The First Ward district of Newark wasn't known as a "white collar" neighborhood (in fact, it was the polar opposite). Most families were either Irish or Italian, and had several things in common, including clusters of siblings that would throw each other under the bus with their parents. Each had a mother that could wield a wooden spoon with deadly accuracy, a father that existed halfway between elation and exhaustion, and enough love to hold them through to the end. The Williams clan was no exception, of course.
Clara Williams came from an Italian family, and you always knew when she was upset with you because she'd suddenly go from speaking English to spouting off in perfect Italian. All four kids learned early on to fear the silence that followed a half-whispered "madone." Eddie was a quiet Irishman who enjoyed the time he had with his family between shifts at the firehouse and sleeping in his wedding bed a few times a month. He and Ma had been together long enough that sometimes, to their children, their relationship seemed more comfortable than romantic. Still, none of the four ever heard them argue, and each thought their mother's smile at surprises roses on the table was the best thing ever. The house was never short on noise, and the family was never short on love.
Danny Williams took after his mother in many ways. He was the oldest of all the kids, and because the universe had a sick sense of humor, he was also the shortest. He learned to defend himself pretty early on, using either his mouth or his fists, and the neighborhood kids stopped picking on him by the time he'd given more than half of them a "reason to bitch." By the time Stella, Diane, and Matty came along, Danny had established himself as the neighborhood boss. He was the one other kids deferred to when figuring out what they were going do in Branch Brook Park on a Friday night or stood up to kids from other neighborhoods when they started bullying kids from his area.
Danny taking a leadership role almost from his first breath among the other kids in the neighborhood led to his reputation preceding him in many ways. By the time he was ten years old, he'd accumulated a more than passing friendship with some older kids that tended to hang out at Red's Garage. Red's was the local home base for the New Jersey chapter of the Red and White, locally referred to as the Big Red Machine. It became commonplace to find him hanging around the front entrance to Big Red's, and it sparked a life-long passion for bikes. He started learning about their upkeep and the unique culture that surrounded them, spending hours covered in oil and tinkering around with the engines. When his parents heard about where he was spending time, they'd attempted to intervene. However, he'd already cemented his fascination, and no matter how many times he was told not to go back, Danny would be in the bays with some of the guys that worked there. The first time he pulled up to his house on a Harley may or may not have caused Ma Williams to declare he was "going to give me agita, Daniel. Agita!" (The fact that he was barely fourteen years old and nowhere near legal to drive a bike was another point she was quite vocal about).
In nineteen ninety, when it was time for him to get his driver's license, absolutely no one was surprised that he wanted to test for both motor vehicle and motorcycle. The morning after he passed saw Danny riding to school on a seventy-five cherry red Sportster with the death's head insignia and AFFA on the tank. In nineteen ninety-two, Danny Williams graduated from Barringer High School (middle of the class, thank you very much), and within days, he was working full time at the garage.
By nineteen ninety-three, Danno Williams had his first ink and his first arrest. Fingers from the garage bailed him out and gave him his first tattoo. When his parents found out the next day, the disappointment in his mother's eyes was almost as overwhelming as her anger. That was the beginning of the fractures that eventually led to the end of their relationship.
By nineteen ninety-nine, Danno hadn't spoken to his parents or his siblings for a few years, and the police in Newark knew both his bike and his temper intimately. By the year two thousand, Danno had met and married Rachel, and they were building a life together. In two thousand and two, Grace was born, which completed their family. Danno had done one other stint in prison, Eastern this time, but after that, he was home full time. It was five years after Grace was born that Danno's world tilted upside down with the phone call that came in the middle of the afternoon.
A Prospect from the club had seen an accident involving Rach's bike and had said the damage was pretty bad. Twenty minutes after that phone call, Danno was sitting on the ground, forcibly being held down by Big Tiny, Red, and Red's son, Joe. While his wife's body was being carefully loaded into the back of an ambulance, covered with a white sheet, the driver of the car blew four times the legal limit. He was so drunk he couldn't hold his head up.
In two thousand and nine, an opportunity arose for Danno to make a new home somewhere (don't ask about why this opportunity arose, nor the circumstances that caused it). He quickly found himself on a plane bound for Honolulu, Grace excitedly talking about everything she wanted to do in this "paradise." Red had contacted Chin-Ho, the President for the Red and White in Honolulu, to arrange for a place to live and ensure he had a ride from the airport. Grace was buzzing with excitement at the idea of living in paradise; Danno was trying not to think about how much he hated the smell of pineapples.