Son of the Mob Read Online Free PDF

least not since fourth grade, when the Calabrese hit was big news. Back then some of my teachers put two and two together and figured out that I was related to the prime suspect. There was this one art teacher—when my dad showed up to take me to a dentist’s appointment, she ate a piece of clay. She had been demonstrating how to make handles for ceramic pottery and she got so rattled that she just popped the clay into her mouth like chocolate. She wouldn’t spit it out in front of Dad either. She swallowed it. Missed two days of school due to a “stomach virus.”
    But no one remembers the Calabrese murder anymore. And even if they do, they’ve certainly forgotten the guy the cops couldn’t pin it on. Thank God. Life in the Luca house is tough enough without CNN camping on the front curb.
    Actually, I wouldn’t mind a little of that old notoriety for New Media class. Mr. Mullinicks is the toughest teacher in school. I’m not sure if he knows about my family, but I doubt that would change anything. He’d flunk me. He’d flunk Al Capone, and pack him off to summer school to make up the credits. And if Big Al put up a stink, Mr. Mullinicks would use his trademark line, “That’s your problem.”
    â€œWhat should our Web sites be about?” asks a girl in the front row.
    â€œThat’s your problem,” Mr. Mullinicks informs her. “So long as it’s not obscene and nobody is trying to overthrow the government. And it’s your problem to register your site with all the different search engines so you’ll attract as much traffic as possible. Your grade will be based on one thing and one thing only—how many hits you can generate by the end of the semester.”
    Alex raises his hand. “What if you put together a great site, but not that many people find out about it?”
    â€œThat’s your problem,” the teacher tells him. “If a tree falls in the forest and nobody’s there to hear it, does it make a noise? This class isn’t about having a magnificent tree; it’s about making a big noise. The challenge of the Internet is to reach customers in an increasingly crowded marketplace.” He scowls at us. “And don’t think you can have your grandmother logging on day and night. I expect to see hundreds of hits. How you accomplish that,” he finishes, “is your problem.”
    â€œIt must be nice to be Mr. Mullinicks,” I say to Alex after class. “Everything is someone else’s problem. I’d love to farm out all my problems and lead a trouble-free life.”
    Alex is distracted. “What are you wearing tonight?”
    He’s talking about Alfie Heller’s party in the city. Alfie was at Jefferson last year. Now he’s a freshman at NYU, and he’s gotten the whole senior class invited to his fraternity’s big bash—at least Alfie’s friends, which means pretty much everybody.
    There’s a lot of buzz about it in the school halls. Going to a college party is every high-school kid’s dream. A normal person would be psyched. A superconcentrated mass of hormones like Alex is vibrating like a guitar string.
    â€œI’ll wear clothes ,” I say. “Whatever I grab out of my closet. Come on, man, this party’s supposed to be fun. Don’t turn it into a chess match.”
    â€œThere are going to be college girls there, Vince,” he insists. “We can’t get cocky about this.”
    â€œOh, yeah, we don’t want all the success we’ve had with high-school girls to go to our heads.”
    He’s testy. “I can’t think with all your negativity bouncing around my skull. Now, what do college girls like?”
    â€œI’m guessing they’re not too fond of an idiot who plans his wardrobe like D-day. When I get there, I’d better not see you stressing out.”
    â€œWhen you get there?” He’s