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but nothing came out.

Chapter Seven

Michael: 1962

The day after his sixteenth birthday, Michael dropped out of school and to the envy of his friends began working full-time at the store.

‘How come you get all the luck?’ Max demanded.

‘’Cause he’s a pretty boy,’ Charlie snickered. ‘An’ his grandma lets him do anythin’ he wants.’

‘Screw both of you,’ Michael countered. ‘I’m a workin’ man now, so you losers better watch it.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Max and Charlie said, in mocking unison. ‘We’re scared!’

The three of them were best friends–they’d grown up together. Charlie, the son of a cop, was big and burly with a solid Irish face and Elvis sideburns. Max was shorter and wiry-looking, with crooked front teeth, a friendly smile and floppy brown hair. Michael was simply dead-on handsome.

When Vinny found out that his son had dropped out of school, he was angry, but since he’d also left school at an early age there was nothing much he could do about it, especially as Grandmother Lani welcomed the full-time help. As she got older she was gradually slowing down, and having her grandson in the store was a big asset.

By the time Michael was seventeen he was almost totally in charge. He was smart and savvy, knew what he was doing, and the customers liked him–especially when he let them run up tabs, helping them out when things were tough.

Before long he figured out a way to make extra money because business was not booming, and he soon realized he had to do something. So, after a while he began making side deals that Lani knew nothing about. For instance, she’d always refused to sell cigarettes in the store, which he thought was plain stupid. ‘This is the sixties, Grams,’ he’d informed her, on countless occasions. ‘People smoke, you gotta sell ’em what they want.’

Eventually she’d agreed, and he’d cut a deal with an acquaintance who was able to deliver cartons of cigarettes that happened to have fallen off the back of a truck. He bought them for cash, then sold them in the shop at the going price, making a healthy profit, which he put back into the business. Another acquaintance supplied him with jars of coffee, and sometimes he’d score a whole truckload of canned goods that had never quite made it to their intended destination.

Grandma Lani didn’t notice what was going on, and since he was now in charge of the books, it made things easy. Her arthritis was so bad that she could barely use her hands, plus she was becoming vague and distracted. She was still smart enough to appreciate her grandson’s active interest in the store, because Vinny certainly didn’t give a damn.

Michael didn’t consider what he was doing illegal, it was merely good business. Still, he made sure not to confide in Max or Charlie, because he was well aware that neither of them would approve. They came from families who cared about what they got up to.

He got a kick out of being in charge, and since he looked much older than his age, nobody questioned his authority.

His sex life was also going well. Shortly after dropping out of school, he’d broken up with Tina. She’d found out about Polly and confronted him. He’d admitted that, yes, he was seeing someone else, and then, as gently as he could, he’d suggested it was best they stop seeing each other.

She’d screamed, sulked, and several weeks later taken up with Max–who couldn’t believe his luck because Tina was the prettiest girl in school. Also the most virtuous. No sex before marriage–Michael could vouch for that. Perhaps if she’d been a little more forthcoming in that department, they might have stayed together.

Max had asked him if he minded. ‘Go ahead,’ he’d said magnanimously.

Privately he considered it a revenge move on Tina’s part. She couldn’t have him, so she’d go with his best friend to try to make him jealous.

Newsflash. It wasn’t working.

He met regularly with Polly. Even though she was almost twenty-one and he was only seventeen, they spent many a sweaty night in the back of the local movie-house where he found he was able to perform some of his best work.

Sometimes Polly’s girlfriend, Sandi, lent them her apartment. Those were the best nights. And there was always the hotel, although Max no longer worked there so paying for a room wasn’t something he wanted to do too often.

Polly freely admitted that she still saw her steady boyfriend, Cyril, which didn’t bother Michael at all. They both knew they were in it for the sex–and as long as the sex was hot, why should it concern him?

Things were pretty good all round. He worked hard, hung out with his friends, and Polly was there whenever he needed sex–which was most of the time. He certainly had nothing to complain about.

One day two men sauntered into the shop. The shortest man put up the closed sign and hovered by the door, while the other came over to Michael, leaned his elbows on the counter and said, ‘Hey, you. Hear you’re runnin’ plenty of business here.’

‘Maybe,’ Michael said, recognizing the man as a known wise-guy.

‘It’s your lucky day,’ the man said, scratching his chin, ‘’cause I’m here to make things run even smoother.’

‘How’s that?’

‘How’s that?’ the man repeated. ‘Well, sonny, you’ll pay us a little somethin’ every week, and for that you ain’t gonna be bothered.’

‘Bothered by what?’ he asked.

‘Don’t act dumb,’ the man said irritably. ‘You know who I’m representin’ here.’

It occurred to Michael that he could stand up to them–until he remembered what had happened to several other store owners in the area who had resisted paying protection. He thought about the smashed windows in the bar next door. The fire in the dry-cleaner’s. And old Mr Cartwright from the pawn-shop getting beaten up. The rumour on the street was that all the stores were now paying.

‘I guess we can work something

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