CHAPTER ONE

YEARS EARLIER

The familiar sound of their father’s Cadillac Coupe de Ville and they ran out of the house as if they were running a race. Which one to the car first, was the unspoken rule. Donald, though younger than his brother Bobby, always got there first. But however they got there, Charles “Big Daddy” Sinatra was always pleased to see his bright-eyed, beautiful, teenage boys.

“Hey Daddy,” Donald Sinatra said cheerfully as he opened his father’s car door. Charles had on shades which made him look so cool to his impressionable sons. “I’m faster than Bobby and he’s on the track team.”

“Then why don’t you get on the track team too?” Charles asked as he grabbed his briefcase and began getting out of the car.

“Because he’s not faster than me on the track,” said the more athletic Bobby Sinatra. “Running out of a house is in no way equivalent to running in a track meet.”

“I don’t wanna be an official jock,” said Donald. “But if I was, I could outrun you all day long. On or off the track.”

“You say.”

“That’s right I say.”

“That’s enough,” Charles said firmly as he closed his car door. They knew then to cut it out. “You boys were good today?”

“Yes sir,” said Bobby loudly as he took his father’s briefcase to carry for him.

“He’s lying, Daddy,” said Donald. They were walking just behind their father as they all made their way toward the front entrance of their suburban home. “He skipped third period today.”

“I did not,” Bobby quickly responded before his father could say a word.

“You did too. I saw you with my own two eyes.”

Charles didn’t stop walking, but he looked back at Bobby with a look that made clear he had better not lie to him. “Did you?”

Bobby didn’t want to admit it, but he had enough experience to know that his father could tell when he was lying. Somehow, he could sniff it out. “We just hung out on the basketball courts for one period, that’s all,” he said.

Charles turned around and angrily backslapped him upside his head, causing the young man’s full head of hair to sling sideways. Charles was a single parent raising four boys, and every one of them were going to be men of honor and responsibility even if he had to beat it into them. “Skip class again and I’ll kick your ass, you hear me, Robert Sinatra?”

Bobby was holding his ear, which seemed to have gotten the brunt of the hit. “It was just for one period.”

“I don’t care if it was just for one minute!” Charles yelled back at him. “I’m not sending you to that school to cut class. I’m sending you there to get an education. That’s your job and you’re going to do your job. You’d better cut that skipping school shit out or I’ll cut it out for you.”

Bobby knew his father didn’t play. He quickly nodded his head. “Yes sir,” he said with equal degrees of sorrow and anger.

When Donald looked back at his brother, he regretted snitching because he should have known their father would not have taken it lightly. But Bobby balled up his fist at him. You just wait was the look on his pretty face as they entered their home and followed their father across the living room and into the kitchen. You just wait !

“I passed my math test today,” said Donald, hurrying away from his older brother.

“What do you mean you passed it?” Charles made his way to the frig as his boys sat in stools at the peninsular in their kitchen. “Passed it with what?”

“I made a C, but I hate that class.”

“That’s no reason to flunk the class.” Charles lifted his sunglasses off of his face and slid them on top of his head as he pulled out a cold beer.

“I didn’t flunk. How am I flunking it? I passed it.”

“To Daddy a C is nothing,” said Bobby. “To me too.”

“Damn right it’s nothing,” Charles said as he chugged down beer. “They give you a C for showing up.”

“It takes all I have within me to show up to that lady’s class. No lie. She’s vicious, Daddy.”

Bobby laughed. “Punk. Scared of an old lady math teacher.”

“At least I don’t skip school.”

“I don’t skip school either. It was one period, and you know it. And stop bringing that up!”

“Where’s Brent and Tony?” Charles asked.

“I’ll bring up whatever I wanna bring up,” Donald replied to his brother. “They’re with Uncle Mick,” he replied to his father.

Charles was about to take another gulp of his can of beer when he stopped just as the can was about to touch his lips. “They’re with who?”

“Uncle Mick. They’re with Uncle Mick. He’s in town.”

Charles, astounded, sat his can of beer on the countertop. “What are they doing with him?”

“They were talking about tattoos, so Uncle Mick said let’s go. And they went.”

Charles frowned.“Tattoos?”

“Yes sir. It’s no big deal. All the kids are getting some. Brent wouldn’t let Bobby and me go though. He said we were too young.”

Charles rushed around the peninsular and hurried toward the front door.

“Daddy, what’s wrong?” Bobby and Donald hurried behind their father. “It’s just a tattoo,” Bobby added.

But Charles didn’t answer him. He practically ran out of that door.