𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟗 ™

June 1, 1950

5:35 pm

Teresa Anello

𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐲. Black and white televisions were a thing of the past now, segregation was alive and at an all-time high, and the mafia was at its peak of success. The working man was out of style, and thieves and con artists were the real heroes of their time.

It was fast money or no money in the cruel streets of the Bronx. If you didn't get with the program, you were chewed up and spit out just like the rest of the fallen shoulders that felt the wrath of her iron jaws. You didn't earn your respect anymore like a chump; you took it by any means necessary.

Nine years old Teresa skipped down the stairs happily, a crooked smile adorned her sunkissed face completing her rosy cheeks. Dark brown curls bounced as she reached the last step spotting her friends. They were two trouble makers in the neighborhood known for causing mischief.

Teresa would never partake in the acts because she knew better. Her parents always had a tight grip on the girl, teaching her right from wrong; they didn't want her to end up like the typical kid in their neighborhood. A thief, a gangster, or a whore.

"Hey, fellas, what yall up to today?" she said in a thick Italian accent hugging the two girls. Her eyes instantly, zoning in on the rectangular shape in one of the girl's pockets. "I swiped some cigarettes from my dad, " slick gave a Chesire grin.

"The old man just left them right in the open; I had to take them," she placed a cigarette between her thin lips, grabbing the expensive Ronson lighter. The tan end of the stick enlightened in flames allowing her to take a pull from the cigarette, the deadly nicotine invading her lungs.

Slim was only a year older than Teresa, living just a few buildings down from her. There was nothing special about the girl, except for the excessive amount of hair gel she used on her ponytail, so the name just stuck.

Italian nicknames were never clever; they usually say the first thing that comes to mind, and if the names stick, then hey, you won yourself a free nickname. Teresa still hasn't gotten a name like the others. What the hell kind of name is Teresa?

"Aye, what the fuck you doing? are you trying to get caught, you fucking idiot," fats scolded, cussing up a storm. She smacked the taller girl upside the head before throwing the cigarette on the floor and stomping on it.

Fats was, well, fat. It was a cruel nickname, but it described the cubby girl perfectly. She was known for swiping fruits from the produce stand and sticking her chubby fingers in her mother's sauce.

"Come on, fats lighten up a bit, will ya," she rubbed the burning spot on her head to soothe the pain. "Those extra large panties must be in a twist," she mumbled so the girl wouldn't hear.

"What the fuck did you say," fats yelled, lunging at the girl. They both fell to the concrete with a thud, beginning to wrestle on the sidewalk. Teresa sighed, taking a seat on the steps of her building, her head lazily resting in her hands as she watched the two go at it.

After what felt like hours had passed of the girls fighting, Teresa lifted herself off the stairs walking in the direction of the local bar. The establishment belongs to the mob. If a crime or celebration happened involving the mafia, then it was more than likely planned in this very spot.

Teresa would frequently sneak into the bar and watched the men for hours on end, enthralled with everything the men did. She always had a fascination for the men in the mafia; they practically ran the whole city. They did what they want whenever they want.

And no one could get in their way, not even in the police force. They had already paid off most of the workers and had a few men working for them. And for the ones they couldn't bribe had a mutual understanding to stay out of each other's way.

Teresa snuck in the back entrance, the smell of alcohol and cologne instantly invading her nostrils. The bar was loud and lively, filled to the brim; you could barely see the floor due to the flood of people.

"Heya kid, I see you snuck away from your old man again, " big Paulie laughed, taking a puff from his cigar that was almost the size of a shotgun barrel. He ruffled her thick head of curls, heading to the back of the bar.

Paulie was one of the guys that helped run the joint. He wasn't apart of the mob, just one of their many allies. He brought in money, and they gave him protection.

Teresa snuck past the sea of people, making her way to the coat closet. She loved watching them from there because it gave her a clear view of the whole bar due to the gunshot holes in the door. They were like her personal binoculars.

After hours of watching the criminals curse like sailors and gamble their mortgages away, the man of the hour stepped into the establishment. Teresa's breath hitched as she stared at the man in awe.

He was everything she wanted to be and more, from the perfectly tailored suit down to the expensive dress shoes that adorned his feet. He was like a giant towering over the other civilians, looking down at them with menacing eyes, only adding to his intimidating aura.

This man was Sonny LoSpecchio.

He was the leader of the crime family. If anything goes down involving the mob, it goes through him first. He was the mastermind behind this whole organization. He knew everything about everyone; you couldn't get shit past him without a bullet through your head.

Some kids might want the be astronauts or doctors when they grow up, but Teresa wanted to be just like Sonny.

"There the hell you are, do you know how long I've been looking for you god damn it, " her mother yanked her out the closet, dragging her by her earlobe.

The sun had set hours ago completely, slipping the girl's mind. It's been past her curfew over three hours ago, and her parents had been ripping apart the neighborhood to find her.

"OW! it was an accident, okay? Can you please let my ear go? " Teresa cried. Miss Anello continued her rant, dragging the child up the stairs. When her mother was angry, there was no stopping her. She had the strength of a thousand soldiers.

"You're crazy it's not even; that big of a deal, " Teresa groaned.

Her mother's steps came to a halt midway up the stairs. "Ma, are you-" Miss Anello turned, striking the girl across the face. "What the fuck did I tell you about going in that damn bar Teresa, do I have to beat it out of you?" she raised her voice.

Teresa stayed silent.

"DO I? TALK GOD DAMN IT I KNOW YOU CAN, " she frantically shook the girl's shoulders, her teeth gritted and eyes furrowed. She was fuming, all she needed was a pair of horns, and you got yourself a replica of Lucifer.

The shaking stopped when she heard her child cry from underneath her. "Just... Just go in the house, well talk about this later, " she sighed, watching the crying girl scurry up the stairs and shut the door.

che diavolo devo fare con quella ragazza?

(What the hell am I going to do with that girl?)

I'm sorry the ending was kind of boring I didn't know how I wanted to wrap up the chapter. Also, I wanted to ask you guys could you give me more feedback, please? When you don't comment or vote I lose a lot of motivation to write. I feel like I'm just talking to myself half the time.

It's like 12:00 am I'll edit tomorrow chile I'm tired