Page 57 of Johnny

power don’t need to bribe others with money to get what they want. They ask, they receive.

Inside the Way though, well… if one of the contributors got out of line and, for instance, refused to

pay me one month, I could handle that myself. Beat them up, make them agreeable, hurt them. Or I

could call a number, leave a message on a phone, and my problem child would fall back in line and

become part of the solution or be taken out of the equation all together.

But even within the Way I’m just a fuckin’ banker. If I ask for a favor from some higher-up, unless it

has something to do with the money I collect every month, they’re gonna tell me no.

Every time, they’re gonna tell me no.

I could ask them to leave Jesse and Joey alone, and maybe they even agree to my face. But it’s a lie

and nothing more. They give no fucks about me or my brothers. They give no fucks about how I feel. They give no fucks about anything other than the projected results they’re currently aiming for.

That’s the extent of my real power.

When it comes to anyone outside of the Way, well… I don’t even bother dealing with people

outside the Way. If I do, the wrong kind of assholes start to take notice of me. Assholes like

detectives, and judges, and politicians. Not that the Way wouldn’t take care of that shit real quick—

they would. I’m not going to prison for anything.

But if my name started popping up in police stations and city council meetings, the Way would just

cut their losses with me and move on to Joey.

So I just toe the fuckin’ line.

Everything about me is just an illusion. Deep down I knew this long before my father died. Hell, I

probably knew it long before my uncle died.

So why did I buy in to it?

Secrets are seductive motherfuckers.

They make you feel special. They make you feel included. They make you something more than

what you really are.

Of course, the seduction wears off. For all of us. That’s the way for all things. Cars. Homes.

Relationships. Careers. Luxury items like boats, and jewelry, and trips to fancy places. The first time

you fly first class. The first time you fly private. The first time you meet the President. The first time

you kill someone. The first time you see nine zeros in your bank account.

The first time is always special, just like the first secret.

But every seductive secret comes with a whole bunch of fine print. Some of it so small you don’t