The Legend of Joey Trucks: The Accidental Mobster

by Craig Daliessio

  I was curious what Tommy’s take would be, since he had his own run-in with the seamy side of things in his lifetime. “You know how I feel about forgiveness and second chances, Cuz,” He said, “But Two-Flush Tony is a habitual offender where stuff like this is concerned. If you compare this to my situation, Tony is Nicky Bowties. No character.” Tommy was right in a lot of ways, but I was sort of hamstrung on this. “I hear ya, Tommy.” I said, “But he’s got kids and Mario wants to personally back it. So I think we’ll take the risk. Besides, he has to go and ask permission from the Old Man. That, in itself might cure him of his ills.” Tommy got a kick out of that.

  While we were still discussing Two-Flush Tony Leonetti and his gambling addictions, my cell phone rang again. This time it was local. I answered and the voice on the line identified himself as Jim Hodge. I had been expecting his call. I ran into someone in the Co-Op who saw us working on one of the new investment properties. They said they knew a guy who needed some work done, and asked me if we did construction work for anyone besides our own projects. I was in a hurry, and I didn’t have any of Tommy’s cards with me so I gave them my cell number and told them to call. The guy called me the next day and said his friend Jim was needing some work done and couldn’t get a decent bid from anybody locally. I thought that was odd, since there were a lot of guys out there and they were always looking to take on a job or two extra.

  Anyway, we’re standing in the garage and my phone rings and it’s this Jim Hodge guy. He introduced himself and asked me if I do concrete. “Do we do concrete?” I said with a laugh. “Well,” I said, “I have a lot of experience with concrete Jim, but I’m not actually in that end of the business. Tommy Fallone does all my concrete work for me. In fact Tommy does all my jobs. He runs a full crew and they are all very good at their work. Some of these guys have been in the business for generations. How about if I give Tommy your number and have him call you, and you just contract this job with him directly, fair enough?” Hodge agreed and we hung up.

  I turned to Hank and Phil. “Either of you guys know a man named Jim Hodge?” I asked? Milledge perked up and said that he knew about him. “Yeah, I know who he is. He owns a septic tank service. Honeydippers we call ‘em. He ain’t the kind of fella you want to do business with Joe. Unless you make him pay you in cash.” This was intriguing. “Yeah?” I asked, “It’s funny, I got a bad feeling talking to the guy, just felt like I was dealing with a weasel, you know?” Hank chuckled, “Calling Jim Hodge a weasel is an understatement.” He said. “Here’s the thing…” Hank sat his beer on the workbench, and a slight grin came over his face as he told me the story. “Hodge was a very successful businessman at one point. He’s a smart guy, and resourceful He owned a huge, nationwide title company. He was doing title work for every major mortgage lender and most of the real estate franchises. He was worth millions! But he was a greedy, unethical bastard and it finally caught up with him when the mortgage industry collapsed a few years ago. They did some digging and he had even been ripping off his own employees. They were doing illegal title recording, writing titles on properties that had liens on them that he ignored. Why, he was as crooked as a barrel of fish hooks.” Hank said that with a snicker and I have to admit, the phrase made me laugh. “I’ll have to remember that one.” I said. “So what happened to him?” I asked.

  Hank continued; “He lost everything as far as the business is concerned. I heard he had over two thousand folks working for him and they all wound up without jobs too. Like most shrewd men who do things crooked, he took care of himself just fine. He kept his house, but the government seized his assets. He couldn’t restart his business, because he is still under investigation, so he did the only thing he could do. His daddy had been a septic tank serviceman and a good one too. They had one truck, and old Hodge took it out of mothballs and started servicing septic tanks.”

  Phil piped in with his dark commentary; “He went from shittin’ on everybody else to sucking everybody else’s shit. It’s poetic irony if you ask me.” I was going to correct Phil about the poetic irony thing, but I thought it might only serve to strain the already edgy relationship we have. Hank picked the story back up from here. “He’s just about the most miserable man alive now.” Hank said. “He ain’t but about five feet six to begin with, so you got that Napoleon thing going on. But now he spends his days sucking out septic tanks and smelling like turds, and half the time he gets it on himself ‘cause he never had to actually work for a livin’ before and he doesn’t really know how to use the machinery. You know how folks always say there are certain people who fall in a pile of poop and come out smelling like a rose? Well old Jim Hodge just went from roses to poop, and if you ask me, it serves him right.”

  My son Petey looked at me and laughed, and said; “Gee dad, maybe you should introduce Jim Hodge to Two-Flush Tony. He got the giggles after that and I said, “Okay you two, let’s get back to work on your mom’s truck. “Hank, Phil, thanks for the information.” Turning to Tommy I said, “Cuz he’s your job if you want it. You have the crew for concrete work, not me. But if it sounds like you might want to get paid in cash before you start.

  Hank and Phil looked at each other for a minute and then we went back to gapping the spark plugs on Angie’s truck. I looked at my boys, who were still cracking up about Tony Leonetti and said; “You two think you can hold it together long enough to help me finish this, or is TwoFlush gonna keep you laughing the rest of the night?” This made them laugh even harder as they got up on the stools to lean in and help me work on the truck. Petey looked at Jack and said “Maybe this Hodge guy could put his poopsucker on Two-Flush-Tony’s big butt and see if he can clog that too!”

  This began a fresh wave of giggles and laughter and I have to admit, I laughed too.

  Milledge and Lowery were silent from that point on. But being busy with the car, I hardly noticed. We finished installing the new plugs and wires and I crawled under the truck with my boys to teach them how to change oil. I guess the neighbors thought this was a good time to head out, so they said their goodbyes and disappeared into the evening. Once we got done with the oil, the boys and I washed our hands and I said it was time to test it out. I tossed the key to Pete and told him to “Start her up.” His eyes went wide. “Yeah, go ahead. You don’t pump the gas or anything, just turn the key and she’ll start.” Petey jumped in the driver’s seat and adjusted it to his liking. He did just like I told him and the Escalade fired on the first turn. “She sounds perfect, boys!” I said. I shut the hood and walked to the open driver’s side door. “Okay Pete, now back her out, slowly.” A huge grin enveloped Petey’s face. “Really Dad?” “Yeah sure,” I smiled back at him, “Just go slow. Put your foot on the brake and pull the selector down to “R.” Pete did just as I told him. “Good, now take your foot off the brake and just let the engine idle back it out. No need to touch the gas pedal yet.” Pete was smiling so much I think his face hurt. He very carefully creaped the big SUV out of the garage and stopped when he had cleared the doors. “Excellent!” I yelled. “Now, put the selector back in “P” and set the parking brake, then turn the key off when you’re done. Petey did it like he’d done it before and he got down out of the truck looking like he was six inches taller.

  “Dad that was awesome!” He exclaimed, “Uncle Tommy, did you see that?” Petey was beside himself. Tommy looked at me with a smile and winked, and told Petey, “When your dad and I were your age, your grandfather would take us to the yard where the garbage trucks were stored and let us practice driving The Crusher around. We had a blast, your dad and me.” I laughed out loud at that. “Wow, I forgot about that. We would all do that. You, me, Skip, Dominucce, and Mark. I remember Uncle Tony coming by once and warning us not to get too good at it or the Old Man would make us all work for him. Tommy laughed, “Yeah. You remember the time we took turns working the compactor and the hydraulic hose blew out?” I smiled at that. “Yeah, I remember that. Zippie got so pissed at the broken hose and my father w
as afraid to tell him that it was us boys down there playing around with the Crusher so he told him that he had done it. Zippie made him pay for that out of his own pocket.” Tommy got stone faced. “You never told me that. “Yeah,” I said, a little somber, “Zippie could be a giant jerk sometimes.” I’d forgotten how my dad ran interference for me that day. It made me appreciate him a little more.

  I turned to my sons; “Okay you two, wash your hands and get inside. We’re done out here.” The boys responded with a predictable “Aww dad…” but I stood my ground. I did throw them one bone though. “I think we need a project car to work on, so I can teach you how to work on all the other aspects of a car. How about we go looking for something next week?” The boys were gleeful and raced off toward the bathroom to wash their hands, and then into the house to get ready for bed. Wow, I thought, I’m talking about buying a car for the boys already. Time just races by.

  I was glad all over again for the blessing of this buyout.

  Not many dads get to spend the time I do with my kids.

  I’m a blessed man.

  Phil Makes His Case

  “You heard it yourself this time, Hank!” I whispered to Milledge as we walked into my garage. “You heard it!” I was poking my finger in Hank’s chest just a little bit. “You heard that man talking about loan sharking and mobsters owing money!” Hank scratched his head. “Now hold on there, Phil,” he said, “We don’t know that was a loan sharking call. What if old Joe just loans people money from the goodness of his heart?” I couldn’t believe Hank still doubted the evidence. “Hank,” I continued, “He said he was charging him ‘vig’, nobody calls it that unless they’re in the mob!” “Well now how do you know that, Phil?” he asked me. “Because I heard it on the Sopranos!” I wasn’t even gonna argue with him this time. “Come on, Hank,” I said, “We’re going inside and I’ll prove it too you.”

  We walked inside my house and Gladys met us at the door. “Well isn’t that nice,” Gladys said as I walked in, “You got some nice tomatoes from Joe, and early in the season too. That’s such a sweet thing.” “Don’t you even think about touching these tomatoes, Gladys!” I barked, “They’re poisoned and you know it. That man has no shame I tell you, no shame!’ Gladys looked at me wide-eyed. “Phil, what the heck are you going on about?” she asked. I didn’t feel like repeating the conversation I had with Hank, an hour later for Gladys, so I grabbed her arm.

  “Gladys, do you know what your sweet, lovable Joe Mezilli is into? He’s a loan shark! We just heard him on the phone, probably with one of his goons. He was talking about some poor sucker they were thinking about loaning money too. Whoever the poor guy was, they had already loaned him money before. You’d think he’d of learned his lesson!” “Phil,” Gladys said, kind of irritated, “What the heck are you talking about?” “Gladys,” I said, “Let me tell you what happened. What I heard him say with my own ears. And what Hank here heard with me”

  I checked out through the blinds to see where he was. After what I heard, he might be trying to kill me right this very moment. “Gladys I was returning his chainsaw sharpener...” “The one you borrowed last November, Phil?” Gladys interrupted. Always letting the air out of my balloon, I don’t know why. “Yes Gladys,” I hissed, “that one.”

  “Anyway, Hank and I walked it over to his garage ‘cause I seen him inside there on the phone. He talks on the phone in the garage a lot, I noticed that.” “Maybe it’s just that you’re a nosy Nate and you always go over there when you see him on the phone.” Gladys said with a smirk. “Why are you always against me on this, Gladys?” I asked, “I’m trying to save this town and you’re doggin’ my every step.” Gladys crossed her arms and sat back in the couch. “As I was sayin” I began, purposefully, “I was over there with Hank, and Joe was working on his wife’s big old Escalade with two of his boys, teaching them to tune up a car. So we chit-chatted for a while and then his phone rang and I heard him say that he was considering a loan to some guy who had ‘collections issues’. Joe didn’t want to do it, and neither did his buddy Tommy, he was there too. Anyways he calls the guy back and agrees to the loan but he has to pay interest and he has to go visit with Joe’s father…the kingpin of the family. They’re gonna put a lien on his house, and they’re gonna hit the poor man up for extra points because he’s a risk. That’s what they call the interest you pay a loan shark, Gladys. They call it points.” I paused, “Points,” I said again for emphasis, then turning to Hank I said; “And ‘vig’”

  Gladys sat with her mouth hanging slightly open. I could tell that she didn’t believe me. “He’s not a loan shark, Phil.” she said emphatically. “Oh yeah?” I asked her, “How do you know that? You heard what I just told you. How can he not be a loan shark?” Gladys stood up and walked toward the kitchen. “Because the man is worth about forty million dollars, Phil. Why would he be concerned with making a few thousand dollars off of some loan shark deal when he already has that much?” Gladys was very smug when she told me this. I instantly wondered how she’d found out this much information. “How do you know this, Gladys? Who told you?”

  Gladys sat down at the kitchen table and I sat across from her. “Because I went on the internet and looked it up.” she said, rubbing it in like a child on the playground. “What do you mean you looked it up?” I asked. “Simple,” she says, speaking between sips of her coffee, “I did some research on him. Found out some interesting things too.” She was smiling coyly, like she enjoyed playing me for a fool. She knew I was reaching my limits. “I went on the internet and I researched his name. That’s all Phil. It wasn’t hard. There were some newspaper articles about him and his family business. How he made his money and all. He’s a very nice man, by all accounts.”

  “By all accounts?” I asked incredulously. “Gladys, didn’t you see the part in The Godfather where they had a newspaper reporter on their payroll and they floated the story about the cop that Michael Corleone killed being mixed up in the mob? Those people have their own PR firms, just about.” None of that sunk in. Gladys paid it no mind. “All I know,” she continued –sounding annoyed at me for doubting her- “is that his family was involved in the waste management business and he sold out to a big conglomerate and a year or two later they moved down here. See Phil, he had a completely legitimate business.” I had to sit down. The kitchen was spinning. My head felt light. I saw stars. I looked at Gladys, who was blurry around the edges, and said “Gladys, did you hear what you just said?” She sipped her coffee and shrugged. “No, Phil, what’d I say?” “Gladys, don’t you know that ‘waste management’ is the codeword for being in the mob? Don’t you remember that Tony Soprano fella was in ‘waste management’? They all say they’re in ‘waste management’ Gladys. It’s their cover story.”

  Gladys slurped her coffee. I hate when she does that. Forty-four years of marriage and she still does it, and I still hate it. It usually means she ain’t listening to me. I stood up and went to the living room. I got my box set of The Sopranos and popped in the episode where Tony loans Hirsh some money. He charges him interest. He calls it “vig” plain as day. “Come on in here, the both of you!” I called out to Hank and Gladys. They dutifully walked into the living room and I played the scene where he talks about the interest. “There! You see!” I said, looking at Hank. “He called it ‘Vig’” Hank leaned back in the chair. “Phil all that means is he uses the word. Maybe he watched The Sopranos too.” Hank was trying to get Joe off the hook again. “Or maybe,” I replied, “It means Joe is in the mob!” “Gladys,’” I barked, “Look at the box for season one. Read the description.” Inside the case for the first season, there was a sheet that showed the plot line for each episode. “It’s right here in the very first episode, Gladys. Right there, read it.” She read the line I pointed to quietly, she was mutterin’ it but her lips was movin’ I saw her eyes get wide when she got to the part that said that Tony was the boss of a Waste Management company but that it was a front for the mob. She dropped the
paper on the table. “Phil!” she gasped, “You really think he’s in the mob?” For a fleeting moment I felt sorry for Gladys. Then I remembered I’m married to her. “Yes Gladys,” I said triumphantly, “The man. Is in. The mob.” Gladys ‘hand trembled as she placed her cup on the table. “Well...what’re we gonna do?” she said meekly. “I’m working on a plan Gladys. But you gotta keep this quiet. I can’t expose this man if he finds out we’re onto him.” I should have known better. Gladys can’t keep a secret at all. I thought maybe the gravity of this situation would work to keep her quiet, I found out later that I was wrong. Very wrong. She’d called her cousin Stan, our Sherriff, the very next morning and Stan called me to tell me to “mind my own damned business!” This town’s safety is my business, Stan. I thought, And if you won’t take care of this mobster…dammit man I will!