Rude Boy USA Read online

  RUDE BOY

  USA

  RUDE BOY

  USA

  VICTORIA BOLTON

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, are coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 Victoria Bolton

  All rights reserved.

  Hairummat Books, White Plains, NY

  Cover Concept and Design by Victoria Bolton

  ISBN: 1518754333

  ISBN 13: 9781518754333

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2015919011

  CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform

  North Charleston, South Carolina

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  First, I would like to thank God for giving me life so I can have dreams that enabled me to put a story like this together. It’s finally on paper and out of my head.

  To my Mom, I love you. Thank you for making me and giving me your strength. I watch you handle things like a champion every day.

  To my best friend, Lisa Holmes. Thank you for putting up with my shenanigans for all of these years.

  Thank you so much for my editing and publishing team for being patient with all of my questions and changes.

  To my extended family and friends, thank you for all of your support.

  Last but certainly not least, thank you to those who I mused to create this story. You have inspired one heck of a story.

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY

  PROLOGUE

  In the middle of the night in a trashy abandoned lot in Harlem, New York, there were four men. Three of them had arrived together as a team. The fourth man, Sammy, was their victim, and they had tied up his arms and legs. Sammy was not associated with the others. He had stolen money from the leader of the group. Sammy would not divulge details of the theft. His silence did not help his situation as each of the three men took turns beating him until they got him to talk. One of the three men turned to the others. “He looks young. He looks very young.”

  One of the men responded, “He looks old enough to go to war. Nobody cares how young you look when you are in a war.”

  Sammy continued to taunt them back. “You guys are fucking trash,” Sammy said to the men, and he spat on one of them.

  The man Sammy spat on told him, “Watch your goddamn mouth!” Sammy ensured them that they would never get information from him and said they could kiss his ass. The three men looked at each other. They began torturing and pistol-whipping Sammy in return. Irritated, the man who Sammy spat on got the idea to stuff money in Sammy’s ass and mouth for being greedy and talking too much shit. He had warned the tied-up man to watch his mouth, and this was the consequence of ignoring that warning. Once they were finished with him, they put a plastic bag over his head, tossed him in the trunk of an abandoned car in the lot, and closed the trunk.

  A fifth man rode up in a car. He got out to see the damage that the three men had produced. They opened the trunk to show him. The fifth man’s face showed his objection. “Was this necessary? Are we wasting money now?” the gentleman said to his three associates.

  One of them said, “It’s theater.”

  Another associate added, “He asked for it. He asked us to do this. He told me to kiss his ass. He likes money, so…” He shrugged.

  The last associate added, “It’s only two hundred dollars in singles. It looks like a lot, but it isn’t.” The fifth man looked down at the body and slammed the trunk shut.

  “Fine, we will discuss this back at the office,” he said. He and his three associates got in the car and headed back to Midtown Manhattan.

  Chapter 1

  In the middle of a block in busy Midtown Manhattan full of shops and stores stood a silver building just twelve feet wide. Distinctive architecture decked in superior aesthetic treatments surrounded this place. Professional pedestrians, as well as regular shoppers, walked up and down the block every day. The noise of cars, police sirens, fire trucks, ambulances, and human voices filled the street twenty-four hours a day. There was no other place like Nineteen West Forty-Sixth Street. This location was noted not only for its unique size but also for its occupants, the Chimera Group. The Chimera Group consisted of a group of men who many residents, as well as law enforcement in the city, speculated were into organized crime, but this was never outright proven. Their involvement in organized crime may have been true on the inside, and to those who knew the inner workings. The sign on the outside of the building—which bore the Chimera Group’s name and a symbol that consisted of a hybrid animal made with a lion’s head, goat’s middle, and snake’s tail—indicated a high-class and highly successful investment company. The company’s logo confused many people. It represented the people who ran it. It comprised the parts of more than one faction, and the philosophy of such a mixture was wildly imaginative, implausible, and dazzling. Bernie chose the name not only because he found the symbol appealing but also because he wanted to pay tribute to his half-Greek heritage and his obsession with Greek mythology.

  The multiracial Chimera Group consisted of four main impeccably groomed men who wore the sharpest of mohair Tonik suits. Each one’s background gave the boss the ability for broad outreach to the city. They were sales representatives, but they were not the typical door-to-door peddlers; they sold futures to the residents of New York City and the surrounding areas. “Give us your money; we will invest it, and you will reap the rewards in due time.” It was hard to believe that many people fell for this line, but they did. The economic environment and future market forecast of the late 1960s did not seem promising. Hard-working, blue-collar residents needed a plan for their future, and these men provided hope, on paper. Wealthier clients had it easier; they were more willing to take risks, as they had more funds to spare.

  Bernie Banks (born Bernard Rhodos), the founder and CEO of Chimera, prided himself on the company’s layout, which consisted of four main men: him and three associates who did the footwork while he stayed at the office. At times, the office resembled a boiler room with lots of phone calls, alcohol, smoking and occasional visits from scantily clad women on call. He saw the company’s logo as a representation of the associates who worked under him. Bernie was a tall man in his sixties with short, thinning hair. He had a salt-and-pepper beard that was medium in length. His face was endearing and pleasant with a slight tan. From looking at him, one could not tell his profession. He wore suits and glasses on occasion, and he was of average weight. Still handsome in his advanced age, he had no problems attracting women. Bernie was a World War II veteran who served honorably until he was court-martialed for assault on an English citizen. The Englishman had physically assaulted a fellow black soldier who served with Bernie in the European Theater of Operations. The two beat the guy to a pulp as a response. The black soldier continued to beat him until the man passed out. The man ended up dying a week later from a brain hemorrhage. The black service member was later convicted of murder and executed at Shepton Mallet. Bernie served two years for assault. He felt that the black soldier had just been defending himself; racism had led to the unjust execution by hanging. He felt that he would have reacted the same if he had been the one attacked.

  In the early years, he began his b
usiness in his apartment with one helper, and it eventually grew into a multimillion-dollar empire for a time. He had spent his entire life working and saving so that he could attain his current situation. He built his reputation on good communication. He was the one in the company who only dealt with the big dogs. The other three men dealt with the general public unless there was a problem. The other men operated as supervisors, with helpers to assist them. Each man was in charge of a borough. One man worked the Bronx and Harlem. Another man worked in Brooklyn, and one other in Queens and sometimes Westchester. Bernie dealt with downtown and Staten Island. All four also made their presence known in Midtown Manhattan if need be.

  Bernie associated with the other Mafia groups, whom he considered lesser to Chimera in their innovation and style. He also dealt with law enforcement, making sure that he kept in good standing with them by paying off large sums of money to keep himself and sometimes his associates out of jail. He also made deals with judges and those involved in the courts. Obtaining funds from the public was not an easy feat, so Bernie had to go through other channels to get money. While the other three men kept their trail clean by working with the mostly legal aspects of Chimera, Bernie headed the illegal part, which included forced protection services, labor racketeering, loansharking, extortion, money laundering, illegal gambling, and, in extreme cases, an occasional robbery. Bernie made sure to inform whoever worked for him that robbery was not a tactic to use unless necessary because it would result in more payoffs to law enforcement for cleanup. That would mean less money for the company. The employees of Bernie’s three junior associates split the robberies and other petty crime. Those guys had nothing to lose if they did not complete the assignments; they were the uninformed scapegoats. Those people consisted of young men in their twenties who had no other direction to go but the military. For many of them, it was a choice of organized crime, jail, or Vietnam. Most of them did not do much but sit around all day, play cards, smoke, and drink before they started working for Bernie. No women were working in Chimera. Bernie and the others felt that this setup was no place for a woman, as the environment was incredibly misogynistic and the guys could be assholes with their daily conversations about the opposite sex. Chimera was a male culture based on power.

  Due to their unique racial makeup and financial success, Chimera became so successful and popular that people in the underground began to refer to the group as the Rude Boys. Their style was a tribute to the most sophisticated subculture of the young street gangsters popular in the United Kingdom and Jamaica. The States had seen nothing like them before now. They were clean-shaven and debonair, with their Ray-Ban sunglasses, immaculate loafers, and sometimes porkpie or trilby hats. When trends turned more to longhaired, Afrocentric, and club flashy, they kept their suited style. Visually, Chimera comprised the coolest people in town. In name recognition, they were second only to the Ambrosino family in New York, the highest ranked crime family. The Ambrosinos had thirty crews and over a thousand members. They ran a dangerous operation. To them, murder was just part of the business and life. To date, it was rumored that the family as a whole had committed over one hundred and fifty murders, all ordered by their boss, Enzo Ambrosino.

  Ben Berardi, a second-generation Italian American, joined Chimera because he just needed a job. He had served in Vietnam briefly before coming to work at Chimera full time. Ben was a tall, slim, but muscular man with dark hair, thick brows, blue eyes, and a classically handsome face with a faint scar down his cheek. He got that scar as a child when he fell off a bike and cut his face. Ben’s grandparents adopted him because his mother was mentally ill and admitted to an institution, where she could not keep custody of him. His father decided he was not ready for a family and abandoned Ben’s mother and him. The details of their relationship were kept secret, but Ben knew that both of his parents had the same last name. When he asked his grandparents about this, they would not give him a clear answer except to say it was a coincidence.

  Ben was Chimera’s number three man. Bernie considered him special because he had been raised in very similar circumstances, losing both parents at a very young age. Bernie had a way of sympathizing with other people’s plight, as his family persecuted his mother. Her sin lay in not being the obedient Jewish woman that her parents wanted and in having a child out of wedlock with a Greek immigrant. Ben idolized James Bond and Al Capone. He saw himself as a hybrid of both men. His job at Chimera involved elements of both. Ben walked like Bond, attempted to act like Bond, and had the mobster ambition like Capone. In his mind, he nailed it, but in reality it came off as trying too hard. The guys would tease him and tell him that he should be Scarface instead because of his old injury. He would quickly correct them and make sure they referred to him as Capone instead because he was the greatest ever to do it, according to Ben. He was sensitive to their taunts, and he felt at times as if he was being bullied.

  Bernie also served as a counselor to Ben, who had substance abuse problems. Ben had attention issues as well as mood swings. His grandparents never sought help for these matters when he was a child. They did not want to come to terms with the fact that his mother may have passed on some of her mental-health issues to him. Ben never received a medical diagnosis, although most would consider him bipolar. He dealt with these problems unmedicated. His grandparents felt that seeking divine intervention would better help him. He used alcohol and drugs as a coping mechanism for his frustration, as he claimed that they made him concentrate and calm down. Bernie kept an eye on him, knowing a drug user would not make good snap decisions when it came to business affairs and bookkeeping. Bernie considered drugs a nasty business despite other families’ active partaking in those activities. Bernie wanted him to succeed, but Ben needed a lot of guidance.

  Ben had been jailed for drug dealing, robbery, and petty larceny, which supported his drug habit, and he also got into trouble while serving in the Army. Ben would claim innocence and say that he was just being profiled by law enforcement because he looked like a typical gangster. Bernie had to pull strings to have him released. One such incident involved Ben being arrested for sticking up a shopkeeper in lower Manhattan and beating him with a pistol. The case made it all the way to a jury trial. Bernie had to give kickbacks to several jurors to make sure they found Ben not guilty. Bernie paid some of them off immediately, and others he promised to pay off later. Ben was in charge of making sure the people who helped him maintain his freedom received compensation.

  Ben shadowed Bernie in many of his actions on and off the field. Ben was very sensitive about Bernie’s criticisms of him. Bernie was not mean to Ben, but if he thought Ben’s drinking or actions became a distraction, he would curb him. If Bernie thought Ben was falling off the wagon, he would scorn him. The comments hurt Ben, but he understood why Bernie was criticizing him. If anyone else told Ben something in the same realm, even if it were for his own good, he would tell them to go fuck off. Ben treated Bernie like a father. Ben’s desire to inherit Bernie’s empire provided the driving force behind his work at Chimera. He wanted to be the one to bring the group to the number one spot. He had always admired the well-known Mafia groups in New York and other cities, and he felt that his Italian heritage was the key to bringing the group higher. The Cosa Nostra in New York was heavily embedded in Sicilian culture and history. They viewed outside groups as frauds and invaders of their culture. Bernie wanted to see Ben succeed, and he would often pull Ben aside for talks. Bernie used his past experiences as a way to get to Ben.

  “Benjamin, I want you to listen to me. Stop fooling around. It’s time to straighten out. Start planning your future. I won’t always be here to bail you out,” Bernie would often tell him.

  “I know, I know,” Ben would answer.

  “You are causing too many problems, unnecessary problems, all over the place. Here is how you will fail. Control yourself. Jail isn’t Neverland,” Bernie told him.

  “I’m listening. I promise. I am not going back to jail. I cannot fai
l. I’m here,” Ben said.

  “Make your promises count. Bernie knows; don’t argue.” Bernie ended.

  Ben walked with a sense of entitlement, and he felt that his fellow associates were secretly holding him back. Because of this, Ben continued with his drug use but hid it cleverly from the others in the group. He went from using lightweight drugs such as cannabis, which was popular at the moment, to taking harder narcotics when he enlisted in the army. When he utilized them, he timed each hit so it would not affect his day job. He graduated from smoke to needles. Despite these issues, Ben was a team player for his protection, and he would be until it was no longer convenient for him.

  The number four man was Jerome Dexter. Jerome was a tall, dark-brown, slim black man from Harlem, New York. Jerome came from a two-parent home of respected members of the local community. Optimistic about his future, his family had sent him to college. His parents started saving for his education once they learned that his mother was pregnant with him. When other black middle-class families were fleeing Harlem for Queens and other boroughs with better education and housing, the Dexter family stayed and saved their money for their investment in Jerome.

  Jerome was smart enough to succeed, but he felt that his overbearing parents pushed him into things that he did not want to do. He never had a say in his future. They wanted him to be a scientist because his father, James Dexter, who worked at the Freedom National Bank, felt that the community needed representation that resembled them, and science was the future. He could be a great inventor, they hoped. Jerome was bored with furthering his education by the time he graduated from high school, of which he was valedictorian. He attended Fisk University, but because of a lack of discipline and a penchant for the southern women in Tennessee, he flunked out.

  Disappointed in his outcome, Jerome’s parents made him leave the family home to fend for himself, and he had to do so until he got his act together. Jerome slept on various friends’ and relatives’ couches and maintained odd jobs to support himself. At one such job, he worked as a busboy at a diner on 116th Street, where he met John, a gentleman who was already working for Chimera. They hit it off immediately, and John, feeling that Jerome could be a good subworker for Chimera, sent him to drop off a package. John promised that if he did so and made it back safely, he would receive a generous reward. Jerome did not know what John meant by that, but because he needed the funds, he decided to do the job. That package turned out to be a bomb, which he delivered at a rival’s doorstep. It was a Trojan-horse attack. Bernie had friends that were connected to the Weathermen, and he asked John to find someone to do the job. Bernie did not want to put any of his people at risk.