Something There

I live a different life. One thing my family does not know about, and if I told you, we’d both be killed. When I sit at the table with my boys and girls, it is for such a short time that you could say that it is not my life, or at least where I spend it. I took an oath, and rule five says: If your wife is giving birth and we call you, you come, and it is true. I live that life. My life. Our life. I know Vito Corleone says a man who doesn’t spend time with his family is not a man, but he’s a character, and I’m the real thing. I run brothels, gambling dens, and extort businesses for money. Never the people, just their businesses. This is our side of town, and when my neighbors have problems, they speak to me first. The only time I talk to the police is when I give them their kick-backs. My name is Anthony.

I was a cop for 12 years because I was asked to, and after an unreported fight I had with another officer who accused me of selling steroids, I left, just like I was asked to, and with my clean background and perfect credit, I was able to take out loans for some strip clubs. I legally live in Texas, but the strip clubs are scattered all over the Midwest; Stray Katz. My oldest brings his friends sometimes, and I let them go into the Judge’s room, which is the room where politicians, police officers, and other people who like to get their balls stepped on in high heels get filmed, but what do I know? I’m an ex-cop and family man.

I never had long hair. I always shave my head because my hair is beautiful and curly. I never wanted to be the guy who brings me to his garage and shows me all of his Porsches, and depending on who it is, I have to pretend I like what I’m seeing. I drive a black Nissan Versa. People in Nissan’s don’t get pulled over unless they want to get pulled over, but then again, the cop who accused me of selling steroids, I once chased him in his squad car, and he was so afraid that he pulled a black guy over. I should have stopped, but they have video now. The poor guy was trying to go to work.

I don’t drink or pay taxes. My wife, Erica, does that. She also pops xanax and her face just became more plastic than flesh this year. She looks like a penny with hair that has just come out of a grease box. I love her. We have two girls and three boys; Tina, Marie, Joey, Nico, and, of course, my oldest is also Anthony. They’re good kids, and she’s a good wife and mother, unlike the piece of shit I grew up in under the freeway. My mother, father, and I lived in a convenience store owned by our chink landlords, and all I ever did was rob them and then my father would fight me, and my mom would scream at the passing Porsches and Nissans on the highway right out our window. My father worked in a factory, and my mother wasn’t allowed to do anything. I remember they bought me ice cream once, and then I met some other Diegos down the street. One of them, already old, took a liking to me when I started acting like him, and he essentially created this whole, “You are going to be a cop one day.” He wore thick-rimmed glasses and kept a low profile. I admired him very much, and after he died, I got my first tattoo: a spider-web on my elbow when I was 16 and living in a better place with money in my pocket.

The night Anthony and his friends showed up to Stay Katz, a dancer asked me to cut her tampon string. I said, “Do I look like Edward Scissorhands to you?”

She hadn’t heard of the movie, and the only dumb thing I have ever done was when I was 18 and put up a Pulp Fiction and Jim Morrison poster in my garage. I like movies. It’s the one thing I do alone, sometimes. I remember when I was courting my wife, I took her and her nephews to see The Lord of the Rings and decided right then and there that if I ever had to kill anyone, it would be someone with a beard or stick. That piece of shit, The Two Towers, I stayed up for about an hour and a half, and then missed the goblins attacking guys and elves with swords and arrows. I can’t remember if I had my gun on me then, but I would have killed them all.

My wife never asked me if I killed anyone. I can be an intimidating figure, 6’2, muscle, tattoos, but I love my wife because she didn’t care about that, and I treated her like a princess with an array of credit cards. Rule seven: wives must be treated with respect. Here are all ten:

1. No one can present himself directly to another of our friends. There must be a third person to do it.

2. Never look at the wives of friends.

3. Never be seen with cops.

4. Don’t go to pubs and clubs.

5. Always being available for Cosa Nostra is a duty - even if your wife’s about to give birth.

6. Appointments must absolutely be respected.

7. Wives must be treated with respect.

8. When asked for any information, the answer must be the truth.

9. Money cannot be appropriated if it belongs to others or to other families.

10. People who can’t be part of Cosa Nostra: anyone who has a close relative in the police, anyone with a two-timing relative in the family, anyone who behaves badly and doesn’t hold to moral values.

My wife said I could never kill anyone, and I swore by that until the stripper with the tampon. My life said I could never be there for my family if they called, and when my wife had a miscarriage during Tony Delarussa’s meeting, I left, but what was worse was that I broke rule eight and lied. Said I was going to snip a tampon off Rachelle’s pussy and would be right back. We were at Stray Katz, and god bless the smartphone. The police were not happy that I left because they could no longer hear and record everything with the wiretap across my chest, but I had enough information to put all those guys away for years. I knew about the hit that would happen the following week, where the money was going, and my wife was bleeding. The text from my son said, “The doctor is not sure if Mom is going to make it.” I had become the one thing I swore I’d never become, a rat, but unbeknownst to me, I remained a cop despite enjoying the lifestyle. The diegos down the street from me were police officers. I’m a diego and a cop, but I have lied to you as well. I am a father and husband first. Testifying was easy; saying goodbye to my wife was not, but I did. She heard it, and I will always love her. I think it’s my fault, but my kids tell me she had been sick for some time, and they spoke with her. My girl, Marie, says, “Mom was just a wreck,” and then I say, “Is that right, kid?” and she kisses me on the cheek. No one has ever accused me of the cost of my decisions, and every night I look and see something there. I will always love her. I think it's my fault, but my kids tell me she had been sick for some time, and they spoke with her. My girl, Marie, says, "Mom was just a wreck," and then I say, "Is that right, kid?" and she kisses me on the cheek. No one has ever accused me of the cost of my decisions, and every night I look and see something there.

Something I missed.