I got an apartment near Lucky Lanes. It wasn't much to look at, but it was my own and it was home. Nelson told me to buy a car and meet a guy named Jimmy Rockford.
I made a down payment on a sturdy Ford F-150 pick up truck.
It was a tough truck with dirt still in the bed from its previous owner. It was a working man's vehicle and looked a little out of place in the city.
Jimmy "The Carrot" Rockford was a 40-year-old health nut from New Daria. I met him for the first time at a diner called Wilma's that wasn't too far from the Lucky Lanes. He was a "made man," which meant that he'd been initiated and accepted into the De Le Russo Family. That meant that he was untouchable. If anyone messed with Jimmy, without Silver Dollar's okay, they were worm food.
I, on the other hand, was an associate. That meant that I was little more than a tool for the real mobsters. I was disposable and had no pull besides my connections to some important people. Jimmy was waiting for me with an egg-white omelette, whole wheat toast with no butter, and orange juice instead of coffee.
"Hey, Tony, have a seat."
I ordered a black coffee and nothing else.
The waitress nodded at me and then returned to the kitchen. Jimmy seemed to grimace for a moment as he took a bite of his healthy breakfast. I had accidentally insulted the man I was supposed to work with. It was a terrible first impression.
"So, Four Finger says you're looking for work," he said after the meal was done. "Good, let's go. You're driving."
I knew that Jimmy likely owned an expensive car or two of his own, but that didn't matter. He wanted me to drive and that meant that we had to use my pickup. He made no comment about my unique choice of transportation. He probably didn't expect me to be driving a pickup.
We didn't go far before he had me pull over in front of Flowers for You. He waved for me to come in and we entered the store. The woman behind the counter seemed friendly as she handed Jimmy an envelope. We left and went to the next store, where another envelope was waiting. It was a classic protection and extortion racket. The business owners paid their money, or things got broken. And, if they had any troubles that the law couldn't fix, Jimmy helped them out. The morning went by quickly.
It was just after lunch when we visited Lenny's Deli. Lenny was a short bald man with grey hair. I knew something was up the instant we stepped inside. He was busy, with a dozen customers lined up at his register. Unlike our previous visits, Lenny gave us no more attention than a brisk shake of his head. Jimmy turned to me, likely curious to see how I'd handle my first obstacle.
I ignored the other customers and smashed Lenny's head against the cash register a few times.
Lenny looked shocked when I laid my hands around his head. That shocked look turned to fear when I bounced his melon against the old-fashioned cash register. He looked around for help, but suddenly all of his customers were looking at their shoes or out the window. After the third ringing of the bell in the register with his head, he relented.
"I'm sorry!" he sputtered. "I didn't see you guys there! Here, here."
He pulled an envelope out of his pocket and shoved it into my hand. I passed it on to Jimmy the Carrot and we left the store. Jimmy didn't say anything as he added the envelope to the others and we drove on to the next place.
The title the newspapers liked to use was Soldier. Jimmy was a made man and his job was to earn money. Today he was a bagman, collecting tribute to send up the ranks to Nelson and then on to the Don, Terrence De Luca. That became a regular monthly outing for us, visiting the various rackets Jimmy had going and shaking them down for our share.
