Wiseguy Charming
Ever since I could remember I wanted to be an actor. To me, being an actor was better than anything. Better than the president. Better than being the head of the family. And I mean, what could I say? The lights, the fame, and the chance to be anyone I wanted. It was an allure unlike any other. The family would never understand. They were always wrapped up in the business and keeping control of the neighborhood.
However, these big stars weren’t like anyone else. They could crash any party to a standing ovation for the simple fact that they were there. They could double or triple park in the handicap spot and the old guys hobbling along would ask them to sign their walkers. You name a season. Winter, Summer, Fall, it didn’t matter, you could find them shutting down bars and clubs and causing all sorts of commotion. When some nosy old bag called the cops, these actors would get a personal escort back to their mansions from the chief of police themself. This is all I ever wanted. Sticking with the family? That was nothing, I would be a nobody doing the same old boring job as a wise guy. Stealing high-end cars, pulling bank jobs, force any number of businesses under our thumb. It was as boring as watching paint dry.
I knew deep down that couldn’t be me. While my cousin thought I was pulling jobs, I was going to acting school, working any form of extra-role or stagehand I could find. Being a wise guy, that was nothing, no better than the common janitor working for a buck fifty an hour sweeping up some little brat’s mess. However, being on the stage, in front of the camera, having anyone and everyone buy you any number of things, this is how you make the people love you. Actors may move a little fast, but that’s only because no one ever got in their way.
My father wouldn’t understand my dream. He was a Jersey man. Born into a Siciliana family. The business was a family affair. Had been ever since I was little. I still remember every wedding, dinner, and sit-down my father dragged me to. The utter monotony of it all felt like a punishment for something I haven’t even done yet. Half the time I snuck in copied play scripts stolen from the school library. The other half I fell asleep right as some made-man from Brooklyn was flipping the table in some hissy fit over dope prices. Hell, I probably should have been diagnosed with a sleeping disorder by how often my father had to shake me awake.
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The minute I turned sixteen he put me to work for the family. I was a driver for the few cousins with big enough balls to pull bank jobs. He said that his thinking was that a couple of do-good cops would never stop a brace-faced kid learning to drive. The truth was that my father was trying to spark some kind of excitement or interest in the business. I was no better than a glorified taxi driver. Cops were easy to fool when you didn’t give a rat’s ass about the job you were forced to do. Cops never caught us and no one ever got shot. Unfortnently, this snoozefest of an occupation only gave me more credibility in the family. By the time I was twenty, I was rocketed up to be in charge of the extortions we were running in the burrow. Let me be clear. Clearer than the crystal sitting in your grandmother’s front parlor. This promotion might as well have been sorting the toothpicks by size and color in Vincent’s restaurant.
However, for a brief, fleeting moment, I had it all. Fame, power, respect. My secret life of theater and unpaid acting had finally turned into something. It all happened ten days ago but I remember it like it was a week ago yesterday. By sheer chance, my boy Tony was a rare appreciator of the arts and had a vested interest in the local theater production company. I offered to keep an on the theater for him so he could spend a bit more time with one of his favorite mistresses. What he didn’t need to know was that I was actually trying out for a modern version of the classic Sleepy Hollow story. It was the chance of a lifetime. No way in hell I could ever pass this up. Sure, I was risking the family name but what was I supposed to do? Go back to being a nobody working the same boring job as a wise guy? With a great audition and a little help from Beretta, I landed the role that would take me to places I would never have dreamed of.
The night of the show was perfect. I had told Tony to take the night off. After all, it was only a play. Nothing I couldn’t handle alone. Technically speaking I never did lie to him. I told him I would be there to watch over it all. Tony didn’t need to know that I was starring as Prince Charming. There were a handful of talent scouts for some high falutin’ art school in Manhattan in the audience. I was on edge. I never felt neves like these before. However, this play was the best performance in my life. So well in fact, that the director had us go out in costume to have a meet and greet with the entire audience. That’s when it all came crashing down.
I’ve done some things I’m not proud of. Giving beatings was never something I enjoyed. Even more so when it’s done with a flip-flop. My father thought it was belittling and only reserved for the worst of transgressions. For me, it was laborious and ridiculous, but what my father said went and that was that. Back to the point. One day, this tailor living on our block, Mr. Shinebock decides he’s done paying for my family’s protection.
See this doesn’t go down well, and next thing I know, I’m beating this man within an inch of his life with a leather sandal. He’s bruised, bloody, and saying he’ll pay up. Mainly, just praying for this beating to stop. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his little girl. Chocolate milk in hand and tears welling up in her eyes. I don’t think that’s a face I’ll ever forget. After shaking the last of the talent scout’s hands I see Mr. Shinebock’s little girl. Tears were pouring out her face as her mother is asking what was wrong. She takes one look into my eyes and she doesn’t see Prince Charming. All she sees is a wise guy beating her father half to death with a flip-flop. In one simple sentence, she burned every single dream of acting I’ve ever had.
“You simply can’t be Prince Charming.” This little girl screamed while burying her face deep in the folds of her mother’s dress. For me, that was it.
If she could see me as I really was, then, there was no way anyone else would believe me as a real actor. I was finished. Now, of course, I had to go back to my boring job with the Family. No more fame. No more respect. Just a regular schnook.
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