FOR BLOOD AND LOYALTY

Chapter One

TUESDAY, AUGUST 10th, 1999

            “It’s the little things that count. That’s what Jackie always told me. The little things tell who a guy is. Where he comes from. Who raised him.”

            “Jackie also said the guy who doesn’t wear a seat belt doesn’t wear a condom. You should put one on,” Bobby said.

            But Victor could have cared less.

            And there they were: two best friends.

            But more importantly: two souls.

            One of them lost, and the other just looking for a way out.

            Why? Because he knew they were doomed.

            However, regardless, they had someplace to go. And as they pulled up to the red light, Victor Saravano, angry, looked out. At the corner. At the kids standing on it. Three teenaged wannabes posing like thugs. And who knows? Maybe they were. But one of them was on a cell phone and all Victor could think was:

            “My grandkids are gonna be the fuckin’ Jetsons.”

            At the wheel though, Bobby Drakis had other responsibilities than just riding shotgun. So he looked at Victor: What?

            “I used to walk three blocks to the pay-phone.”

            Bobby sighed. Me too, he thought. Me too.

            And with that, as the light turned green, Bobby drove.

            Other than the fact that they were dressed in all black, that they had just come from a funeral, it was a smooth ride. A nice black 1996 Nissan Pathfinder with nice black leather seats? Not bad for someone who just got out of the joint. But it was all over Bobby’s face. He just wanted to get the fuck out of dodge.

            He wasn’t the type of guy to leave a friend behind, though. But at the same time, he wasn’t prepared to die. Or go back Up North again, unlike Victor. So he drove carefully. He checked his mirrors all afternoon as they cruised through the neighborhoods of Northern Queens.

Bayside, Whitestone, parts of Flushing. Even Douglaston and Little Neck. Not every one of them was their stomping grounds but they were all a part of the hustle. And as they went down Francis Lewis Boulevard, past I.S. 25, their old junior high school, memories came back. They were both 26 but it wasn’t too long before that everything was still in front of them.

Like another red light.

            Everything moves slower when the world isn’t turning in your direction. So Bobby checked the mirror again. The rearview. And he looked at his face. At the razor-made scar through the outside of his right eyebrow. It was a reminder of a past life. It was from a prison fight.

            Shit happens.

            And then he looked to his right. At Victor’s face. The left side of it was all scratched and cut up. He was in a car a few days before when gun-shots shattered the window and he got hit with glass shards.

Shit definitely happens.

            Overall though, they were good looking guys. They both had charisma with a dark side. And they shared some of the same qualities, too. Honor and Loyalty chief among them. The kind of Honor and Loyalty that you can only begin to understand when you’ve been testified against by someone who you thought was your fam.