by "mailto:RKteach@en.com"

The big man grabbed the boy by the shoulders as he had so many times before and sent him crashing into the wall. His head and shoulders hit first, but this time instead of waiting for the next blow, he let the anger take over, and he attacked. Downstairs and next door, neighbors turned up their TVs and raised their voices. They had heard the sounds and the cries for too many years to react any other way. Besides the big guy was a cop, so what were they going to do, report him to his buddies? There was no point, so they buried their heads in the sand as they had so many times before.

The teenaged boy was not very tall, maybe five foot six, and slight, but muscular. At sixteen he hadn't reached his full growth, but he was bigger than he had been, and years of street and playground fights had given him the moves and the punches to finally take on his stepfather. Deke was drunk as usual, and mean as usual, and brutally violent as usual, but this time the boy wasn't surrendering, he was fighting back with all the anger built up over eight years of pain and fear, with the need to react for once, the need to be free of the trap his mother had put him in by marrying this monster.

He felt a blow on his chest and another in his ribs, but he got in a few punches, and then he came out swinging, hitting Deke in the face, the chest, his big gut full of beer. He was wrapped in a red hot blaze of rage and all sound was blocked, Deke's screams, his mother's sobbing of his name over and over. He only knew she was doing this, because at one point he looked up and saw her mouth open and tears running down her face. He heard nothing, and he didn't want to hear anything except the beating of his own heart as he hit the monster over and over and over again. Suddenly the big drunken cop was lying on the floor unconscious, and as he realized this, the teenager stopped hitting him, and took a deep breath. As the intensity of his feelings diminished, he took inventory of his own injuries. This was a very familiar practice, and today he was pleased by the results. His chest hurt a little, he'd be bruised, but his collar bone and breast bone were OK. His back and shoulders hurt a lot, but this wasn't unusual, between being knocked into walls and old injuries, he expected his back and shoulders to be bruised, and to ache. It was rare when they didn't. His ribs felt bruised, but not broken and he knew the difference well. He felt a welt growing on his cheekbone and realized he would probably have a black eye and a bruised face, but that wasn't a problem either. All and all he had come out of this pretty good, and he was pleased, because ole Deke lying on the floor wasn't looking too good at all. His nose was bloodied, maybe broken, his eyes blacked, and the kid knew that lots of other bruises were sprouting all over the man's body. That made him feel even more pleased, right up until he looked at his mother.

Adella was still crying, but she was talking to him too, and now he could hear what she was saying. "You have to leave, my son. Leave for good. You can't live here anymore, not after this!" Her Spanish accent, always more pronounced when she was upset, was very strong. "If you're here when he comes to, he'll kill you, or arrest you and then find a way to either put you away for a long time or kill you." "Not if I kill him first," said her son in a cold voice, and his deep brown eyes looked towards the bedroom where his stepfather kept his gun. "Then they'll arrest you, and you'll go to jail, and I'll be left without a husband or a son. Besides you promised me not to kill him no matter what. This is the only way. This way I'll know that you're alive, and he's alive, and I can stay alive too." She was scared but sure that this was the only option. "Mama, if I leave he'll hurt you," said the boy. "Not when I tell him I made you leave. That will make him think I chose him over you, and he'll be happy about that. It's not the truth, Miguelito, I love you, but this is how it has to be." In the state she was in, his mother had slipped and called him the pet name she had used for his first five years, and never after that. The boy nodded. She was right. This was how it had to be. His mother handed him a laundry bag and he packed a few things, jeans, a pair of school uniform pants, a few shirts, underwear, his three sweaters, and his dress shoes. He grabbed the copy of Huckleberry Finn he had stolen from the public library after he was late returning it three times, and didn't have the money to pay the fine. The hawk nosed, thin lipped librarian had taken his library card until he paid the fine, so he had stolen his favorite book. He took a flashlight from his drawer, his brush and comb, toothbrush and toothpaste, a razor, soap and a washcloth, and threw them into the bag. His mother gave him another laundry bag. He looked at her quizzically. "A blanket and a pillow," she said, "I don't know where you'll sleep, but at least I'll know you're warm." She kissed him goodbye, the tears still on her face. She hugged him trying not to hurt his bruised ribs or shoulders, although at this point he didn't even feel the injuries.

"Bye Mama," he said quietly, showing no emotion except with his eyes. Sonny Corinthos, sixteen years old, one month into his junior year in high school, was out on the street, on his own without a home. Life had been pretty awful in that home, but being homeless wasn't going to be a walk in the park either.

by "mailto:RKteach@en.com"

Sonny, wearing his winter coat, with a hat and gloves in the pocket in spite of the fairly warm autumn day, and carrying the two laundry bags, crossed the street and went into the alley by the Cerullo's apartment building. He didn't go into the building, and he didn't plan for his friend Louie's parents or the rest of the Cerullo family to know that he had been there at all, but he couldn't leave home without telling Louie. Louie Cerullo had been his best friend since kindergarten. Louie was a great friend, the kind of friend that could be trusted to keep secrets, even from his own family. And Louie had had to do other things too, things his mother would have been very upset about. It started with Louie caring for his friend's injuries, taking salve and aspirin and bandages from his mother's medicine cabinet. One day Sonny told him that Mrs. Cerullo was going to start missing things, and being a bright person, she would soon put two and two together, come up with four, and do something, something that could bring trouble to the Cerullo family in the form of Deke Woods. Louie was going to have to stop taking care of Sonny, that was all there was to it, but Louie disagreed, he had other ideas. He came up with the plan to shoplift items that they needed from the neighborhood drugstore, and then as time went on, they spread their plan to other stores in other neighborhoods. Sonny always said that Louie had larceny in his soul, because Louie was such a good thief, and he seemed to like stealing so much. They would go into a store, and look for a counter that was staffed by a woman, preferably a middle-aged woman who could be charmed by a small boy with curly black hair, huge deep sad eyes with amazing eyelashes, and wonderful dimples. Sonny would do what Louie called the charm thing at the counter, using all the good manners his mother and the nuns had taught him, batting his eyelashes and smiling to show his dimples. Then Louie would shoplift what they needed. They got quite good at this escapade, but it began to be bothersome to Sonny. After all, his friend was doing something that could get him sent to juvie, and he was doing it for him, so the two boys developed rules. It was after Sonny finished Huckleberry Finn, and then read A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, which led to other books about knights and the way they operated. Knights, the boys discovered had rules for everything they did, a way to live their life, a code of behavior and ethics, so they developed their own code. You never stole anything you didn't need. You never stole toys or candy. You never stole anything but medical supplies, or maybe a present for your mother. The most important rule of all was that all the actual shoplifting had to be done by Louie, because as Louie said, "If I get caught, I'll be in big trouble, but at least I'll still be alive the next day."

Now, Sonny climbed up the fire escape, and peeked in Louie's window. Louie shared the room with his three brothers, and there were two bunk beds in the crowded bedroom. However, his oldest brother was in the Navy, his next brother was working after school and rarely home, and the younger one liked to do his homework in the living room so he could turn on the TV as soon as he finished. As Sonny hoped, Louie was alone in the room. Sonny knocked three times quickly, then one more time on the window, and waited. Louie came to the window, and grimaced as he saw the bruises on his best friend's face. "Come on in," he said. As he had so many times before, Sonny climbed in Louie's window, and sat on Louie's lower bunk. "Louie, I'm Ok, but I fought back this time. Deke is unconscious on the floor at home, and my mother told me to leave, because she is afraid he'll kill me when he wakes up." He figured if he told the story quickly, it would come out easier. "Wha, what do you mean, she told you to leave?" Louie asked, reading from his friend's voice, the coat, hat and gloves in the middle of September and the two laundry bags in his hands, that this wasn't a temporary thing. "She said that this is the only way we won't kill each other, if I leave, and he thinks she chose him over me, so I packed my stuff, and I'm out of there." His words were casual and calm, but Louie knew better. "You can stay here, Sonny, not just tonight, you can live with us. I know my parents will agree, particularly if they know about Deke." Louie saw an end to secrets. "No, no way, if I stayed here, if your parents knew everything, they would be in trouble. Deke would make trouble for them. He could ruin their lives, he could ruin your life. No, your parents can't know I've even been here. I'm just here to tell you what happened and that I won't be at school tomorrow or from now on. I'm here to tell you goodbye." Sonny's voice was firm, but his friend heard the quiver in it. "Well, then you sleep on the roof, and I'll sneak out and sleep there too tonight. We'll talk about your next move then." That settled, Louie moved onto more familiar ground. "Let me get you some aspirin," he said, moving into the closet where he had a secret hiding place filled with his medical supplies among other things. He brought out a canteen; filled it with water from the jug of distilled water he kept there, and handed it and two aspirin to Sonny. Sonny threw the pills into his mouth, and took a swig from the canteen in a quick, practiced movement.

"So how do I score this one?" Louie said, "you knocked him out, so that's one for the kid, but now you're out on the street, so that's one for the cop. I guess I give one point each." Louie went into the closet with his marker, and then came out a few seconds later. "You'll be glad to know that you're still ahead." "Well, I guess I'll stay ahead then, because you aren't going to have anything to score from here on." Sonny smiled, but even though Louie saw the dimples, he knew it wasn't a real smile, not one from the heart, just the kind that Sonny flashed to make people think he was OK. "Talk to you later," Sonny said, and he ducked out the window and headed for the roof. He scooted up the fire escape, and onto the roof just as he had so many times before, day or night didn't matter, it was always safe and familiar. The chimney was at the side of the roof, and the area beyond the chimney, where the two boys had come to sleep outside and watch the stars together so often, was hidden from the fire escape steps and the door from the building to the roof. A knee high wall around the roof for safety, hid the rooftop spot from the street and the nearest building as long as you didn't stand up. Sonny put his pillow and blanket out, and laid down on top of them, covering himself with his coat. The bruising on his shoulders hurt as they touched the ground, but he knew the aspirin would soon lessen the pain. It was still light out, and he took out his book and began to read for the hundredth time about Huck and Jim and their adventures. After a while, he dozed off, and woke to darkness, stars, and his best friend sitting beside him, holding a sleeping bag and a plate with a sandwich and an apple on it. "I want you to take the sleeping bag with you, Sonny. It will make you more comfortable, and you're going to have to get enough sleep so that you can figure out how to stay alive on the streets." Louie had been doing a lot of thinking in the last three or four hours. He handed Sonny the plate, and the canteen, and leaned back against his own pillow, looking up at the stars. Sonny ate without talking or looking at Louie, but as he finished the sandwich, and picked up the apple, he turned and said, "that's your Boy Scout sleeping bag, Louie, I can't take it. You begged for that bag for Christmas when we were ten, and you were thrilled when you actually got it and the canteen. I won't take them both, and the canteen is easier to carry." "I'm not a Boy Scout anymore," Louie said, and he smiled, "I quit, because let's face it, I wasn't going to make Eagle Scout, and take the pledge about honesty with a straight face, and then steal stuff from the drug store the next day." "Just one more way being my best friend and helping me screwed up your life," Sonny said with a wry smile. "Hell, I'd rather have been your best friend, and had the adventures we've had than be an Eagle Scout any day," Louie exclaimed, "there isn't any comparison at all." The two boys were quiet, each thinking his own thoughts as they looked up at the stars as they had so many times before, but this time was different and they both knew it. Things would never be the same. Sonny might hide out on the roof for a day or two, and he might meet Louie after school on the playground or in the alley nearby, but they would never again be the primary players in each other's lives. This was goodbye, although they would not say it in those words, not that night.

by "mailto:scullysboy@yahoo.com"

Sonny spent one more night on the roof, but Louie was unable to sneak up and join him. His parents piled the whole clan into the station wagon, and they headed off to visit Gloria's parents in Queens for the weekend. Louie offered Sonny his key, so his friend could sleep inside that night while they were gone, but Sonny declined. "I need to get used to sleeping on the streets," he told Louie. Louie felt like crying, but didn't want to seem like a wuss. He also figured that Sonny hadn't shed a tear in years. He had developed an uncanny ability to shut off his emotions; a defense mechanism against the horror his life had become. The one saving grace about Sonny being out on the streets, Louie mused, was that he would no longer be the punching bag for a maniacal cop. Sonny watched from the rooftop as the Cerullo's drove off. Louie, tucked way in the back of the wagon, put his hand up on the glass. Sonny saluted him back. He crawled into Louie's sleeping bag, which he planned to leave behind in the morning. Lying there, alone, safe from anyone's ears and eyes, Sonny Corinthos cried himself to sleep.

The rising sun woke him early. He got up, rolled up the sleeping bag and gathered his meager possessions into the laundry bags his mother had given him. Walking quickly and silently down the fire escape, he then jumped the few feet from the end of it to the ground. As he walked, he reached into his jeans and pulled out what little money he had. It was enough for a donut and the subway, at least. After purchasing the donut at the corner, he headed to the subway. He stood, looking at the map of all the lines, and tried to decide where to go. Wherever it was, it needed to be outside of Brooklyn; outside of Deke's domain and that of his police cronies. Somewhere where he could breathe freely for the first time in eight years; somewhere he could try to find a better life. His eyes drifted across the map of all the burroughs, and came to rest on Manhattan. "Yeah," he said quietly, "that's it." Manhattan was where all the big men lived. The men with so much power and money, they put the wise guys in Brooklyn to shame. These were men that were respected, men that were feared. Men that no one would dare to raise a hand to, or to lock in a closet. Sonny had no idea how, but he would become one of them, or he would die trying. He boarded the train and it sped off, taking him to his destiny.

He emerged on Broadway near Madison Square Garden. The sheer volume of people on the streets blew him away. Fear gripped him and he wondered, "how will I survive in this?" He began walking and soon found himself at Bryant Park. It seemed a decent enough place to sleep, so he took note of its location and walked through it. As he walked, he noticed a family of four sitting on a bench. Rather, the mother and father were sitting, and the two boys were running around nearby. Noticing how distracted they were watching the kids, Sonny also saw the mother's purse was sitting unattended, next to her on the bench. It was effortless to walk behind them and scoop it up. He was far away before they even noticed what had happened. Crouching behind a shrub, Sonny explored it's contents and was happy to find several hundred dollars. "Tourists." He took the money, but left the traveler's checks, then tossed the purse aside so it could be seen from the walking path. He had no wish to ruin their vacation; they looked like a nice family. But it was more money then he'd ever seen and it would buy him a safer place to sleep for several nights. "I can do this," Sonny told himself. He'd steal until he had enough money to live on; enough money that he could respect himself and be worthy of others taking notice. Then, and only then, he'd seek out those important men, and ask for an opportunity to prove himself. And he prayed to God, they'd give it to him.

Sonny walked and walked. The further he got from the Park, the more run-down the neighborhoods became. Soon, he thought, he'd be in the right price range for a room for the night. As he approached one corner, he noticed two women standing there. They were unmistakably hookers, and Sonny braced himself to walk past them. They watched him approach, and one spoke to him as he expected. Back in Brooklyn, the streetwalkers used to talk to him whenever he passed. Of course, there were none in his neighborhood; they wouldn't ply their wares on the street where a cop lived. But they were nearby, and Sonny would see them from time to time. "Hey honey, want a date?" Sonny stopped and looked at the woman. He would have normally kept walking, but they were blocking the sidewalk. So instead, he shyly smiled at her and replied, "no thank you ma'am." The two women burst into laughter. "Ma'am? Oh that's rich! Did you hear that Simone?" The other woman responded, "yeah I heard Marlene. What a gentleman we got here!" "What's the matter kid, no money?" Marlene asked seriously, looking intently into his eyes. Sonny blushed under her gaze, "something like that." "You know," she continued, "you're so handsome, I might even give you a freebie." Sonny couldn't help but smile widely, showing his dimples to their full effect. "Would you look at that?" Simone commented; "aren't you just the cutest thing?" Marlene stepped closer and reached out to touch Sonny's face with her hand. "What's your name?" Sonny winced at the gesture and took one step back. "Sonny." "Even his name is cute," Simone said. Marlene kept looking him right in the eyes, but lowered her hand down to her side. "Well Sonny, are you sure there's nothing I can do for you?" Sonny cleared his throat, "actually, could you tell me a place to stay?" "For the night, or longer?" "Longer." "There's the Excalibur Hotel, it's two blocks that way," Marlene pointed behind her with her thumb. "It's a dump, but the doors lock, and it's cheap." Simone offered, "Marlene lives there kid. Maybe you can stay with her." Marlene shot her a "shut up" look. Something about this kid made her want to take care of him, like a mother, although she was barely old enough to be one to him. "Thanks," Sonny said; it sounded like as good a place as any. He waited for Marlene to step aside and let him pass. As he did, he said, "see ya." Marlene watched him walk away and whispered, "yeah, see ya kid."

by "mailto:scullysboy@yahoo.com"

Sonny found the Excalibur Hotel and went inside. The manager was reluctant to even talk to someone so young, but when Sonny told him he could pay two weeks rent up front ($50 a week), the man took him right to a room. "Sheets and towels come with the room," the manager told him, pointing to a stack of dingy linens on the bed. Sonny just nodded his head in response, and plopped his belongings down on the floor. He didn't want to touch the mattress, which he had no doubt was infested with fleas. The manager handed him the key and left. Sonny looked around; the room was small and it was dirty. Bile rose in his throat at the thought of sleeping there. His home in Bensonhurst might have been hell, but at least it was clean. "Well," Sonny thought, "the first order of business is to find a Laundromat." He gathered up the towels and sheets and left the room, locking the door behind him. It would be worth spending the money on detergent and bleach and washing everything in the hottest water he could. Then, he'd find a store and buy some cleaning supplies and flea spray. He'd stay up all night if need be, but he wouldn't lay down and close his eyes until the place was clean...as clean as it could be.

Sonny awoke with a start. He thought he heard a woman screaming, but he wasn't sure. It could have been a nightmare, or it could have been real. There was always something to interrupt his sleep at the Excalibur Hotel. He wondered why the cheapest, most filthy and dangerous hotels were always given names to make them sound regal. They weren't fooling anyone. But, given his limited income, whatever he could steal on a daily basis, Sonny wasn't in the position to be choosy about where he lived. At least he had a roof over his head, and no one was beating on him. That was a big step up in Sonny's eyes. He turned over to his other side in his narrow, creaky bed, and fell back to sleep. In the morning, he woke early, as he always did, and headed to the local YMCA. He'd spent some of his meager earnings on a basic membership there. It was a place he could take a hot shower, and swim a few laps if he felt like it. He could also just hang out there when he had nothing to do, and it was relatively safe. Occasionally, some disgusting, older guy hit on him, but Sonny would dispatch them with a lethal stare. One of them, as he apologized and backed away, told him he should get used to it because he was so handsome. Sonny never thought of himself as such, even though his mother always told him he was "muy lindo" and the girls at school used to talk about him as he walked by. He even thought that Louie's little sister Lois had a crush on him, but, out of respect for Louie, he would never have touched her. The truth is, Sonny had never touched any girl, for a combination of reasons. First, he respected women, like he respected his mother. Second, he was a bit intimidated, and didn't want to make a fool out of himself. But third, and most significantly, he didn't want anyone to see the damage that Deke had done to him. Getting intimate with a girl would let her get too close. She would see the bruises and the scars, and then she'd ask questions; questions Sonny would not want to answer. So, instead, he avoided girls except to politely say hello, or hang out with in a group.

There were a couple of guys a few years older than him that he saw several times a week at the Y. He was fairly certain they weren't gay, but they did seem to watch him. Finally, after three weeks had passed, they approached him. "Hey what's up?" one of them asked. "Nothing," Sonny replied, eyeing them warily. "You want to make some money?" the other one spoke up. Sonny put up his hands, "hey, I'm not like that all right?" The boys both laughed, and one responded, "shit man, neither are we don't worry. No, we're talking about a job." Sonny perked up, "doing what?" "We...we find cars for people." Sonny narrowed his eyes, "you mean you steal cars for a chop shop?" The two boys looked at each other, "see, I told you he looked like a smart kid." "Yeah, I'm smart, so what do you need me for?" Sonny asked, suspicious about the whole thing. The boy who first addressed him answered, "we need another guy and you look like you could use the money. We go out every night with a list of certain types of cars they want. Then, just hot wire them, and you're gone. Do you know how?" Sonny nodded his head. He'd learned that skill in Bensonhurst, where he and Louie had hooked up with an older guy named Ritchie. Ritchie worked for the "organization" that ran Brooklyn, although he was fairly low on the totem pole. Sonny had helped him steal a few cars. Louie wanted to help, but Sonny insisted his friend stay out of it. Louie had all the makings of a great life: a loving family, brains; Sonny didn't want him to mess that up. The second guy spoke, "so, you want in or not?" "How much will I get?" Sonny asked, not that it really mattered. "25 bucks a car," was the reply. Sonny put out his hand, "deal."

The car theft operation proved to be lucrative enough to pay Sonny's rent and for some of his food. He usually stole a car a night; he was good at it. Two months later, out on the prowl for a Thunderbird, Sonny spotted the most beautiful car he'd ever seen. It was in cherry condition, and fire-engine red. He was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. It was parked outside a quiet street off Broadway on the West Side of Manhattan; a street he never spent much time on for it wasn't exactly his neighborhood. He looked around; the street was quiet, which was strange for nine o'clock at night. He stealthily approached the car, which he found unlocked. "Suckers," he thought, and eased himself in behind the wheel. In moments, he had the engine started and the gas pedal to the floor. He didn't see the men that ran out of a building at the sound of the tires screeching. As he drove, he admired the car, and felt horrible about it being chopped up, or re-painted. He drove around and around, circling away from the street where he found it. After an hour, he started heading back; he couldn't go through with it. He made up his mind to return the car to it's spot on that quiet street, and hope that no one noticed it had been "borrowed." It was still quiet when he pulled up, parked and got out. Breathing a sigh of relief, he started to walk away. The next thing he knew, he was thrown onto the hood of the car, and was held down by several large men. "What do we have here boys?" asked the man holding him by the front of his jacket. "Looks like grand theft auto to me," another one answered. Sonny shook his head as best he could lying against the car hood. "No! I just took it for a ride. I'm sorry!" "Oh he's sorry!" the first man said, laughing heartily. The others joined in. A new voice cut through the noise, "let him go." The men released Sonny and stepped back from the car. A tall, thin man walked over to him. "Get up boy." The way he said it, coupled with the way the men all obeyed his order, told Sonny this was an important man. He scooted off the car and stood at attention. The man looked him over. "Why'd you bring it back?" Sonny looked him in the eyes, which were so steely they sent a shiver down his spine, "it...it's too beautiful to destroy." The man nodded his head, "yeah, it is. So you just took it for a ride and then came back." It wasn't formed as a question, so Sonny remained silent. "Good, that's good kid. Since it's my car. Of course, the operation you were taking it for is mine too, so I guess I can't be too upset with you." Sonny swallowed hard; this must be Joe Scully. The guys he was working with had told him about Mr. Scully. He was the biggest boss around. Sonny took a deep breath and spoke, "Mr. Scully, I had no idea it was your car. If I did, I would never have touched it. Please forgive me." Joe Scully was surprised by the boy's good manners. "How old are you kid?" "Uh, 16," Sonny replied. "16? Where do you live?" "The Excalibur," Sonny quietly told him, embarrassed to admit it. "Alone?" Sonny nodded his head. Scully pointed at a building near where they were standing, "you see that place?" Sonny turned to look. The building was a nice brownstone, with what looked like a small bar or club on the bottom floor. In fact, the whole neighborhood looked like nice apartments and shops, certainly much nicer that where he was living. He turned back and answered, "yes." "Be here tomorrow morning, 8 AM. You're going to help out, keep the place up, do errands...sound good?" Sonny beamed, "yes sir Mr. Scully!" Joe smiled back, "good. So, no more stealing cars for you kid. Tell your cohorts, you're moving up in the world." Sonny wanted to laugh and yell for joy, but held it in. Joe started to walk away, then stopped and looked at him again, "hey kid, what's your name?" "Sonny, sir, Sonny Corinthos." "Go home Sonnyboy, and be here bright and early tomorrow. Oh, and one more thing. Your most important duty is to clean and polish my car every day when I get here. I don't want to see one speck of dirt on it, understand?" Hard work never daunted Sonny, and now that he had a chance to prove himself to someone who mattered, he wasn't going to fail. "Yes sir, you can count on me Mr. Scully." Joe nodded his head, "I know."

by "mailto:scullysboy@yahoo.com"

It only took Sonny a short time to get the hang of all his duties. He kept Joe's car clean; kept the Broadway Men's Club neat and tidy; and, did whatever errands Joe sent him on. Sometimes, he would pick up dry cleaning for Joe and other things for Joe's wife Janine, but usually, he would go to dark and smoky back rooms and pick up envelopes heavy with cash, which he would promptly return to the club. He kept his eyes and ears open, and his mouth shut. He wanted to learn as much as he could about the numbers running business, which Joe was heavily into. He also ascertained that Joe's criminal empire also consisted of prostitution, loan sharking and stolen goods, but gambling was the primary source of income. All the local bookies worked for Joe, and he ran an illegal casino out of a Manhattan nightclub. Sonny was in awe of Joe, and duly intimidated by him. Joe had style, and was smart. He was also very greedy, and wouldn't pass up an opportunity to make a buck. But all his men, as well as the neighborhood residents, respected him. Joe took care of the area, especially since he lived nearby in a Brownstone he owned, with his wife and their young daughter. There was no crime on the streets, and no one feared having their homes robbed or cars stolen. They were all under Joe's protection. If anyone dared to commit a street crime, they were severely punished.

Sonny watched one day, as Joe's bodyguard Vince dragged a man into the club. "What's this?" Joe asked, emerging from his office in the back. "This prick mugged Mrs. Fitzgibbons, right down the street. Took her purse and ran." "Ran right into you, I assume," Joe said. Vince nodded his head. Joe looked at the man, enraged. "You must be new around here." The man stared him in the eyes, "what if I am?" Joe smiled briefly, then backhanded the man across the face. Vince held him up by the arms, which he pinned behind the man's back. Sonny, standing across the room, could sense what was coming, and it scared the hell out of him. Joe grabbed the man by the hair and pulled his head back. "I'm just going to say this once," he spoke in a quiet voice. "You get the hell out of my turf. I see you here again, you're dead." The man debated giving him a smart retort, but thought better of it. Vince waited for his instructions. Joe thought it over, and decided to punctuate his warning. He walked behind the bar and retrieved a baseball bat. "Oh shit!" the man exclaimed, struggling against Vince. "That's right," Joe replied, swinging the bat back. Sonny had to close his eyes. The sound the bat made when it hit the man's legs, almost made him vomit. He knew if he was to make it in this new life of his, he'd need to be able to stomach the violence. He already knew he could take a punch, he proved that living with Deke for eight years. But, administering beatings was another story; would that make him like Deke?

He forced himself to open his eyes, and watched as Joe hit the man again. The man's screams filled the club and even the most seasoned wise guy there shifted uncomfortably. Joe put the bat down on a table and told Vince to get the guy out of there. Vince dragged him out; the man couldn't have walked anyway. Joe looked up at Sonny across the room and motioned to him with his head. Sonny hurried over. "Put this back," Joe said, handing him the bat. "Yes sir," Sonny replied. Joe watched him as he walked behind the bar. He was pleased with his new recruit. The kid did what he was told and kept his mouth shut. Joe had a feeling he'd go a long way in the organization. The door opened, and several men walked in. They greeted the boss, then walked over to the bar. "Hey kid, give us some beers," one of them said. Sonny got them their beers and popped off the tops. One of the men sized him up; "what's your name again?" Sonny looked him in the eyes; Joe told him to always do that when someone was speaking to him. "Sonny Corinthos," he replied. The man looked at his buddies, then back to Sonny. "Corinthos? What the hell kind of name is that? That's not Irish." "No, it isn't," Sonny said. Joe listened, ready to step in if things got out of hand, but curious to see how Sonny handled himself. The man persisted, "so, what is that?" "It's Greek." "Greek?" The three men laughed. Sonny got angry. His father might be a deadbeat loser, but his name was his name, and he was what he was. "Yeah Greek. My father is Greek and Irish, and my mother is Cuban. What about it?" The man stopped laughing. "Are you giving me lip?" Sonny shook his head, "no, you were giving me lip." The man reached across the bar and grabbed Sonny by the shirt. "That's enough!" Joe yelled, walking over. The man reluctantly let Sonny go. "Grow up Sean," he told the man, "this is America, or haven't you heard? Besides, Sonny here is my boy, right kid?" Sonny nodded his head, still staring at Sean. "Sure boss," Sean replied, staring back at Sonny. It was one thing to take on the kid, but he wouldn't mess with the boss. "Sonny, come with me," Joe said. Sonny followed him into the office, and Joe closed the door behind them. "You handled that well, but you have to know that you can follow through. If you engage someone like that, you've got to be willing to take it all the way." "I know Mr. Scully." "The most important rule of all kid, when it’s you and your enemy, only one of you walks away. Remember that." "I will." Joe patted Sonny on the side of his face and smiled. "You're going to go far Sonnyboy, mark my words." He turned and left the office. Sonny stood and watched him through the open door, and hoped he was right.