Mick Sinatra: The Harder They Fall Read Free Page A

enemies’ shoes,
not in the shoes of my friends.   I think
like my enemy thinks.   Because if I was
out there, and I heard that some ragtag motherfuckers were able to drive off
with Mick Sinatra’s shit, I’d be planning an attack too.   And by the time the next shipment comes into
any harbor anywhere in this world, there won’t be one gang waiting.   They’ll be hundreds of gangs waiting!   They’ll have to battle for control of my
shit!   My shit!   Because I’ll be a
non-factor.   A non-entity.   The fucking fool who purchases what they can
just drive up and take!”
    Criggs knew
they were in for it.   He knew nothing he
was going to say was going to change Mick the Tick’s mind.   So he appealed to the man’s decency.   To the man’s worldwide reputation.   He flipped the script.   “You’re a businessman, boss,” he said.   “You own one of the most reputable
corporations in this country.   You don’t
need to be gunrunning.   You don’t need
this shit!   But you figure you can’t get
out of it.   You have too many underbosses
you have to supply.   You have too many
men depending on this illegal trade for their livelihoods.   To feed their families and to live a good
life.   They’re too stupid and illiterate
to make it in the legit world.   They rely
on you.”
    Criggs moved
closer to the edge of his seat.   Teddy
saw his error right away.   Because Mick
was listening to him, he figured he was getting through.
    “Think about
this, boss,” Criggs said.   “We need your
money, your expertise, and your reach, yes, we do.   And if you walk away, nothing will be the
same for us.   We’ll be local hoods just
trying to make it, and that’s about it.   But you can get out.   You’ll have
an excuse now.   You can say you turned it
over to your underbosses, to see what they could do, and they blew it.   You knew you would never get out waiting for
them to step up, so you got out now.   The
word will spread like wildfire.   Mick the
Tick retired.   Everybody will believe
that.   You’ll get all of the credit for
running a tight ship while you were in charge, and none of the blame for this
fiasco and anything that goes down after this.   You’ll be out of the Sinatra crime family for good.   The only connection that you’ll have to the
syndicate is the name.   It’ll still bear
your name.”
    Mick was so
astounded by Criggs analysis that he wondered how he ever hired him in the
first place.   “It’ll still bear my name?”
Mick asked him.
    “Like most
major crime families.   The guy who it was
originally named for is either dead, in prison for life, or has nothing to do
with it anymore.   But they keep the name
because the name is the brand.”
    Even Teddy
was floored.   “And you think my father
wants his brand associated with losers and punks who lay down and let the
underworld walk over them?   You think he
can live with that?”
    “But he’ll
be out of the game,” Criggs said.   He
knew, ever since Mick brought Teddy into the business, Teddy could sometimes be
as big an asshole as his old man.   “His
enemies will leave him alone.   This is
his opportunity to leave it up to us, and get the hell out.”
    Teddy shook
his head.   “If you think his enemies are
going to just let him walk away into the sunset as if he never did shit to
anybody, then you’re a bigger fool than I thought you were, Criggs.”
    Any other
man would have been dead after speaking to Criggs that way.   But Teddy wasn’t just any other man.   He was Mick the Tick’s son.   Criggs held his fire.
    “I’m just
trying to make this right, boss,” Criggs said, appealing to Mick again.
    “I know what
you’re trying to do.   You’re trying to
turn lemons into lemonade.   And sometimes
you can.   But most times, with me, their
just lemons.   Bitter, sour lemons that
leaves a bitter, sour taste in your mouth.”
    “Boss,
please!” Criggs begged, the same way many men