Page 24 of Johnny

bunch of ass-kissers yanking his chain for the sake of favor with the head boss. But it wasn’t. Joey got a watch for graduation. I didn’t get a watch or a party. Just a new job in the family business.

It was always Jesse. He was always on their radar to do something… bigger. He was the charming

one. The adorable one. The baby.

I had my first panic attack the night of Jesse’s graduation party because this was when I knew they

were going after him. The Way would recruit him. He’d get sucked into this life and never get out.

Before he graduated high school Jesse was always a public fascination. His face was the one

people saw when our father did interviews for glossy magazines or cable financial channels. He was

tow-headed blond a lot longer than I was. Well into his teens. And his love of the ocean and the boats

made him glow from the sun.

He was, in a word, golden.

Before he turned eighteen Jesse had plenty of run-ins with the law and the paparazzi. His face was

a regular on covers of that nature. But it was small stuff. Crashed a car. Had a fight. Public

intoxication. Rehab at fifteen. Shit like that.

No one cared. Not really. Sure, they wrote nasty things about him, but it was the kind of bad

publicity that builds up an image, not brings it down.

So after I got over that first initial panic attack the night of his high school graduation I made a

decision. I made a conscious choice to ruin his chances. I called the paparazzi myself. I got his face

on every cover I could. I got him busted for drugs more times than I can count. I got him kicked out of

the yachting association he loved so much.

I not only ruined his chances, I ruined his life.

It was fucked up. I knew that back then and I still know it now.

But I’d do it all over again.

Because they lost interest in Jesse. The Way moved on to someone else’s little brother.

I kept track of all the little brothers the same way my father kept track of his contemporaries. It

wasn’t me who decided to plaster the windows on the top floors of the Bossy with news clippings. It

was my father. I just kinda kept it going after he died.

It was a reminder to him, I think. That bad things happen to those of us who fall out of line. That

every single one of us is replaceable.

I don’t kill people for a living.

Let’s be clear. I have killed people to stay among the living. But I don’t get paid for it, for fuck’s