I'm Sal the Soft Boiled Mobster

By Michael Polillo

Sal Corbucci makes a deal with an Irish Boxer. In September of 1990, retired boxer Patrick "The Lobster" Grady will pay back double what he owes the mobster, Sal Corbucci, if Sal can find his missing daughter. Sal has some issues of his own. His wife has him sleeping on the couch for cheating on her and his children seem to be growing distant with each day. Now Sal has to save the Lobster's daughter while trying to save his family life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Polillo
• Release date: Sep 3, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393853992

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Brixton, New Jersey. It's a growing town just outside Philly and plenty far away from New York trash. It's the best place in the world to get a slice of pizza. And my cousins in Philly will be pissed to hear me say this, but we have better cheesesteaks here too. Brixton is the only place I've ever really known. Course my family comes from Sicily and yes, I know what that means. I've been hearing it my entire life. Coming from parents who were FOB does that to a kid. My name is Salvatore Sal Corbucci. My birthday is March 8th, 1948. I'm 42 years old, balding and I'm an enforcer.

I drive a black Lexus LS400. She's probably the best thing I have in my life. Unless you're one of those sappy types that thinks kids are everything. If you are then you've probably never driven a less than a year old Lexus.

A car I selected for its smooth ride. The LS400 is a luxury vehicle which means its reliable. Dependability and stability is valuable to me. It's important to have something in your life that you can count on. Even if that thing is a sedan. It's nice to know your car won't give up on you.

My hand instinctively checks to make sure my Colt 1911 is still in place under my beige suit jacket. Not that I've had to use it in ten years. And that was the first time I had to fire since the war. God bless.

My legs stride me towards the door. My destination only a few feet away, Lucas' bar. I seem to do a lot of walking and yet my doc is telling me to lose ten pounds. Telling me it's hard to stay in shape as I get older when he's the one that seems to be packing on the pounds. Fuckin' asshole.

Inside is your typical east coast bar. Not too well lit, but this causes you to take in the alcohol and surroundings. You really need to peel back the layers of the place to get a better understanding. Does that make sense or is that just bullshit? There's character here. Couple of pool tables, an old pinball machine that no one uses, the bar itself, stools, and a few tables that people don't ever seem to eat at.

I walk up to the bar and the bartender, Jack, hands me a beer. I place it back on the bar. The man I'm looking for is beyond the bar.

I'm sorry, I forgot. You still not at it? said Jack.

Yep, I said.

He's in the backroom.

I head towards the backroom and I knock on the door.  A moment later a shout comes from within.

It's open.

Inside is Rolan Lucas. Brown hair, brown eyes. And that's nearly most of the people I encounter. Lot of brown hair and brown eyes. If my doc is saying I'm out of shape then Lucas here is full blown chubby. He's sitting at a desk and busy chatting away on the phone. He waves me in and I stand instead of sitting at one of the chairs in front of him.

Standing there, I give a little wave to him. Y'know as a kind gesture back for letting me in while he's taking a call.

Hey, I've got to go, said Lucas.

He hung up the phone and let out a hefty cough.

Been six months already? said Lucas.

Not paying attention to the leaves changing I see, I said.

Time flies these days.

How's the wife?

She's good. Looks like she's about to pop.

Know what it is yet?

Nah, I mean, I wanted to know, but she wants to keep it a surprise. She's always saying something like, it's one of the last few mysteries we get to have in life, some shit like that, said Lucas.

Yeah my wife was the same way with both of ours, not that I give that much of fuck as to knowing. But you'd think they'd want to know to help with clothes.

You don't seem to come in as much these days, said Lucas.

I'm paying you a visit right now, I said.

Don't fuck with me, you know what I mean, said Lucas.

What's wrong? Business tanking without me? This your way of saying you're a little light this drop?

I'm surviving, but it sure helped with you alone drinking enough in a week to cover the rent of the staff, said Lucas.

What staff? I only ever see you, Jack, and a couple of rotating girls you scare off.

It's real good to see you Sal.

I have been trying to lose a little weight, I said.

What? said Lucas.

I'm fucking with you, it's good to see you too Lucas. You know I miss this place, I said.

So why not come by more often?

I'll be here every few months.

I see how it is. Let's get to it then.

Lucas opens a drawer and takes out an envelope. The envelope looks like it's about to burst open with how full it is. Lucas tosses it to me and I stick it into my jacket pocket.

It's all there.

I believe you, I said.

Is that it then?

That's it, I said.

Lucas gets up from his desk and walks over to me.

How about you come out and have a beer? Or maybe a coke? said Lucas.

You know saying 'coke' shows you're not from around here, I said.

I've been here fifteen years, you think I give a fuck at this point? Do you want a drink or not?

I have a few minutes I could spare if you have Seagram's, I said.

We have Canada Dry.

That's fine with me.

Great. Come on out front and Jack will set us up.

Hold on, what time is it? I said.

Quarter to one. Ah shit, time flies. Yeah, she'll be here soon, said Lucas.

Yeah thought so. I better be headed out anyway, I said.

You haven't seen her since-

Nope, I said.

I headed towards the door when I heard Lucas yell.

Sal!

I turned around.

What?

Take care, said Lucas.

I walked out of the backroom, nodded to Jack the bartender and made my way back to my car.

CHAPTER 2

I pull up to a small building and I can see cousin Ciro standing outside smoking a cigarette. Ciro is the capo's main protection and he grew to be one of the tallest men I have ever seen. The boss doesn't go anywhere without him. Now this isn't our main headquarters or nothing. It's an old club we used to run. Now it's more of a safe house. Still I tend to be sitting comfy in there. Got a bathroom, TV, a couch. I even have a small kitchen there. Plus it has a back entrance to an alley for a quick getaway if need be. A real home away from home. So it's to my surprise that I see my cousin Ciro outside which means my uncle Dario Corbucci, the big capo himself has come to pay me a visit.

Ciro greets me and opens the door for me. I enter and he follows me inside.

At my small, but polished dining table sits Dario. He's old. Old enough to make me feel young. And he's thin too. Wiry as all fuck as he contorts himself to be comfortable in my chair. He's one of those old school goombahs. One where you feel greasy just by looking at him. He has himself a plate of lo mein in front of him which he proceeds to stuff in his face as he talks to me. Suppose when you reach his rank, manners flee entirely. Next to the plate of food sits my phone which looks to be recently used by him if going by the residue that appears to be covering it.

I know we had some deals go bad with 'em in the past, but I'll tell you one thing, these chinks make some damn good food, said Dario.

The fuck you doing here you dried up piece of shit?

Is that anyway to treat family? I've come all this way to visit and you sling profanities at me the first time you open that fat mouth of yours, said Dario.

Yeah, yeah pardon my speech, hold on a sec.

I'm talking to you here. Where the fuck do you think you're going? said Dario.

I need a little snack.

I don't think you need a little anything, said Dario.

I go into the kitchen, grab a tin of pistachios and rejoin him at the table. I start cracking them open and tossing them into my mouth.

"So please, go on,