Page 12 of Kingpin
Dominic
“Do me a favor, remind me again, because maybe I have a bad fucking memory. Maybe I’m old and I have fucking amnesia or something. Remind me again; what’s today’s date?”
He knows what the date is. He didn’t forget, but I’ve been here enough times now to know how this is about to go down.
Lorenzo Solento, owner of Solento Deli, seems to have forgotten that he has to pay tax to my father. He didn’t have to be in this positon, he put himself here. It’s simple; the first of every month you pay the ten percent you owe just like everybody else, and as long as you do that, nothing bad will ever happen to you. Nobody can touch you, or they’ll have to explain to Donnie Collazo why they took money out of his pocket. Nobody wants to do that, so all you have to do is pay the tax. If Lorenzo would’ve paid his tax when he was supposed to, my father and I wouldn’t be here right now. But he didn’t, so it is what it is.
“Today’s the third,” I reply, but my father’s not really listening anyway. He’s just staring at Lorenzo.
“I gave you two extra fucking days to pay, and you want to stand there and expect me to accept your pitiful fucking apology,” my father snarls. “How long you known me, Lorenzo?”
“A long time, Donnie. Me and yous go way back,” Lorenzo pleads. I can see beads of sweat on his forehead, and he’s fidgeting with nerves. “You’ve always been real good to me, too. I’m really sorry about the inconvenience. Really, I am.”
“Shut your fucking mouth,” my father interrupts. He knows he can’t let Lorenzo get away with this. I know he can’t. I know he won’t. “You make me have to come down here on the weekend with my thirteen year old son to collect from you. I’d rather be at my fucking house getting my dick sucked in the bedroom while my son plays PS2, but instead we’re both here, and you’re apologizing. I’mnotgetting my dick sucked, my son’snotplaying fucking PS2, and you’re apologizing.” My father glances at me. “Dominic, lock the fucking door.”
I do as I’m told, and before I can flip the sign from Open to Closed, I hear the sound of my father’s fist bashing into Lorenzo’s face. I whip around to see Lorenzo on the floor curling himself into a ball while my father kicks him in the back of the head. His body jerks with every stomp and there’s blood on the floor that’s smearing onto Lorenzo’s white jacket.
“You stupid fuck!” my father yells as he keeps on stomping Lorenzo’s face and head. “You trying to make a fool out of me? You think I’m gonna let some dumb fuck like you hold out on me? You pay just like everybody else does, you cock sucker!”
I watch my dad kick Lorenzo about twenty times before I start to feel bad for the guy. I mean, he really should’ve known better than to hold out on my dad, but sometimes people make mistakes and have to be taught a lesson. My dad has to make an example of Lorenzo so people know they can’t get away with not paying on time, but I’m starting to feel like he’s had enough already. My dad’s still kicking, but the guy isn’t really doing much to cover up anymore. He might be unconscious already. I take a deep breath and decide to step in.
I jump in front of my father and slowly push him backwards. “Okay, Dad, he’s done. I think you knocked the fucking guy out already.” My father reluctantly backs away.
“Alright, alright,” he says, looking around me at the bloody mess on the floor. “Get the money off the counter.”
I turn around and walk to the counter where Lorenzo dropped the envelope full of cash when we walked in. As I reach for the envelope, I see a figure come running out of the back. It’s a boy—maybe a few years older than me—and he’s screaming as he runs towards me with a meat cleaver over his head. He’s ready to bash my head in, and my dad’s too far away to help, so I have to act fast.
He’s wild and out of control, so I let him swing the cleaver. He misses by a mile, and the momentum makes him tumble forward. As he tries to regain his balance and turn around, I reach back and punch him in the face. I hear a loud cracking sound and blood explodes from his nose, splattering all over the place. He drops the cleaver and falls to his knees.
“Stupid fucker tried to hit me with a meat cleaver,” I turn and say to my father. He looks at me with amusement, but doesn’t say anything.
I feel furious. I know this guy is probably related to Lorenzo—maybe his son or nephew—and he was just looking to protect him, but I was the one trying to keep my father from killing Lorenzo. I got him off of him, and this is how I’m repaid for being nice. This is what I get for showing remorse? This is why my father has always told me not to show remorse. He has always told me to bury my feelings deep down so I don’t even know they’re there, so when a situation arises, I can act without letting feelings get in the way. I should’ve listened.
I bend down and pick up the meat cleaver off the floor.
“I went out of my way to protect Lorenzo, and here you come with this fucking thing trying to kill me for it. Do I look like some kind of easy target to you? I’m Donnie Collazo’s son, you stupid fuck! You hear me? You better remember it forever. I’m Dominic Collazo.”
He tries to shield his face with his hands, but it does nothing to stop the impact of the meat cleaver on the side of his face. When he falls, there’s more blood on the floor, and his cheek looks like a fleshy mess. It looks like his jaw is out of place, too, but I don’t feel bad. I drop the cleaver and grab the envelope as my father and I walk out together. I make sure to leave the sign flipped to Closed.
When we get in the car, I can feel my father staring at me as I close my door.
“What?” I snip.
“You did good, Dominic,” he replies with a wide grin. “You did real good. There’s three things I need you to take from this, though. One: don’t ever fucking jump in my way ever again. If I’m kicking the shit out of somestronzofor being late on his taxes, I don’t care if he’s been dead for twenty fucking minutes, you don’t get in my way. Ever. You understand?”
“Yeah,” I reply, afraid to look up at him now. “Sorry, Dad.”
“Number two; when you hit that guy, you splattered blood everywhere and got some on your shoes. Now, I’m gonna have to explain to your mother why you got blood on your fucking shoes. So, get a rag out of the glove compartment and wipe that shit off before it stains permanently. If you’re gonna keep coming with me, you’re gonna have to learn to protect yourself from shit like this. Always clean up your messes.”
I reach into the glove compartment and pull out the rag while he keeps talking.
“And three; what you did in there was a thing of beauty,” I stop wiping the blood from my shoes and look at him. He’s smiling from ear to ear. “That guy could’ve hurt you real bad with that meat cleaver, but you did what you had to do. That’s it, Dominic, you have to act. You didn’t let your thoughts get in the way of what you needed to do. And the way you told him your name . . . fucking genius. I wish I would’ve thought of that. That asshole is gonna remember that for the rest of his life, and that’s exactly how it should be. I’m proud of you, Dominic. You made your old man proud in there.”
Now it’s my turn to smile. I know it seems odd for my father to tell me he’s proud I hit a guy in the face with a meat cleaver, but my dad isn’t like other dads. My dad’s a gangster. He knows I know it, too, and he doesn’t care because he knows it doesn’t bother me. No matter how many people I’ve seen him beat up over the years, he’s still my dad, and he’s the only hero I’ve ever had. My dad’s a gangster, and I’m proud of him. I’m proud to be his son.
“Thanks, Dad,” I reply, still grinning as I lean forward and get back to work on my shoes.
My father opens the envelope and counts the cash right there in the parking lot. I hear him let out a sigh of frustration.
