Take Down

By Amin Suluki

Some may say that the Italian Mafia no longer exists or that they do but lost their power and influence since the take down of the Dapper Don, John Gotti. But if you were to ask Jahmeel, a New Yorker from the heart of New York City, or Billy Joe, a half-Italian country boy from the backwoods of Alabama, they will tell you that those statements are far from the truth. In fact, they would tell you that not only does the Mafia still exists, but they also are more powerful now than ever before. So will Jahmeel and Billy Joe, both of whom suffered tremendously at the hands of the Mafia and who experienced a clash of cultures upon meeting each other, be able to hash out their differences to take down this common enemy? Or is it an impossible task? Join in as millions of readers pry into the mind of Amin Suluki, author of Right Back at You, to unveil the existence of an Italian crime family still operating in America today.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 29, 2017
• ISBN: 9781546221371

Amin Suluki

Amin Suluki was born in Atlanta Georgia but grew up for the most part in New Jersey. He has also spent a good part of his adult life in North Carolina. Besides Take Down, he has authored the book, Right Back At You and has plans to release several more novels in the near future. You can contact him through his facebook page under the name Hanif Bro, or Amin Suluki. Or just email him your comments at [e-mail]

Book preview

© 2018 Amin Suluki. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 03/09/2018

ISBN: 978-1-5462-2136-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-2137-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017919106

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

About the Author

Chapter 1

Routinely, like every Sunday morning at seven, Sarah awoke to the sound of the bedroom alarm clock playing her husband’s favorite good ‘ol southern Alabama country music Wiping the coal out of her eye with one hand, she reached over to awaken Billy Joe, her insensitive outspoken husband of thirty seven years now. The loud outburst of music from the alarm clock wasn’t loud enough to wake Billy Joe. He could sleep through a storm. In fact, his snoring was probably louder than the alarm clock. That was one of these things Sarah hated about him and the thing which kept them sleeping in separate rooms at the beginning of their marriage. But with the help of earplugs to drown the sound out a bit, Sarah grew used to it over the years.

Come on Billy! It’s time to get ready,Sarah said, reaching over and shaking her husband as hard as she could. She rolled out of bed and stood up.

Huh, yeah yeah. Alright, He said, opening his eyes and closing them back.

"Oh, no you don’t! Last week you promised me you would come this week.

It’s been almost five months now since the last time you’ve been to church. You’re coming this week. Now get up", Sarah said, grabbing her pillow and hitting him with it.

Alright, alright, Billy Joe said. He moved the pillow from his face and looked up at his wife.

Well, I’m not moving until I see you get up, Sarah said.

Alright, alright,Billy Joe pulled the blanket down slowly from his chest and then off of his round belly. Sitting up on his side of the bed, he tried hard to shake off the sleep. Saturday nights were his roughest nights and getting out of bed before twelve o’clock just wasn’t his thing. He knew he had to come up with some kind of an excuse to give his wife although not going to church on Sunday is what keeps his wife mad at him. Last week was the first time they’d been intimate in four months and the only reason for that was because he’d promised to attend church this week. But those were just words. Billy Joe didn’t intend on going anyplace that even started with a C. Church just didn’t mix in with the secrets he’d been keeping for over thirty-five years now. The secrets that constantly grew on his conscience like a bad tumor. But that was, as Billy Joe put it, A part of life and something he had to deal with.

As her husband sat on the edge of the bed, Sarah felt comfortable or as if she had him for sure this week. She smiled and made her way towards the bedroom bathroom.

I had Sanchez lay out your pretty blue suit with the cowboy hat and alligator boots. She’s going to start breakfast around seven-thirty. Just give me about forty-five minutes and I’ll be ready, Sarah said, walking into her bathroom and closing the door. That’s exactly what it is too, her bathroom. Billy Joe was banned from going in there and had to use the bathroom down the hall. His wife told him that the strong smell his defecation left was just unbearable. However, Billy Joe didn’t care. He didn’t really like going into her bathroom anyway, it was too feminine in his opinion. Just about everything inside of it, down to the toilet paper, was pink and purple. No place for a man to be, even for a second. His bathroom down the hall was mostly black, with shiny black and white marble floors. It had one of the most expensive Jacuzzis ever made. Sanchez, the maid, kept a fresh cigar in the ashtray sitting on the bathroom counter on-top of the day’s paper. So that was Billy Joe’s domain. There he didn’t have to worry about anybody complaining about the smell of his bowels or his long Cuban cigars. In fact, the only problem he had with being banned from his wife’s bathroom was the long walk down the hall in the middle of the night to urinate.

Billy Joe Booze and Sarah Lee Booze, two complete opposites. Sarah, a school teacher, had been teaching for over thirty years now. Billy Joe had been a wealthy man ever since she married him thirty-seven years ago. Since then, Sarah didn’t have to work, but did so because she loves kids and her job as an eighth-grade teacher. However, Sarah wouldn’t teach at just any school. She loves teaching in lower income areas. Areas commonly known as ghettos or slums. She had been teaching at the same school for the last twenty years of her thirty-three-year career. The same school she attended when she was young. The school has changed since then. When she attended it was still a low-income area but was predominately white, unlike now, being predominately black and Hispanic. Back in her day, the whites there were considered poor white trash and lived in trailers. Even though Sarah was poor and grew up in a trailer, she never saw herself as poor white trash. She was determined to make it, even though at twenty success was sort of handed to her when she married into the Booze family.

Sarah was an outstanding teacher and was offered jobs several times to teach at some of the biggest and wealthiest private schools in the state. But she turned them all down. She was determined to help and inspire poor kids who had nothing going for them and a lot against them. And she had. Many so called ghetto and poor white trash students became very successful in life as a result of her inspiration. So that made Sarah very happy about her life.

Billy Joe on the other hand, wasn’t too happy with his life. In fact, if it wasn’t for his wife Sarah and their daughter Jessie, he would probably have committed suicide years ago. That’s how bad his secrets were killing him.

Billy Joe’s grandfather started a brewing factory in 1917 that, due to the law, was closed down in 1919 but then re-opened again in 1933. When his grandfather died, he passed the business on to his only son Joe, Billy Joe’s father.

Billy Joe was named after his father who was a racist and an atheist. However, his racism was only limited to blacks for some reason because he married an Italian, unknowingly marrying into the mafia. So, Billy Joe was born half Italian but hated his Italian bloodline. It was the cause of all his grief. It was part of the secret he kept from his wife and was fairly easy because looking at him you couldn’t tell he was Italian. Billy Joe looked like your average southern Alabaman, cigar smoking, cowboy hat wearing hillbilly.

After Billy Joe’s father took over what his grandfather had started, the business began to flourish. The company was named Booze, after his grandfather, and produced a beer called Booze House which was widely known in the south. Within years of his father taking over, it turned into a multi-million-dollar business opening up several factories and shipping booze house beer all across the south. Due to its’ quick fame and success, it attracted some unwanted attention. The attention of a small but deadly mafia crime family. The family that Billy Joe’s mother belonged to. By the time Billy Joe’s father realized who he had married, it was too late. His wife’s family had forcefully but legally taken over half of his business. There was nothing he could do. Divorcing her would give her half of what he had left and that wasn’t wise for a business man. They also had a son together, Billy Joe, so reluctantly he remained married to her. But the problems didn’t stop there. The business grew, Booze House was now being shipped all over the U.S. and this sudden boom made Billy Joe’s mother’s small crime family well known in the underground world. They drew the attention of a bigger and deadlier crime family known as the Divittii’s. The Divittii’s crept into the business piece by piece. Once in, they wiped out most of Billy Joe’s mother’s side of the family and took control of their fifty percent of the business. However, the Divittii’s didn’t stop there, they wanted more. And when Billy Joe’s parents didn’t comply with the rules, they were both driven off a cliff. It just so happened to be the same day Billy Joe’s only son had been visiting with his grandparents. That was part of the secret he kept hidden from his wife, that his parents and their son didn’t die in an accident, they were murdered by the mafia. But who knew the mafia even existed in states like Alabama. Billy Joe did.

What in dee hell! Billy Joe screamed, waking up to what felt like a bucket of cold ice water being poured over his face. Fear suddenly struck him. Not the mafia he thought. "Or could it be? That’s how they move. Sneak up and surround you while you’re sleep. This was Divittii style too. Wake you up so you could see who was sending you to your maker. But why would they want to wack me?

Everything is straight on my end of the business." Billy Joe thought. When the water stopped pouring, Billy Joe wiped his face with his hands and then opened his eyes. A sigh of relief came over his face. It was Sarah dressed in her church clothes and holding an empty orange water cooler.

Damn it Billy, you liar! It’s ten minutes to eight and you haven’t even gotten out of bed yet, Sarah said, furious.

I… I… My head was throbbing really bad honey I think my blood pressure is up. I’m not going to be able to make it. I’ll go next week I promise, Billy Joe said. Sarah let out a breath of frustration, dropped the cooler on his stomach and stormed out of the room slamming the door behind her.

Billy Joe laid there for a few seconds soaking wet. Damn. Not only did she fill the cooler with water she put ice in it too, Billy Joe thought, looking at all of the ice cubes lying on the bed. He got up shivering, making his way to the closet to dry off and put on his robe. The ice water had him wide awake now, no more sleep. His stomach began to talk to him, but he knew he couldn’t go downstairs for another fifteen to twenty minutes. Not until Sarah finished eating and left for church.

He sat down on his lazy boy, turned on the TV. and flipped through the channels. Stopping at an old western, his eyes looked on, but his thoughts were somewhere else. He thought about his fantasy, his dream. However, Billy Joe’s fantasies and dreams were not like other peoples. Most people fantasize about women they can’t get or money they don’t have. But not Billy Joe. He fantasized about living to see the day when the Divitii crime family would be put behind bars and sentenced to life or death. Preferably the latter. He fantasized about the day when all of his grief would finally end, and his fears would be over. The day when he could finally retire from Booze House and close it down like his wife begs him to. But he couldn’t retire now. Not while the Divittii’s owned half of the company. In that case, his half would go to the Divittii’s. If that happens, not only would they have taken the lives of his son and his parents, but would also take complete control over a company his grandfather and father worked had to start up and turn into what it is now, the third largest beer company in the country. Billy Joe couldn’t let them do that. He had to fight and somehow bring them down. That’s what his father and grandfather would have wanted him to do, and he was. Well, sort of.

Ever since his family’s murder, Billy Joe had been compiling incriminating evidence against the Divittiis. He had everything from planned murders on tape, down to evidence of tax evasion and drug dealing. He kept it all stored out of town in a storage garage place he bought years ago under a fake name. But Billy Joe knew the evidence he had was nothing. The Divittii family was too strong, too powerful. They had connections in every state they did dirt in. Deep connections. I’m talking judges, lawyers, prosecutors, police officers, the whole nine yards. Paul Divittii, the head of the Divittii crime family, had been on trial for dozens of murders over the years and has not spent one day in prison. But despite all of that, Billy Joe was still going to hold on to his dream of one day bringing them down. And there’s nothing wrong with dreaming. People dream of things that will never happen in real life. And deep down, Billy Joe knew that’s all it was. A dream.

The sound of the garage door opening and closing quickly brought Billy Joe back to reality. As he looked out the bedroom window, he saw his wife’s black Mercedes making its way down the long driveway; He looked at his Rolex which read twenty-five after eight.

Well it’s about time, Billy Joe said in a low voice, rubbing his stomach. He had been too drunk to eat dinner last night so this morning he was extra hungry. Billy Joe made his way out of the bedroom, to the staircase and down the spiral steps cursing them as he went down.

I gotta get me a damn elevator in here, I’m getting too old for this. He murmured. The smell of Sanchez’s cooking quickly took his mind off of the tiring steps.

Que pasa Sanchezio. What ya got in here for me this morning. Billy Joe shouted, walking into the kitchen.

Sit down, sit down, I be with you in a minute. Sanchez said, putting his food in the oven.

Yeah, yea yea. Billy Joe said. He sat down at the table and opened up the day’s paper.

So, Mr. Booze. How was your cold shower dis morning? Hee, Hee Hee., Mrs. Sanchez said laughing.

Ha, Ha, Ha funny. And it’s no way Sarah could have carried that ice cooler all the way up those stairs by herself full of ice and water. I Know you was in on it. You just make sure you hee, hee, hee up there and change those sheets. I flipped the mattress over for you already.

You better start going to church. Or next time I’m gone put it in the freezer twenty or thirty minutes before she dump it on you. Mrs. Sanchez said, interrupted by the telephone. Billy Joe frowned and lifted the paper back to his face.

Hello, Booze residence. Mrs. Sanchez said, answering the phone with her Spanish accent after the second ring. She smiled and started speaking in Spanish, a language which Billy Joe’s wife and daughter had learned over the years from Sanchez and her deceased husband, but which Billy Joe could never learn. He didn’t have the time. Too preoccupied with business and the Divittii’s. He did however, pick up on a few words here and there, but they weren’t sufficient enough to hold a conversation or listen to one. Especially not as fast as Mrs. Sanchez spoke.

As Mrs. Sanchez spoke away, Billy Joe did understand one word and that was Jessie, the name of his daughter. He sat his newspaper on the table and looked up. After a minute or so of speaking in her native tongue, Mrs. Sanchez brought him the phone.

It’s you daughter Jessie. Sanchez said.

Hello! Jessie where in the world have you been? Me and your mother have been calling and trying to get in contact with you for a month now. Last week your roommate told us that you moved but didn’t get your phone turned on yet… Billy Joe said, stopping to listen to what his daughter had to say.

Well what about your cell phone? Why didn’t you call us and tell us something? He paused once again for the answer.

Jessie, you know your mother worries about you. It’s bad enough that you’re going to school hundreds of miles away in New York. And you know she hasn’t seen you in over a year now. You almost caused her to have a heart attack…

Oh yeah, when is your graduation date? We need to know so we can go ahead and schedule our flight…

What! What do you mean you’ve graduated already?…

Oh my G… Jessie how in the hell do you mix up a graduation date? Billy Joe asked, shocked and upset upon hearing that he missed the chance to see his only child graduate from college. Billy Joe had never been to college, nor had his father. Didn’t need to. People attend college to learn skills for future careers, but Billy Joe’s career had been laid out for him before he was born.

Damn it Jessie, your mother is going to fly through the roof when she hears this…

I am calm. And you don’t be telling me to calm down. This is a very serious thing. Your mother and I were looking forward to your graduation…

No, she’s not here. She went to church. But you need to call her on her cell phone as soon as you hang up, she’s sort of fired up at me because I didn’t go to church…

Yeah she dumped a whole cooler of ice water on me while I was sleep…

Oh be quiet, that’s not funny. You know I don’t do the church thing much. The preacher’s daughter died last year from a drunk driving accident and the last couple of times I went I noticed him looking at me funny like I was the cause. All of them be looking at me funny in there. But the strange thing is that I know almost all of them drink a little beer or wine occasionally. Hell the bible even says you can drink a little wine. I know because my secretary showed it to me last month. But yet they all want to point the finger at me like I’m the bad guy because I sell it. God damn hypocrites. Anyway, you go and call your mother. I’m letting you know ahead of time that she’s not going to be happy so don’t be surprised. When are you coming home anyway?… Billy Joe asked.

In two days! What, Tuesday?

Who?

Oh hell, you done found you a damn Yankee. Well what does he do?

OH. He better be a damn good lawyer if he’s coming to my house…

Yeah I’ll see you when you get here…

Alright. Call your mom Jessie…

Okay. I love you too. Billy Joe said, hanging up the phone.

As Mrs. Sanchez sat breakfast down on the table, Billy Joe looked at it with disappointment. Two egg omelets without the yoke, wheat toast, low-fat jelly, a side plate of carrots, bran flake cereal with no sugar and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.

What the hell is this? Billy Joe blurted out in disbelief.

It’s your new diet. Mrs. Booze said starting today you go on diet. Mrs. Sanchez said.

No, uh uh, I’m not eating this. Where’s the pancakes and bacon I smelled on my way down the stairs? Billy Joe asked.

That was for me and Mrs. Booze. Mrs. Sanchez said.

Well how the hell yall get that and I get this! Billy Joe yelled.

Because we no fat like you! Mrs. Sanchez shot back.

Listen, I pay you to cook me what I want. Now cook me some bacon and pancakes. Billy Joe demanded.

Mrs. Booze pays me and you know she’s the boss around here. If she say put you on diet then you go on diet. If you don’t like, then you go cook you self. But I don’t have time to sit and argue you. I have work to do. Mrs. Sanchez said, walking out of the kitchen and cursing Billy Joe in Spanish.

Mrs. Sanchez always argued with Billy Joe because Billy Joe always argued with her. That was the type of relationship they acquired over the years. She was more like a step mother than a maid. She’d been with the Booze family for thirty years now. Her and her husband, Mr. Sanchez, began working together but he passed away eight years ago so now Mrs. Sanchez handles the work load by herself. She’s an excellent worker but is getting old and it probably won’t be too long before her old bones can’t handle it anymore. She would probably retire as one of the richest maids ever. She has been living out back in the guest house rent free for the past thirty years and the Booze’s pay her extra good. It wouldn’t be surprising if she had over a half million dollars cash put away. Even though Sanchez was a maid, she had it made.

Billy Joe made a sandwich out of the wheat toast, egg omelets and low-fat jelly. There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t cook a lick and was too hungry to drive out to eat. He just put the sandwich to his mouth, frowning and shaking his head as he said, Damn women.

Chapter 2

New York

After completing their evening prayers, Salimah turned to her husband Jameel, staring at him. Even though they’ve only been married for a year now, Jameel knew his wife very good. He knew when something was on her mind. Her face told him so. She had, as he called it, the face of many expressions.

What’s wrong Salimah dearest? Jameel asked.

Nothing really. I talked to my parents earlier while you were sleeping. Salimah said.

Oh yeah? Did you tell them we are going to be flying down Tuesday?

Yup.

What did they say?

Nothing about that. I told you that us going down there is not the problem. They were just mad that I didn’t tell them the right graduation date.

"Well I told you