Next few pages to my mafia thriller

          As Joe sits one his bunk he looks around his cell wondering if for some asinine reason he'll miss this place. After all this was home, and after a while you get used to it. He shrugs it off as just that, a thought he'll never think of again.

          The doors to his and the other inmates cells open. Chow is being served down around the block in a mess hall of sorts. After that Joe will have a few minutes to arrange for a ride from the prison the following morning.

          Still thinking of home Joe takes a few minutes to wait for the chow line to die down. Most of the inmates rush down to the line only to stand and wait for food. Holding off in his cell for a while was one way Joe could think of himself as normal, and not overly controlled by the prison system. When the lines shorten Joe can casually walk down to the chow line and get his food. It was a small victory every morning that he intended to keep until the end.

          Before he was locked up Joe was one of the biggest earners in the family. He focused on Hijacked trucks and card games that were run out of small apartments throughout the city. Just before his lock up the Marcuccio’s were given part of Atlantic City by the commission. The commission is the heads of the strongest families. They make the rules sort of like a governemnt for the mob.

          Floridas family had been disbanded by the FBI and couldn’t keep control of some casinos in Atlantic City so the commission took them away. They gave most of it to the New York Families but handed a few casinos to the Marcuccio’s because they had been very successful with there own small time casino’s. The commission saw an opportunity to get rich off the Marcuccio’s management skills and so far it had paid off. Fifteen percent of the profit the Marcuccio’s earned was paid back to the heads of the commission, and the money was rolling in.

          Joe gathered his phone numbers for the call after chow and began his walk down to the line for one last time. In the morning he would skip it and gather his stuff to leave hoping never to return. His cell is on the end of the top tier of the cell block. The block was in typical fashion a cold and dirty place with nothing but cement walls and bars. As he walked he felt a sense of happiness that he hadn’t felt in a long time. It was almost like the bars were gone and he was taking a stroll along the street in the old neighborhood.

“So this is it, one more day you son of a bitch.” A Gambino family soldier sneered as Joe walked towards him.

“Carlo, it's been a great stay but I think I’ll head home.” said Joe smiling as he shook his friends hand.

“Couple more years and we’ll both be back to tear up the town.”

“Look me up when you get out Carlo, we’ll do some business together.”

“That’s for sure my friend; we’ll make a killing.” Carlo, gave Joe the Italian tradition, a hug and kiss goodbye.

          Marty Tuppolio was a Vitale family soldier who was on the same row as Joe. The Vitale’s and the Marcuccio’s had bad blood on the outside. The feud had escalated to a dangerous level outside, but inside there was peace. Joe and Marty had agreed from the beginning of Joe’s stay that the feud on the outside had no place on the inside. This row had to stay close and watch each others back. Besides Marty was a lifer and didn’t give two shits about anything on the outside.

“Joe it's been a good trip. Take what’s yours on the outside and don’t let anyone take from you.”

“Back to old business Marty, if I see you again I hope I’m only visiting.”

          Joe shook Marty’s hand and kept on walking down the row to the stairs. Just below was the chow line and after that his phone call for a ride home tomorrow. Nothing else mattered at this point. He was finally going home.