Born to Steal: When the Mafia Hit Wall Street Read Online Free PDF Page B

them. They argued every morning, every night. My father
     was sort of like me. He used to like to go out and not come back. Couldn’t sit still. Had ants in his pants. I don’t think
     if there was no child involved they would have got married because they were always fighting. My aunt says they were fighting
     when they were dating. My father would wander off. It’s just like the same traits as me because that’s the way I am. That’s
     the way I was with my marriage, or even dating Stefanie. I was always lying to her about something.… My mother always used
     to say that. ‘You’re just like your fucking father!’
    “Something would always happen. The bus was stuck. Cab crashed. He fell in the Hudson River, he had to swim home. Some stupid
     shit. So he would leave on a Friday, say he was working late, not go home until, like, Sunday. So he would say he was coming
     home at five o’clock from work and he’d be home at nine o’clock.”
    N ICK : “I was never home, working fourteen, sixteen hours a day. . . . After work when I got the time I would get the chance to
     maybe hang out with the guys, something like that. So either way I was coming home late, whether I got done early at work
     or I got done late at work. Then I would go basically straight home. If I was done early I would go out with the salespeople,
     we go have a couple drinks, dinner, just hang out, then go home. Never got home early enough. The kids were just asleep. That
     went on for years.
    “There was always tension and a lot of arguing with his mother. You drink, you do this. Drugs, this, that, whatever. That
     went on a majority of many years. Arguments and stuff like that. So I would figure not to come home the next day. . . . [Laughing.]
     If you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t—when I do I don’t want to be damned. That’s what made me want to hang out.
     During the week, I’ll be honest with you, I never looked to go home.”
    Louis emerged from the pressure cooker of the Pasciuto household as what might be known today as a “difficult child.” But
     on Staten Island in those days he was known as a “brat”—at least, outside of the Pasciuto household. He was also known as
     a “monster.”
    Louis would not dispute those characterizations.
    No matter what Nick and Fran wanted, Louis was not going to do it. They disagreed with each other on just about everything.
     So why should he be any different?
    L OUIS : “I didn’t listen because I had my own opinion about things. My dad used to tell me you could go out from five o’clock at
     night and you have to be back at twelve. I used to say, ‘Dad, that’s seven hours. What’s the difference if I leave at eleven
     and come back at six in the morning? It’s still the same seven hours!’ I used to try to make them believe it. I used to sell
     him into fucking believing that. Or I’ll even come home at four, so I’m only going to be out five hours. I’m out two hours
     less. You got two hours on me, I used to tell him. What’s better than that? It didn’t work. But I would leave anyway.”
    Nick tried hard not to be like his own father, who had been a stern taskmaster before leaving the family when Nick was ten.
     He tried to be Louis’s friend even as Louis got worse and worse, more and more defiant. The family car stolen and wrecked
     when he was seventeen and not even licensed. He got a beating for that but it was no big deal. Boys will be boys. Besides,
     times were changing. Kids showed no respect. Nick’s father had demanded respect. “Lots of times he’d smack you around just
     in case you did something wrong,” said Nick. “That means, if I do something wrong, he already hit me for it. I didn’t want
     to be that way with Louis.” Nick tried not to hit. It was tough.
    N ICK : “Having no respect for authority. That’s basically what it turned out to be. There was no rules but Louis’s rules. I had
     rules too. ‘But those are your