BIG BOSS

My fat grandfather, hair thinning, dyed red, sat at the heavy round oak dining room table in the otherwise empty room. There was no cloth on the table. Its only cover was stacks of money, piled neatly, held together with thick rubber bands. Easily in reach for the old man was a large amber colored glass ashtray. A Havana cigar, the band still on it, rested, it’s smoke choking me.

In the kitchen tin gallons were being filled thru funnels with what looked like water but smelled as strong as bitter medicine. ‘We’re done. We’re leavin’, Lucky called to my grandfather. In a throaty voice the men were told to come in the other room. ‘I’ll take care of you now.’ The boss looked at the piles of money, thought for a minute and handed one pile to Lucky and one to Pete. ‘Want a cigar too? Fresh from Havana.’ ‘No, we’d better get movin’. ‘Go, and don’t come back until you hear from me. Be careful. The Feds are everywhere!’

3 men carry the heavy cans of gin to the back yard where their altered, souped-up car waits. In a second, nobody would know the cans were under the floor. Lucky starts to back the car out and all hell breaks loose. The Feds were at the front door and pushed it right off its hinges. Without waiting, guns drawn, they headed to the Boss’s table. In the yard other Feds had handcuffed the delivery men. Neighbors were watching in the front of the house and leaning over fences in the back.  Some hissed the Feds, other gave my grandfather a smile and thumbs up.

The thousands of dollars on the table were disappearing fast. ‘Hey, Officer Jackson. Here’s something for you. Divvy it with your squad.’

Putting some of the money up his sleeve, the captain doles bills out to his men. Friend and foe had no complaints. The police drove away happy.

The gin drivers got in their loaded car and headed for Rte. 1 and D.C.

The raid was over. Nobody got hurt. Everybody came out ahead. Boss leaned back in his rocking chair, puffed on that smelly cigar and gave me, his 10 year old grand daughter who saw the whole thing, a lot of money, one dollar, a pat on my rear and orders, ‘Don’t you tell your mother or father what you saw or no more money for you, ever!’

I never told ‘til now and he isn’t around to know it.