Joey & Slick

Chapter 1

New Jersey – 5 months earlier – Feb 2018

It was not the usual mob funeral on a wet rainy Jersey afternoon. There was no fleet of black Cadillacs with darkened windows. There were no federal agents with cameras ready. There was a hurst bearing the casket followed by three non-descript vehicles. What in years gone by would have made tabloid headlines, the news was now in a short article on page four. It was just as Stefano Moretti would have wanted it.

Stefano Moretti was born in 1954. He was sixty-three years old when he died peacefully after a lengthy illness at his home with his wife Sandra by his side. Stefano was a new age mafia member far ahead of his time. As a teenager he was at odds with his father Rico, the boss of bosses in New Jersey. Rico was old school doing business in the time-honored tradition. Stefano believed the future was using their knowledge and connections to go legit. These differences had Rico trying to impose the rules which Stefano ignored causing an ever-widening gulf between the two. They hardly spoke and when they did it became a heated argument. It ended in 1984 when Rico was shot dead on the steps of his lover’s townhouse with no suspect ever apprehended.

Stefano turned his back on his father’s operations letting his subordinates fight it out. The new rules were clear. They had their business and Stefano allowed no connection to his. Rico’s crew was more than willing to accept the deal thinking Stefano would soon be broke and come begging. The result was the opposite. Surrounded by the best young minds and a few trusted holdovers from his father who were willing to join him, Stefano prospered in distribution, transportation, construction, hotels, and casinos. Stefano build an empire and it was completely legal. The Moretti name was now spoken with respect in the ’big end’ of New York City.

The cars circled through the streets with windshield wipers sweeping away the rain while Sandra sat with her two sons wiping the tears from her eyes in the back of the family car driven by their chauffeur.

Mom, you can stop the act now. It’s only us, said Renzo.

I would not shed one tear for that prick. He married you and treated us like shit our whole lives, said Matteo.

Let her be. He was good to her. Compared to others he was always a gentleman. He paid everything for us, added Renzo.

That’s all well and good. He threw you and I a bone from time to time. Big deal. We had to make it on our own. We will see just what kind of guy he was when the lawyer reads the will in a few days, said Matteo.

Sandra started to cry in earnest. She held a Kleenex to her nose and blew snot mixed with tears. She thought I did everything for Stefano. I had two children to him. When Renzo was born he had not married me but with some insistence we were married soon after. I had Matteo and our life was happy until the boys grew up. Stefano wanted what was best for them. They were head strong like him with their own ideas. A riff developed and our marriage was never the same.

The three of them stood head bowed and watched as the casket was lowered into the ground. Another dozen of Stefano’s closest associates joined them. Umbrellas completed the somber affair as a portly priest said a few words. Hugs and kisses were passed around with the shake of the head before everyone returned to their vehicles closing out the last day in the life of Stefano Moretti.

Matteo could be heard saying to no one in particular, That shit is over. Now the fun begins when they read the will.

It was a spacious office with a view of midtown Manhattan from the thirty-first floor. The grey-haired principal of Meccini and Associates, Dario Meccini, had been Stefano’s personal lawyer as well as his friend for many years. Now it was his responsibility to disclose Stefano’s last request and read the will. He glanced over the three seated before him making a note of those not present. Dario straightened in his chair and cleared his throat signaling the meeting was to commence.

I thank you for coming today. It is a sad occasion and I share your grief as he was a lifelong friend. You are aware that Stefano was in the process of selling his holdings as his illness became more serious. There were setbacks in this process with the final results being he settled for a lesser price in order for all contracts to be signed and finalized while his health allowed him to be involved. At the conclusion of this sale, Stefano met with me to discuss modifications to his will. I will now read his requests as stated in his last will and testament signed, attested, and notarized over two months ago.

Dario began reading the bequests Stefano had willed to his most trusted employees and managers who had been instrumental to his success over the years. Special mention was made of Fredrick Sultana his long-time friend and faithful manager. He was left one million dollars.

Petra Moretti, Stefano’s adopted daughter received a trust that was to pay for her medical upkeep until the time of her death.

Sandra Moretti received the house, cars, and personal effects as well as $200,000 per year with increases due to cost of living for the remainder of her life.

Joeph Moretti was the recipient of the remainder of the $350,000,000 fortune.

The three glared at Dario not speaking. Matteo, face flushed, stood, and waved his arms about to speak when Dario spoke with an edge to his voice.

Sit down Matteo! I discussed this will at length with your father. This is what he wanted. He did not say why. You can see it has been attested by a doctor and another lawyer that Stefano was in a satisfactory mental state. Again I say I was only following his wishes.

Fuck his wishes! We’re his sons and we got nothing. Not a fucking dime. We’ll contest this you can bet your ass. I ...

Dario cut him short. Matteo, you can do whatever you think is right. However I will advise you to save your money. Stefano has set aside funds to fight anyone who contests the will. He did not include me in his thought process. He only left instructions as to what he wanted in the event of anyone who contests the will in any part.

There is no more to be said here. We will consider this and get back to you. Thank you Dario. Sandra motioned for her sons to follow her. They left the office grumbling among themselves. 

That miserable son of a bitch. How can he not leave us a cent and give the money to Joey who is only a cousin and did not even show up for the funeral or be here today. What are we going to do about it?

You can bet your ass we are going to do something Renzo, was Matteo’s reply.

Not now boys. Not now. We will talk when we get home, said Sandra.

Chapter 2

The large brownstone on the upper east side had been Sandra’s home since she and Stefano had become serious less than a month after meeting. Sandra Burke was of Irish American descent. Her father was an Irish alcoholic who worked some and drank more. He handed part of his pay over to his wife and was scarcely seen till the next payday. This situation suited Sandra and her mother. They lived in a small apartment in the Bronx. Jessica, Sandra’s mother, Jess as she was known, was of German American heritage, worked part time in a café with plans to open a coffee shop in the future.

Sandra was not pretty, although she was attractive. A warm smile and outgoing personality made her popular with her school friends. She was 5’6" with an average build. Her breasts were slightly out of proportion, which attracted the boys. Sandra went to school performing well in all subjects with plans to get a scholarship or at least go to the community college. Plans are only intentions. Plans can change or come tumbling down like a sudden shower on a sunny day.

On an early July morning, only weeks after Sandra graduated from high school, the police were knocking at the door with the sad news that Finn Burke had been run over by a truck. It had happened at around 3 am. The truck driver tested had no alcohol in his body. He admitted he had not seen Burke who suddenly appeared. Burke tested with an alcohol reading closer to being embalmed than drunk. It was not that he was missed as much as there was no insurance and no further income. A decision was made that Sandra would have to postpone her school plans and find a job. She was hired as a receptionist in a real estate office. She liked the work and her employers like Sandra. In her mind it was only temporary. College was still her goal.

Two months later in September her mother was diagnosed with cancer and died before Christmas. Sandra was eighteen, alone, and essentially without money. Her income would barely make the rent. A lesser person could have given up. Sandra made a deal with the landlord to get a month free, quit her job and went looking for work that paid more. With a mindset never wavering from her goal of a higher education, Sandra decided to do whatever was necessary.

The sleezy man with a moustache, loud suit, and dirty fingernails, looked her over from behind his desk.

It’s like this darling. If your nice to the customers, they are nice to you. Most of the ladies here make at least a hundred a shift. Then again it’s up to you.

I’ll take it. When can I start?

Just a couple of things first. I need to see that you are eighteen. No false id! And since it’s topless dancing you need to show me your breasts.

Now, asked Sandra timidly.

It’s a suitable time as any if you want to start tomorrow. Pull them out.

Sandra stared the man down while opening her blouse, removing her bra, and straightening her back.

The man stood up with a lecherous grin on his face. They will do fine darling. Be here tomorrow at 8 pm.

Sandra took the subway back to the Bronx saying out loud to herself, ‘I can do this. I can do this because I have no choice. I can do it but not forever.’

Her breasts were the attraction. The more she moved the more they attracted the clients, who proceeded to stick money into her bikini bottom. The first week working a six-hour shift and sometimes longer had her taking home over a thousand dollars which was big money to her. She could pay the rent, afford to eat, and even save. She also enrolled in school courses. Life could be worse.

The second month her life improved. She met Stefano. Stefano was steered into the joint with some of the people who worked for him. He was not one to visit this sort of bar or spend time chasing women. Stefano’s one passion was to be successful. It was not for the money or the power. He honestly like to create things that became a success. To do this he had little time for socializing.

Five of them were seated by the stage where Sandra danced. While the others shouted encouragement, Stefano was mesmerized by her breasts. They shifted as her body moved. The nipples were erect and always pointing skyward. Stefano figured they had to be fake and strained to see any surgical marks that would confirm his suspicions. In the dim light there was no way to be sure. He got up and went to the bar buying a round for his associates and ask the barman to pass his card to the dancer he pointed out next to his table. A $50 tip insured the transaction.

Sandra was leaving after her shift when the barman gave her Stefano’s card. She put it in her purse and did not look at it until she was on the subway. One side was the name of the company Moretti Investments with Stefano Moretti as CEO. The other side in neat handwriting read, ‘Please call me tomorrow to meet for coffee. I await your call.’ It was signed ‘Stefano.’ She had men trying to hit on her everyday making their intentions clear as to what they wanted. This was different. Maybe it was a job. Maybe he was a pervert. She had seen signs on construction sites saying Moretti. Sandra put the card in her bag thinking a call is only ten cents.

Stefano stood up and held her chair. He asked what she would like and ordered their coffee. She noticed he was wearing a tailored suit and expensive shoes. He was well groomed and smiled while exchanging names.

I’ll get right to the point. I don’t go out much. I hardly ever date. I guess I’m what you would say is a workaholic. Some of the boys I work with dragged me to the bar the other night. I could not help but to notice you. Stefano stopped knowing it had not come out as he intended.

Sandra laughed saying, I hope you did. It’s my job.

What I meant to say was I was interested to ask you why you were a dancer. Something told me there was far more to you than was evident. 

I don’t think you are here to hear my story.

Oh, but I am. Please tell me. 

Sandra looked into his eyes to see if he was serious. He gave nothing away. She related her hopes of college before both her father and mother passed away. Now she was dancing to pay the rent.

I lost my father recently so I know sadness but cannot imagine what you have been through. You have my sincere condolences.

From there they spoke of their dreams and plans. Both felt comfortable like they were friends who had met long ago and were catching up.

I must get back to the office. I would like to invite you to dinner on Friday. Would you accept my invitation?

Yes, Mr. Moretti I will.

Fine. Please call me Stefano. If you give me your number I‘ll call and confirm before then.

The dinner was an enormous success. Conversation flowed, the food outstanding. At the end of the evening, Stefano kissed her on the cheek, before putting her in