[legendsport]

September 3, 1937: Jersey City, NJ:

The door to the butcher's shop slammed open and two boys were shoved through, both falling onto the sawdust-covered floor. A large man, wearing a nicely tailored, though slightly rumpled suit followed them in. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and blotted his sweat-covered forehead.

"Hotter'n than the devil's..." he began, then saw an aproned woman standing behind the counter, hands on hips and glaring at him.

"Sorry, Stella," he said.

"And what's this?" the woman said, gesturing at the two youngsters. One of them was already standing, and brushing sawdust off his clothes. The other was holding his face in his hands as he squatted on the floor.

"That's Nicky," the man said, pointing at the kid on the floor. "Apparently he and this other one were going at it in the schoolyard," he continued, a disgusted look on his face.

Another man emerged, stepping through a doorway at the back of the shop. "Nicky?" he asked, a deep frown creasing his forehead. This man was rail thin and dressed just as impeccably as the first man, but he had an aura of command about him. The woman behind the counter pursed her lips and shook her head. Another young man, bearing a strong resemblance to the thin man, stood behind the counter quietly taking everything in.

"Yeah, Tony," the large man said. He folded his hankie and slipped it back into his pocket.

"Get up and stop crying, Nicky," Tony said. The boy on the floor rubbed the back of his arm across his running nose and staggered to his feet. The woman gasped as she saw the boy's black eye.

The other kid stood quietly, his hands balled into fists, saying nothing as he faced the woman behind the counter in a position where he could easily see everyone in the room - the large man to his left, the boy rising to his feet beside him, and the thin man to his right.

"What's your name, kid," Tony - the thin man - asked.

"Roger," was the surly answer.

"Roger what? And don't be disrespectful neither," Tony said.

Roger Cleaves swallowed and gave his full name.

"Cleaves, eh?" the large man said, cocking an eyebrow. "As in Johnny Cleaves?" he asked.

Roger nodded. "Yeah, that's my father."

The young man behind the counter snorted and said, "I think you mean 'was' your father, kid."

Roger glared at him but didn't say anything.

Rocky said, "Your brothers... they're ballplayers right?"

Roger nodded wondering what that had to do with anything. He hadn't seen Jack or George in months.

"So what happened?" Tony asked, getting back on the matter at hand.

Nicky opened his mouth to answer, but stopped with his mouth hanging open as Tony raised a hand and said, "Not you." Then he pointed a finger (one that was sporting a very nice ring, Roger noted) and said, "Him. Cleaves. Talk."

Roger sighed and spread his hands. "Simple. Nick owed me fifty cents and wouldn't pay," he explained.

"So you what? Beat on him?" Tony asked flatly.

Roger shrugged and said, "Yeah. Pay your debts or pay the price is my motto," he finished.

The large man chortled, nodded and muttered, "A good motto, kid."

"Shut up Rocky," Tony snarled. Then he looked at Roger again and said, "You know who Nicky is?" he asked.

Roger shrugged and said, "Well, I know his name and I know he owes me money. Ain't nothin' else I need to know is how I see it."

Tony smirked. "Is that so?" he asked quietly. Then he shook his head. "That kid is my son. You know who I am?"

Roger looked around and said, "I'd guess you're the owner of Falcone Beef by the look of things. And based on that... I'd say Nicky should be able to pay his debts."

Rocky chortled again, then clammed up when Tony shot him a look and raised his eyebrows.

Tony turned his attention back to Roger. "Yeah, right on both accounts. My name is Tony Falcone. And this butcher shop is indeed my business. As are certain.... other things."

Roger frowned. "Like what?" he asked.

Tony shook his head. "Things. You don't need to know no more than that, kid." Then he looked at his son, still sniffling as his eye continued to swell up.

"Is it true, Nicky? You owe this kid money?" he asked in a soft tone that nevertheless seemed to carry a lot of menace.

Nicky shuffled his feet a bit and nodded.

"What for?"

"He bet on the Cougars to beat the Kings yesterday... and they lost," Roger said.

"Pardon me?" Tony asked, astonishment written on his face.

"I said, he bet on the Cougars in yesterday's game. They lost 3-2 and now he's tryin' to welsh on the bet." Roger crossed his arms and tried to glare back at Tony. "I pay when the kids who bet with me win, and I expect to be paid when they lose."

Tony shook his head. Roger noticed that Rocky's eyes were wide with wonder.

"How old are you kid?" Tony asked.

"Almost fourteen," Roger replied.

Tony blew a breath from under his bushy mustache. "Thirteen, and runnin' a sports book at PS #8."

Roger didn't say anything, but the corner of his mouth quirked up in a small smirk.

"You're a prodigy, kid," Tony said with a distinct note of admiration.

"Mrs. Kenneally says I'm too smart for my own good," Roger offered in response.

Tony chuckled and even Rocky risked a small chortle. "I'd wager that's true. And you're your own muscle too, I take it?"

Roger shrugged again. "I know how to take care of myself," he said.

Tony and Rocky exchanged a knowing glance over Roger's head. "Just like Joe B," Rocky said and Tony gave a small nod. Roger frowned, not knowing what any of that meant. Joe B? Who was that?

"You ever seen a Tarzan movie, kid?" Tony asked. Rocky and the young guy behind the counter (Tony's older son?) both laughed but Roger didn't see where the joke was in that question.

Roger shrugged and said, "I guess so. Why?"

Tony smiled for a moment and then said, "Nothin' - nevermind."

Tony told Nicky to go upstairs to "clean himself up." Then he stood for a moment, tapping his chin with that same beringed finger and staring at Roger. Roger fought down the urge to make a break for it, and tried to look as calm and collected as possible. As Mrs. Kenneally had said, he was no dummy, and he knew what Tony's "other businesses" must be.

"You want a job, kid?" he finally asked.

Roger thought for a moment. But just a moment. Then he smiled and said, "Sure, why not."

"Attaboy," Rocky said.

.