"Sorry Sonny, I got to go." Stepping out of the car, I managed to free myself from his grip, or maybe he just released me; I really don't know.
As I pulled myself out, I glanced at my surroundings. We really were in the middle of fucking nowhere, and it would be a long walk home. There was nothing but dark woods around us, no signs of life at all - except I could see headlights whizzing by on the parkway just past the tree line, and the tavern itself.
A man and woman emerged from its door, their arms wrapped around each other, giggling as if sharing a private joke. I could go in there. I was sure that they'd have a phone I could use, but Jimmy and Danny were inside and I didn't want to see either of them. I told Sonny I'd keep my mouth shut, but I wondered if I actually saw Jimmy, could I keep my word? I wasn't so certain.
As I went to shut the car door, Sonny called out again. "C'mon, get back in the car."
This time, something in his voice made me stop. Was he really laughing at me?
I turned around to look at him, peering into the partially open doorway, ready to bolt in case I found myself staring at the wrong end of the gun that I'd been holding until a minute ago. After all, he'd already said he didn't trust me.
But there was no gun. It had disappeared from the armrest and his hands were empty, though his facial expression was not. I couldn't believe it. He was smiling.
Well, it wasn't his real smile. It was more of a satisfied smirk, and to me that was even worse. If this wasn't bad enough, he added, "I was just messing with you. What the fuck you really think of me? You think I'd actually involve you, or even allow you to be involved, in shit like that? Haven't you listened to anything I've said to you for all these years?"
Just.
Messing.
With me.
Just messing with me?!
Sometimes the anger within us starts off at a simmer and gradually increases to a rolling boil. Other times, it goes from room temperature to explosive hot in a matter of a second. It was the latter I felt at that moment.
A searing heat rushed through my body. I felt my cheeks flush red, and the explosion in my mind as it hit its peak. Before I even knew what I was going to say, the words flew from my mouth, "Messing with me? What the fuck is wrong with you? That's supposed to be some kind of a fucking joke to you? There was nothing funny about that! Nothing at all! What the fuck"-
"C, for the last time, get back in the car now." He cut me right off. His tone changed. He was serious now, and that was an order. But he wasn't looking at me; he was staring straight ahead at something through the windshield.
I looked to my right to see what he was focused on. It was the man and woman who had come out of the bar. Walking through the parking lot, they stopped about twenty-five feet from the front of Jimmy's car and were no longer giggling. They were just listening and watching with a mix of uncertainty and suspicion. I could see their heads moving back and forth as they glanced at me, then to the car- probably trying to see who was inside- then back to me again. She turned to her partner and whispered something.
With a loud, frustrated sigh, I climbed back into the car and slammed the door so hard that I was mildly surprised I didn't hear the glass shatter. But it was Jimmy's car. It was probably equipped with some super-strong, bullet-proof windows or something like it. Now that wouldn't have surprised me at all.
But I didn't give it more than a fleeting thought. I was still pissed off and I really didn't want to be back in that car sitting beside him. But a deep-rooted aversion that I had to attracting unwanted attention- especially attention that may cause a potential problem for either or both of us- overruled what I wanted for now.
I folded my arms and threw myself back into my seat. I figured I looked just like a petulant child to him, but I really didn't give a fuck.
"Nothing funny about that," I muttered, repeating myself as I watched through the windshield as the couple slowly walked away through the small lot, while throwing one or two last glances over their shoulders at us.
"Good," He responded and I couldn't help but notice an undertone of annoyance in his voice. As if he had any right to be annoyed over the situation that he caused. "Because it wasn't meant to be."
"It sure looked to me like you found it pretty amusing a minute ago."
He shrugged one shoulder, "Then you need to learn to read people better. I wasn't amused at all."
He paused, considering his next words. "As a matter of fact, I was relieved. The truth is, C, you had me going a few times there. I was wondering if you really were going to do it?"
"And what if I had?" I snapped. "Did your stupid plan allow for that possibility? Then what?"
He shook his head and let out a soft chuckle. "It never would have happened."
Of course it never would have happened. I knew that. But he didn't. "How do you know that? You said yourself, I had you going a few times."
"I said that I was wondering. But let me tell you something, C. The moment I stopped wondering and actually started to believe it, I would've taken the gun back from you, and then I would keep smacking you upside the head with it until your brain started functioning again. You need to learn to read people? Look at me right now, and you tell me if I'm serious or not."
I didn't need to look at him, I could hear it in his tone. He was serious. But I looked anyway. Yep, I was right. Dead serious.
I felt the anger slipping from me, quickly replaced with emptiness. I felt drained. The last few hours, have been like I was on a crazy emotional roller coaster, experiencing every possible emotion I believed I was capable of as if they were the peaks of the track themselves. Happiness, excitement, betrayal, anger, fear, regret, sadness, caring, confusion. I had nothing left.
But there was still something I needed to know. "So let me see if I understand? You pulled me from my friends' car, you made me ride with you out to nowhere. You then threw Jimmy and Danny out of the car, all so you can carry out this plan of yours to mess with me and see if my brain is functioning. Do I have this right?"
"No. There was no such plan. I didn't even think of it until after we got here and you pissed me off."
Huh? Pissed him off? How? By trying to understand what he was going through? By having some sympathy for him? By wanting to help him?
'No one cares', he often told me. Well, of course no one will seem to care if you're going to get pissed off when they do.
"I'm sorry if I pissed you off. I didn't mean to, but what did I do?" I couldn't think of a single thing.
But a thought in the back of my mind reminded me that Jane and my father aside, it was actually Sonny who was responsible for most of the hell that I had been through today. Threatening me, falsely accusing me, slapping me, throwing me against a brick wall, pulling me away from my friends (even though I was actually grateful for that), breaking Slick's nose for no good reason, telling me after all this time that he didn't trust me, his disturbing comatose act in the car, then 'hey C, here's a gun, go shut Jimmy off like a switch. Oh that? I was just messing with you.'
And yet here I was apologizing to him, when shouldn't it be the other way around?
Yeah it should, if it was anyone else. But this was Sonny. He didn't give out apologies; he only accepted them, and even that wasn't guaranteed. If you knew him at all, then you knew this.
"You don't know? Then let me remind you." His voice once again raised pitch in a mocking tone, "Of course, Sonny. Whatever you want, Sonny. Just say it and I'll do it, Sonny."
"That's what pissed you off?" I asked incredulously, "You asked me to do you a favor. Would you have been happier if I had just told you to take the favor and shove it?"
"Maybe. At least that would have been an appropriate answer. Let me tell you something, C. When somebody, and I don't care who that somebody is- it could be your friend, a total stranger, or even your own mother- when somebody asks you to do them a favor, there are only two possible ways to respond."
"I know there's yes and no."
"Wrong. There is 'no;' then there's 'maybe,' depending on what it is. You never commit yourself like that, at least not until you know all the details and thought it through. Otherwise, you may find yourself agreeing to become involved in something that you will regret."
"Or I can change my mind and walk away, like I just did with you."
"No, C." He shook his head slowly. "You may get away with that a few times, but there are guys out there, who, once you say 'yes' to them - even if it's just once - there's no way to turn back. They won't take 'no' for an answer. Be very careful about the choices you make in doing favors and who you do them for. Believe me, I know about these things. So trust me on this, okay?"
Somehow I knew that he was speaking from personal experience, and I did believe him. I nodded. "Okay, I'll be careful."
He returned a short nod my way and continued. "You just do what's best for you, and don't worry about pleasing others."
He brought his index finger to his temple and tapped it, "Always question everything and everyone. Always think for yourself. Don't let anyone else do your thinking for you, and don't ever let yourself become somebody's stooge. You're smarter than that. Don't let yourself become like the jack-offs that I'm surrounded by every day." His left hand did a quick backwards sweep towards the bar.
The last comment took me by surprise. After all these years, I had no idea he felt that way. "You mean Jimmy and Danny?"
He looked back towards the bar. "Jimmy's okay, he has half a brain. Sometimes even three-quarters on a good day."
He chuckled softly to himself, then became serious once again. "But Danny? He's a moron. Like Bobby, Jojo, Coffecake, and the others. All morons. They'll never get any further or become anything more than what they are now. You're half Danny's age and you've already showed me, even tonight, that you can be smarter than him. These guys can't think for themselves, so they need me to do their thinking for them, as well as smack them back into line on the rare occasion when they do get an independent thought."
I considered this for a moment, but to me his words seemed to contradict themselves. Taking a chance that he might think he overestimated my intelligence, I decided to ask, anyway.
"I don't get it, Sonny. On one hand, you say they're morons because they need you to think for them, but on the other hand you say you smack them back into line when they do think for themselves. What are they supposed to do?"
"I would like them to think for themselves, but just be smarter when they do. Not the way they go about it. You know, C, there are times when it may seem like I'm not paying attention to what's going on. Maybe I'm involved in thought, or maybe I'm engaged in something, possibly even somewhere else, but it seems these are the times these jack-offs will try to grow a brain and slip something past me. And they're morons because they actually think they can get away with it. They don't know that I see them. It doesn't even occur to them. My eyes and ears are always open, and even more so when they seem not to be. Capisci?"
I understood alright. "Yeah, I know that Sonny."
He flashed a small smile. "And I know that you know this. That's just one of the things that makes you smarter. Another one was that you asked me why. This shows that you're questioning me. That means you're doing your own thinking. Do you think Danny would do that?"
He didn't give me time to respond before he answered his own question. "No, he wouldn't. If those two came back right now, and I told Danny to go climb to the top of the roof of the bar, then dive headfirst into the parking lot, you know what he would say to me?"
I had a pretty good idea about that, but instead of responding, I just shook my head.
"He'd say 'Yeah okay, Sonny' and off he'd go to do it."
I was taken aback, and not just because that was exactly what I expected he'd say, but also because Sonny managed to do a damn good vocal imitation of him.
But then I realized, of course he'd be able to mimic it perfectly. He hears that exact phrase from Danny at least a hundred times a day.
"That sounds just like him." I meant that in both ways.
But I still had one question on my mind, "I get what you're saying, but what I don't get is why couldn't you just tell me this? You think I wouldn't understand if you just explained this to me? Why all that bullshit with the gun and Jimmy?"
He exhaled slowly. "Why? I guess I just wanted to leave an impression on you, something you won't forget by tomorrow morning."
That's some impression, I thought to myself. Of all the things you could have done, that's what you picked? But I didn't get a chance to respond as he continued.
"The problem, C, is that you don't listen to me. Words alone don't seem to work with you, so I thought I'd try something different to make my point."
"If your point was to freak me out, then you did a good job. Because I'll tell you, I was wondering myself a few times whether any of us - Jimmy, Danny or even me - were going to make it out of this car tonight."
He turned to me, arching one eyebrow. "Is that what you really think of me?" He sounded curious, but there was a serious undertone as well.
I shook my head, and without even intending to do so, I found myself doing a not so bad imitation of him. "No."
I paused a moment, wondering if I should say the rest before figuring what the hell, it's the truth. "I thought maybe you'd lost your mind."
He nodded slowly and turned away, "Fair enough."
I wasn't sure exactly what he meant by that, or how I should respond, so I was glad when he continued.
"The important thing is that you remember, that's all. Now that you've seen for yourself how easy it is to become involved in shit you really don't want to be involved in, and how quickly and unexpectedly it can all happen, maybe you'll be a little more cautious in the future. At least I hope so."
"I will Sonny." Then I added "And I do listen to you. Maybe you don't think so, but I do."
"No, you don't." He turned to me and looked me straight in the eye. "You hear me, but you don't listen to me. There's a difference."
What was he talking about? I did listen to him. Okay, maybe before when he was explaining how to go about murdering a friend and cleaning up the mess afterwards I may have not been paying as much attention as usual, but as far as I was concerned, that was more his fault than mine. "I listen," I repeated. "You've taught me a lot."
"Yeah, you listen alright." He sounded a bit annoyed.
Sonny may not mind being questioned, but I knew he didn't care to be argued with once he had stated his position. "If you listened to me, I wouldn't've had to change my plans in order to chase you and a bunch of jerk-offs across town to remove you from that car and a bad situation."
So that's what this was about. He told me a million times to stay away from my friends, but I paid no mind. Okay, so maybe on this I didn't listen, but on everything else I did. Besides, I wondered, how did he know it was a bad situation? He had no idea where we were going or why. Hell, I didn't even know myself until I was already in the car. "What do you mean?"
Before he even spoke, from his expression I knew that question sent him from a bit annoyed into full blown annoyed.
"I'm telling you right now, C, you don't talk to me like one of those moron jerk-offs that you call friends." He pointed three fingers at my chest. "I don't treat you that way, and I want the same respect in return. As soon as that window went down, I spotted at least two guns in the car. I smelled the cocktails, and I'm willing to put money down that the car was hot. So what was I to think, that youse were just heading out for a picnic in the park? The only place you were heading was jail or worse. How many times have I told you that's exactly where those jerk-offs are going to wind up, and they'd be more than happy to drag you along? But have you listened to me?"
"Okay, you're right about that, but I listen to you on everything else! I know how you feel about them, but they're still my friends." I shrugged, not knowing what more I could say.
"Your friends..." he muttered, but I still heard contempt in his voice, "I have news for you. C - they're not your friends. I'm your friend. I'd never do what they did to you tonight."
I didn't know what he was talking about, and I was starting to become defensive. They had done nothing to me tonight. He, on the other hand, had done plenty.
You really don't want me to tally that scorecard, Sonny, I thought to myself, because I don't think it will come out in your favor.
"They didn't do anything to me tonight, they just asked me to take a ride with them, that's all."
"That's all, huh?" He leaned his head forward, shook it slowly a few times before facing me again, "I don't know, C, you really need to pay more attention to what's going on around you. You tell me what you saw when I came up to the car."
I shrugged, but answered him honestly. "You were still pissed off. You told me to get out of the car. Then you almost killed Slick just for trying to talk to you." I explained in a simple, matter of fact tone.
"Almost?" he smirked. "There is no 'almost' with me, kid. If I wanted to kill him, I would have. But just the opposite, I did that jerkoff a favor."
"How? By breaking his nose?!" I asked in disbelief. Sonny sure seemed to have some strange ideas about 'favors'. It was probably a good thing that he almost never asked for them.
He shrugged in an offhand way. "I figured maybe a rap to the head might wake up his brain. Let's face it, it's been comatose for years. It certainly couldn't make him any more stupid, so it would only help. And it worked. He shut up, right?"
"Now, because of me, he knows to listen more carefully when told to do something. Which works to his favor, because maybe the next guy he chose to ignore wont be as gentle with him as I was. But anyway- what happened next?"
I thought about it for a few moments. "Nothing. You told me again to get out of the car. I got out. I went with Jimmy and we got in this car. Then you got in a minute later."
He exhaled loudly and leaned back in his seat, still looking at me.
"Okay, so let me tell you how I seen it. Yeah, I was pissed off. I had good reason to be, but I'm not going to go into that right now.
"Once I jump-started that moron's brain for him, I told you again to get out of the car. So, after seeing what happened to their idiot leader, what do your so called 'friends' do? One slams the seat forward, folding the head jerkoff along with it, then both morons in the backseat hurl you out the door without so much as a goodbye and good luck. You would have ended up kissing the pavement if I hadn't grabbed you, but do you think they gave a fuck? All they cared about was protecting their own sorry asses. For all they knew, I wanted you out of the car so I could beat the crap out of you, but they didn't care about that did they? At the first sign that they may be in trouble, they threw you to the wolves. Real friends don't do that, C."
I let his words sink in as I tried to remember. Had anyone even said 'Bye' or 'See you later' to me? No, they hadn't. But that's not what was bothering me.
Sonny was right, he was really pissed off at the time. Pissed off to the point where as much as I wanted out of that car even seconds before he showed up, I still hesitated to obey his order. They didn't know what happened between Sonny and me about a half hour before, but would it have changed the way they acted if they did?
Probably not.
After all, they saw what he did to Slick. They knew he was in a violent mood. Did any one of them even ask me if I wanted to go with Sonny, or if I'd be okay? Or did they just decide to give him what he wanted before he could take out his anger on another one of them, not even considering what could happen to me?
The hurt I had felt earlier began to slip back in. I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to admit it, but Sonny made a good point there. Would real friends do that? I didn't think so.
I glanced at Sonny, thankful he no longer seemed annoyed. He returned my gaze calmly, patiently, giving me time to consider his words and work it out for myself. I was thankful for that, as well.
The question that now burned in my mind was: what was I going to do about this? I didn't feel right about cutting all ties with them. We'd all been together since we were little kids. But I also knew I'd never see them in the same way again. I wasn't sure how I should handle this.
I glanced at him again. Damn it, Sonny, why do you always have to be right about this stuff? And why is it that when you are, it often just makes me feel worse?
But deep down, I knew. The problem wasn't Sonny. He had himself together. He was smart and well read. He actually enjoyed reading. I had seen the many books on various subjects lined up neatly in the cases of his home office; the ones he was currently into stacked on the corner of his desk. But there was more to it than that. Books are good, but he also had the ability to read people, as well. I didn't. He could always see the things I missed. His eyes and ears were always open. Mine weren't. I wished I could be more like him in these ways. I know he wanted me to be. I wanted it too.
Ever since I was about seven years old, when I first began to take notice of him, my goal in life was to be just like him. I spent countless hours just studying him, watching his every move. His expressions, gestures, body language, the way he smiled and laughed, whether it was genuine or sarcastic, the way he spoke, the way the pitch, as well as tone, would change in his voice, depending on his mood at the moment, not to mention his ability to instantly switch moods from one second to the next. And I spent even more time practicing, imitating what I had observed.
No one should be able to read him better than I could, but yet I often failed at this; even a few times tonight. If I couldn't even figure him out, how would I have a chance with others?
I realized that copying his outward appearance wasn't enough. It's what was inside that gave him his abilities. In short, he had talent.
My father told me all my life that I had talent as well, all the talent in the world, as he put it. And if I used it, good things would happen for me. But he'd also warn me that if I didn't use it, nothing would happen and the saddest thing in life was wasted talent.
And that was the difference. Sonny used his talent. I didn't. Instead of listening to him, I was wasting mine, just like Slick, Mario, Ralphie and Aldo were wasting theirs. It occurred to me that maybe that's what Sonny saw in them all along, and it was the reason why he didn't want me to hang around with them. Things were becoming clearer to me.
"Did it ever happen to you?" I asked thoughtfully. "I mean, did people who you really believed were your friends throw you to the wolves?"
I expected him to say no. That he was careful and that I should be as well. That he saw it coming way beforehand and didn't give them the opportunity, and neither should I. So I was a little surprised when he answered, softly, "Yeah. Once." He sighed. "It was a very long time ago."
"So, what did you do about it?"
He shrugged one shoulder, just slightly, "It's ancient history. Let's just say I caught them by surprise when I returned, leading the pack. That was the end of it."
His tone let me know that it wasn't just the end of the story, it was the end of the subject for him. And that was okay with me. He didn't need to explain further, and I really didn't want him to. It was an unspoken understanding that we had, especially in the last year or two.
When I was younger, I was much more naive.
I remember I was about 13 years old or so, when one summer day I was sitting on our stoop, talking with Slick and Mario about what we should do with the rest of our afternoon. I heard the bus coming down our street and looked up to see my father waving as he drove by. I waved back and he continued on his way, when just moments later I noticed Sonny's car pull up in front of the bar. I watched him with interest as he got out, greeted the guys outside, and they all walked into the bar.
It was only then it suddenly dawned on me. Ever since I could remember, my father had woken up early five - sometimes even six - days a week. And no matter how he felt, no matter what the weather, he'd still get on that bus and go to work. Just so he could pay the bills, support my mother and me, and barely get by. It was the same with all my friends' fathers as well.
Sonny had always told me that the working man was a sucker. And looking at both him and my Dad, he appeared to be right. Sonny wasn't barely getting by. Even at thirteen, I could see this. He had nice clothes, never drove a car that was over two years old, always had a large wad of cash in his pocket.
One time when we were out taking a ride somewhere, he said he had to stop home for a moment.
It was the first time I ever saw his house. I didn't go inside that time; he left me in the car as he just ran in for a moment, but I remember how impressed I was. He had a house, a real house. Not some tiny apartment in a building that he shared with many others, but his own private house.
But he never had to get up early to go to work. He never had to work a set shift, or overtime, or deal with pain-in-the-ass customers or an asshole supervisor. Day after day, he just hung around the bar with his friends, either inside, or on the sidewalk out front. He just did what he wanted, when he wanted, in his own time. And it worked quite well for him.
I love my father, and I didn't want to think of him as a sucker, but it was hard as hell not to, especially when Sonny was living proof that there was a better way.
I knew then who I wanted to be like, but I needed to know how he did it.
I got my opportunity to ask him a couple of days later when we were having lunch at Gino's, as we usually did, once a week.
We'd just ordered, when I turned to him. "Sonny, can I ask you a question?"
He looked at me curiously. "Yeah sure. What's on your mind?"
"I was just wondering, where do you get your money from?" I asked that directly. At that age, one's talent for subtlety is not very well-developed.
The look on his face that flashed briefly before he smiled told me it was a question that he hadn't anticipated.
"Money? You shouldn't have to worry about such things at your age. Besides Gino's a good guy. You know he never charges us for lunch." Then his smile quickly faded. "Why do you ask? Is there a problem at home?"
"No, no problem. It's just that you seem to be doing okay." And even as I said it, I knew the word 'okay' was quite an understatement. "Even though you don't work, so I was just wondering, that's all."
"I see." He took a slow sip from his glass before turning back to me. "But who says that I don't work?"
I shrugged. I knew the answer, of course. I had heard my father say it in one form or another a few times. 'Sonny thinks he's a tough guy, but if he ever had an actual job and worked for a living, he'd find out real quick he's not so tough, after all'.
But there was no way I'd tell Sonny he said that.
"No one," I replied, "But how do you work when you're at the bar all the time?"
"It's easy, C." The smile was back. "Being at the bar is my job."
I'm sure the expression on my face was as skeptical as I felt. Your job? You get paid for hanging out with your friends at the bar? I was supposed to believe this? I was thirteen years old, not six. If it were true, I suspected that every guy in the neighborhood would line up to apply for such employment.
But on the other hand, Sonny never lied to me, and I couldn't see why he would lie about this. I had to know more.
"I don't know, Sonny, what are you saying? You get paid to be at the bar every day? Who pays you? Tony? How does that work?"
He took another long sip. "Yes, and it's complicated. When you get older"-
I knew what he was going to say. That when I got older, I'd understand. I heard this from both him and my father more times than I could count. This was the one thing that they had in common, whether they knew it or not, but I was not going to let it go this time. I cut him off. "But I am older now, so why not try to explain?"
He sighed. "Yeah, I guess you are. Okay, this is how it is. I've known Tony for a long time. Before he took over Chez Bippy. This was back when the hair on his head wasn't removable."
He flashed me a quick grin, and the thought of that humorously horrible toupee that Tony always wore made me to return a smile of my own before he went on.
"He bought the bar and things were pretty good for a few years. Then it started to change. The money coming in was slowing down, the bills were going up, he was building up serious debt; he was having some problems. So, one day he came to me and asked if I could help him out. I lent him some money, enough to clear up his debts, and get some of these guys off him, you know? The deal was, that he would pay me back a certain amount each month, in six installments.
"Everything was okay in the beginning. Then the third month payment came late, and was short. The next payment didn't arrive when due. That's when I went to speak to him about it, and we had a long talk. He explained that he wanted to pay me back, but he was having problems collecting money from people that owed him, and to make things worse, his main suppliers were threatening to cut him off, and the inspectors were giving him a hard time about renewing his license. Because of this, not only did he not have my money, he was going back into debt again. And unless the license situation was taken care of, he'd have to shut the bar down."
Sonny stopped to let the waiter to replace his near-empty glass with a fresh one, and took a quick drink from it. I was listening raptly to this story, but I took advantage of the quick break to grab a few swallows from my own glass.
I remember I was drinking Dr. Pepper, I used to love the stuff back then, and Gino would keep a supply on hand just for me.
To this day, I still don't know what Sonny drank. He never ordered it. The waiter would ask him, 'What would you like Sonny, the usual?' and he would nod his head just once, and a moment later his drink would appear. I could tell by the color it wasn't wine. I figured it had to be some type of hard liquor. Average guys drank wine and beer. Guys like Sonny drank differently; so I believed anyway.
I put down my glass and gazed at him, fascinated with this unknown piece of history and anxious for him to continue. I didn't have to wait long.
"He asked me if there was any way possible that I could give him some more time, and lend him some more money." He paused for a moment, perhaps replaying the scene in his mind.
"Did you?" I prompted, though by the look on his face, I knew the answer.
"No," he shrugged. "I didn't see the point, and I told him this. He couldn't afford to pay back what he already owed me. He owed other people as well, and I couldn't see how his getting deeper into debt was going to help either of us. We talked about this, threw a few ideas around, then came up with a better solution. That I would be like" - for a couple of seconds he seemed to search for the correct word - "like a silent partner in the bar. And instead of paying me the money back, he would just give me a percentage of the money the bar takes in every week. So, he would take care of the day-to-day business like he always did, you know: inventory, ordering, paying bills, any payroll etc. And I went around to talk with the people who owed him money, explained to them how things were, and within a week we collected all of it. I negotiated a deal with the suppliers, and took care of the licensing issues.
"Since then, I just keep an eye on things over there. After all, it's in my interests to do so. I make sure people pay their tabs when they're supposed to, take care of any problems that may come up. It turned out to be a good arrangement for both of us." Another sip and then a smile, "So does that answer your question?"
I returned the gesture, "Yeah it does, thanks." And I couldn't resist adding, "And I understand fine, nothing complicated about it."
"Good." And that's as far as he got before our food arrived, and we moved on to a different subject.
I hate to admit it, but because of that conversation, for the next couple of years I naively believed that (along with occasional lucky nights of cards or dice, and getting good tips at the track now and again) this was how he made his money. That owning a bar, even as a partner, was apparently a very lucrative business and easy money when compared to what the working suckers had to do and put up with.
For the longest time, I wanted to be a bar owner and I would spend time imagining it, thinking of where I would like the bar to be located and what I would name it.
But as I got older, especially in the last year or two, the truth about Sonny was becoming much clearer to me. He and my father were right. As time passed, I was understanding more. It's not that Sonny lied. The story he told me that day was true. But what I'd come to realize was that this was very typical for him. He would pick and choose which details he wished to reveal, and which he kept hidden.
I now knew that the story was much more complicated than I realized at the time, and that he simplified it for my benefit. There were so many details that he slipped past me, which back then, I hadn't noticed. Such as: where did he get that kind of money to lend to Tony to get out of debt? And how was it that Tony tried unsuccessfully for months to collect money from those who owed him, but Sonny paid them a just a single visit and had it all within a week? Not to mention how he appeared to effortlessly resolve the supplier and legal issues when Tony failed at these as well.
And this 'good arrangement' that they had, which seemed reasonable at the time, now appeared to be a bit suspect to me. Sonny wasn't getting a percentage of the profits; he was getting a cut of the take right off the top. He never disclosed to me how much the original loan was for, though surely it had to have been paid back, with interest, by now. Yet he still received his money every week.
Knowing Sonny as I did, it wouldn't have surprised me at all if this was his plan from the beginning. It was most likely that he intentionally put a fairly short-term and very high interest rate on the loan, purposely setting Tony up to be unable to make the payments, just so he could make this deal with him.
It also wouldn't have been much of a shock to me if he was 'intimately' aware of the supplier and licensing issues before Tony even mentioned them to him.
This was a win-win situation for Sonny either way. If Tony paid him back in full as promised, then great; he made some good money off the interest. If Tony failed to do so, then Sonny would make sure that he paid anyway - for the rest of his life or until he signed his rights to the bar over to Sonny. In the meantime, it served him well as a 'legitimate' source of income, if the need to show one should ever arise.
And from the snippets of conversations I overheard, the whispers behind closed doors and such over the years, it seems that Tony wasn't alone. There were many other business owners in the neighborhood handing money over to Sonny - either directly or indirectly - on a regular basis, for one reason or another.
Back then, it was just these types of details that I would have wanted to know about, but never would have understood. But now the difference was that I understood them, but really didn't want to know.
And it wasn't only my understanding that improved over the years. It was my talent for subtlety, as well.
The time had long passed since I could get away with asking him about such things. I'm sure he knew that by now I'd figured it out, but he refused to talk about it. This crap he just pulled on me a few minutes ago was the closest he'd ever come to revealing to me how things worked in his world. In our friendship, this subject was taboo. We didn't ignore it, but we both danced around it. It was something we both acknowledged, but never spoke of.
So, when he told me that he 'caught them by surprise' I automatically understood the implication, but didn't need or even want to know anything more. It was, as usual, a quick dance, and that was the end of it.
He exhaled slowly. "C, no matter what you think, I'm only trying to help you." His voice softened even more. "A long time ago, you helped me. You didn't have to, you owed me nothing, but you did anyway. And I appreciate it, both then and now. I tell you these things, I show you these things, because I want you to learn that you need to keep your eyes open, that you need to take notice of what's really going on around you. I want you to be more careful than I was at your age. I want you to make better decisions than I did, to make better choices in all that you do, because even the small ones can shape your life forever. I'm just trying to save you from having to learn some of these things the hard way. The way I had to."
I knew this. On some level, I'd always known this, though occasionally I'd forget. It was still nice to hear, though, and my response came not from my head, but straight from my heart.
"I know, Sonny, and I appreciate everything you've done for me in all this time. You taught me so much. Okay, I helped you out years ago, but the way I see it, you've more than repaid me. At least ten times over. And I can't thank you enough. I think it's me who owes you, now." And I meant every word of it.
He just stared straight forward and slowly shook his head, "Not at all, kid."
We sat in silence for a minute or two, before I shifted back to my mind to ask, "So, is that why you made me take a ride with you tonight? Why we're here? So you could tell me all of this?"
"No." He settled back in his seat, "The truth is, I really did want to ask a favor from you."
Well, at least I knew my options, now. I could say no, but that was one word I had always had difficulty with when it came to him. Or I could just say 'Maybe, it depends on what it is'.
But instead, I chose a third option. "Another favor, huh?" I asked, before trying my best Danny imitation. "Yeah, okay Sonny. Whatever you say. You want me to get some gasoline and torch the bar with everyone in it?"
He looked down, and his hand covered his eyes while he slowly shook his head. "No."
He removed his hand and turned to me, flashing me a sly smile, "At least not before we get to watch Danny dive off the roof."
At that point, we both looked towards the bar and shared a short laugh. It felt good.