which were the dinner table and a few armchairs. There were three doors beyond the kitchen, leading to Rosa and Luca’s bedroom, Giovanni and Maria’s bedroom and the toilet. It was luxury.

"Buona sera." Luca walked up to both Rosa and Maria and gave them a hug and a kiss. Giovanni went straight to the dinner table; he was hungry.

Luca placed the loaf of bread in the middle of the table and sat opposite Giovanni. Maria and Rosa sat opposite each other. Maria and Rosa still had the same lovely faces but were better groomed and better dressed. Maria’s had blossomed at the age of eighteen, and she was now beautiful. They had gained some weight but looked healthier for it. Rosa was still very petit. They were all very close.

Giovanni reached for a piece of bread, but a sudden slap on his hand came out of nowhere. He was startled and jumped. He looked at his mother, who was pointing at him.

Giovanni, you know better!

"Scusa, Mamma," a subdued Giovanni said.

The family put their hands together and started to pray.

"Il Re dell’eterna gloria ci conduca alla cena della vita eterna. Amen."

They all drew the sign of the cross on their chests and started their dinner.

It was another busy Friday at Luca & Giuseppe’s Bakery. The shelves were brimming with breads, cannoli, zeppole and sfogliatelle amongst other cakes, pastries and desserts. Luca and Giuseppe had been up since the early hours baking and preparing as they knew Fridays were one of their busiest days. The queue was four deep at this point, but earlier that morning, the queue had been out the door.

Two loaves of bread, please Luca, a lady at the counter requested.

Of course, coming right up, Luca replied.

He placed two loaves of bread in separate bags and wrapped them up delicately. Luca and Giuseppe both took great pride in their craftsmanship.

That’s nine cents, please,

The woman at the counter handed over the nine cents, thanked Luca and collected her items.

Have a lovely day and a nice weekend, Luca said with pure happiness.

Next in line was a young boy aged around nine or ten. He stood nervously with a list.

How can I help you, son? asked Luca as he leant against the counter.

The young boy trembled and stuttered but managed to get his words out in the end.

"My mom has sent me for a loaf of bread, one panettone and three cannoli."

Luca laughed to himself. The boy removed the list from his face and stood nervously, staring at Luca.

Of course, little man. Do you live locally? I have never seen you in here before.

Luca turned away to start bagging up the items the young boy had ordered.

No, we are new here.

Do you live far? It’s a lot of food to carry a long way.

We live on Canal Street, a few blocks down. The young man was now warming to Luca and making more conversation.

Ah, I see, not far for you to go. Luca put the wrapped goods into one bag for the boy to carry home.

Give me nine cents for the bread, and do not worry about the rest, said Luca.

Thank you, mister.

Are you Italian? asked Luca.

Yes.

What’s your name?

My name is Marco Ricci.

Tell your mom and pops I said hello. Marco, you are welcome here anytime. Luca smiled at him.

Thank you, sir. Young Marco Ricci grinned with joy as he left the establishment. As he opened the door, Giovanni rushed through, having just finished school.

"Ciao Papa," greeted Giovanni.

Hello, Giovanni. I need to help Giuseppe in the kitchen. Can you take some of the next few customers?

Of course, Pops.

Luca disappeared into the kitchen and Giovanni was now front of house, serving the remaining customers.

When the last of the customers had been served, Giovanni took a seat nearby. He looked up to see a scruffy man peering through the windows. The man then plucked up enough courage to open the door and enter.

I am looking for Luca. The man hesitated.

"Dad!" Giovanni shouted into the kitchen.

Luca came running out and saw the broken, emotional man who had asked for some change the night before.

Hey, my friend! Luca greeted him cheerfully.

Hello, sir.

Of course, your bread. Luca remembered.

Thank you. I was not sure whether to come.

Everyone here is a friend at the bakery, explained Luca.

My wife and daughter will be so happy; they have not had food like this in weeks.

Luca wrapped up the bread and put a few treats in the bag for him.

There you go, my friend. Send my regards to your wife and daughter.

Luca shook the hand of the man and sent him on his way. The man thanked Luca as he walked out the door.

The shop was now empty.

I’m going to help Giuseppe tidy up the kitchen. Can you tidy up out here? Luca asked Giovanni.

Okay, Dad.

Giovanni started spraying and wiping down the work surfaces and the counter. He whistled his way through his shift. The fully stacked shelves at the beginning of the day had emptied. It was all hands on deck for the clean-down so that Luca and Giuseppe could go home and enjoy their weekends.

When the cleaning was finished, Luca and Giuseppe came to the front of the shop to calculate the day’s take.

Suddenly the door to the bakery opened and the bell rang, sounding different this time around. Luca, Giuseppe and Giovanni looked up in surprise as they were not expecting anybody else that day. At the door stood a tall, stocky, well-dressed man. His black suit was perfectly tailored and worn with a crisp white shirt and red patterned tie. He stood in black brogues and wore a black fedora hat. Giovanni could not help but stare. The man had a scar on his cheek, and a half-finished cigarette sat to the left of his lips. He held the door open and another perfectly dressed man walked through. This man was short and again stocky. He wore a cream suit, black shirt and tie. His cream fedora matched his cream brogues, and he wore a scarf around his neck which hung over the front of his double-breasted jacket. He was dark-skinned, muscular and looked very serious. The sound of his brogues on the wooden floor was deafening. Time seemed to stand still as the man approached the three bakery workers. The man with the scar shut the door behind him and stood by it. Nobody was going in or out of the building with him standing there.

"Buona sera, Luca, Giuseppe, e chi e questo piccoletto?" The shorter man now at the foot of the counter spoke up in his deep voice. His cigar, still in his mouth, blew smoke out over the counter and it lingered in the air. He asked who the young face was.

Luca and Giuseppe had been caught off-guard. Giovanni sensed nervousness in his dad and his friend.

This is my son, Giovanni, Luca nervously announced as he put his arm around Giovanni. How are you, Luigi?

Giovanni looked up at his dad as Luca clearly knew the well-dressed man who stood before them. He looked back at Luigi.

Business is good, Luca. Business is good! Luigi laughed.

Giovanni, wait in the kitchen whilst we sort this, instructed Luca.

Giovanni walked off to the kitchen but peered around the corner of a wall so he could still listen in on the conversation.

"You are here for the take, si?" Giuseppe trembled.

"I hear business is good for you two. It is the last Friday of the month, and I am here to collect the pizzo. What? Did you forget that I was coming?" Luigi laughed again.

No, of course not. We have it here for you. I just need to go out the back. Giuseppe smiled nervously and headed for the kitchen. Giovanni saw him and quickly shuffled away from the wall he was hiding behind.

Giuseppe smiled nervously at Giovanni. Will not be long, Gio.

On the shop floor, Luca and Luigi were making conversation.

My wife walked past here the other day, Luca. She said the queue was out the fucking door!

We’ve been here for four years now, Luigi. We’re doing very well. The Italian community loves us! Luca’s nerves had disappeared and he was quite comfortable talking to Luigi.

Your food is the best, Luca. My wife refuses to go to another bakery. Very happy I have you and Giuseppe in our territory.

How’s the bar, Luigi? Luca asked.

The bar is good. It’s a good hangout for the crew. We can keep an eye on everything happening in Little Italy.

Giuseppe scurried in from the back with a couple of bags of food with a roll of money on the top.

"Luigi, I have some bread, cannoli and tiramisu for your wife, as well as the take, il mio respecto."

Luigi laughed. You make my wife very happy, Giuseppe. You two have my respect.

Luca and Giuseppe came around the counter, and Luigi kissed the pair on the cheeks.

"Grazie, Luigi," said Luca.

Giovanni stepped out from the kitchen and back into the shop. Luigi winked at Giovanni as he