ANOTHER ADVENTURE (Book Excerpt)

September 27, 2018 by CS Devereaux

CS Devereaux

… I waitressed at a little sandwich shop near my home called Tony’s. It wasn’t much, but it was a job. Tony was sleazy, and his large hands found their way to my posterior a lot. This morning, as soon as I arrived, he sent me to the market to buy a box of lettuce for the store.

Comito’s Market at 3rd and Franklin was in the middle of little Italy. Though I’d never shopped there before, I was no stranger to the neighborhood. You see, I had a crush on Sammy Damiano. I looked for reasons to walk down his street, hoping to run into him, though he hardly gave me the time of day. He was the best-looking boy in town and a member of the Comito Crime Family.

Everyone in Reading knew the Comitos. Their legitimate business was groceries and produce. Their other businesses controlled illegal numbers games, racketeering operations and bordellos. Sammy’s father, Santo Damiano, Sr., was a notorious mobster married to one of the Comito sisters. Sammy’s grandfather worked for the infamous Tony Moran, rumored, to have been involved in Moran’s white slavery operation in the ’30s and ’40s.

The activities of this family mesmerized me and I followed any gossip I heard about them. In a moment, I would step inside their place of business.

A bell on the front door announced my entry into the empty store. The old wood floor creaked as I snailed across it, letting my eyes adapt to the light.

I absorbed every detail: Dust motes flickered through shafts of sunlight. Assorted aromas filled the air as I let my fingers glide over bins of oranges and pineapples. Cured hams and pepperoni hung over a gleaming deli counter filled with a variety of meats and cheeses while fresh bread lay in a bin nearby. Canned goods lined the back wall with perfect precision, while burlap sacks of flour and grain leaned against each other.

I hoped to find Sammy there, but, of course, he was in school. I unbuttoned my heavy wool coat.

“It’s okay, Pa, I got it!” A man appeared from the storeroom. He was several inches taller than me and had been quite handsome when he was younger. He beamed a perfect smile in my direction.

“What can I do for you today, young lady?” Leveling sparkling cinnamon eyes on me, he sauntered my way, giving me an appreciative once-over, head to toe. I felt naked under his gaze and stammered, “I-I need a dozen heads of lettuce.”

“A dozen? That’s a lotta salad,” he smiled.

I smiled back, enjoying the attention. His disarming banter set me at ease. I paid with the money Tony gave me from the cash register, and then he introduced himself. Frank Comito.

I knew who he was. Frank’s older brother, Fonzie Comito, had a nightclub on Cherry Street called the Calabria Club. Acting as Fonzie’s right-hand man in the club, Frank followed his orders. He often chauffeured patrons from Philly to Reading for a night of illegal gambling. I’d heard he went to prison for armed robbery a few years before but didn’t know the details.

He offered to carry the cumbersome lettuce box back to the restaurant. I accepted, both pleased and grateful. “Thanks. I’m Charlotte, Charlotte Landis.”

We headed toward Tony’s place and, my shyness conquered, I asked him about doing prison time.

“Yeh, got sent up for twenty years,” he admitted. “They let me out after five for good behavior.”

The Comito Family had the law in their pocket. Frank’s older sister, Frances Comito Smith, was the first woman bail bondsman in America and a tough cookie who knew the art of making a deal. She also ran the Comito Family and did so with an iron hand.

Frances (everyone knew her as Frannie) answered to Abe Minker, who everyone called “The General”. He was the boss of the Reading mob, and the Reading mob was powerful, equal to the Chicago mob in its day.

We strolled the few blocks back to the restaurant, Frank chattering while I tested my best flirting techniques on him. I was giddy with excitement. Here I was, just seventeen, and walking down the street with a gangster! Imagine me talking to a convicted criminal! I stretched my five foot two inch frame taller and held my head high.

He seemed harmless enough in the bright light of day, even charming.

Two blocks later, he asked me out. I turned him down as I had never been on a proper date before. How proper could this date be, considering our age difference?

Frank insisted, “Come on, Charlotte, go out with me. We’ll have a great time. I’ll take you for a drive to the mountains. It’s beautiful in the mountains. Peaceful. Clean. Waddaya say, how ‘bout it?”

I hesitated, not sure how to respond. He was married... but I didn’t know his wife. (I wouldn’t go if I knew his wife.)

Frank changed the subject as we approached the back door of Tony’s Restaurant. “Why you working in this joint? A classy lady like yourself can do better! And Tony... he’s a real sfacimm. You gotta watch out for that guy.”

“Huh,” I said under my breath. Head bowed, I kicked an imaginary stone out of the way.

Frank grabbed my arm a little too tight and shoved his anger-twisted face close to mine. “Did he touch you? Did he?”

Surprised and intimidated, I gazed into his eyes. Daggers pierced my soul and, for an instant, something terrifying revealed itself. As the moment passed, I could do nothing but stand there, slack jawed. Why did this guy care what happened to me? I was confused, yet flattered.

Fact was, Tony did more than touch me; he took advantage of me sometimes when we were alone. His hands were like rough mitts on my body and they disgusted me. Ashamed, I told no one. Why bother? Who would do anything about it? And I needed the job.

The back door slammed open. It was Tony, and was he ever pissed!

“What is this, a party?” he bellowed. He glared at me. “What took you so long? Get to work!” He motioned toward the dining room with one of his hands. “I got customers waitin’! And you,” he said, pointing at Frank, “you get outta here—suscia!” Tony wrenched the box of lettuce from Frank’s arms and turned to go inside.

Undaunted, Frank responded with an epithet, placed fingers to his chin and flipped him off, Italian style.

I loved it!

“Okay!” I said. “I’ll meet you at the market on Saturday!”

Hurrying through the door, I gave Frank a final look over my shoulder. He grinned and winked, hands stuffed in his pockets.

Yes, today was different. Today was a day for taking chances! Adrenalin pumping, heart swimming in untested emotions, I was smitten.

If he had a wife and kids, I wasn’t concerned. (He had both.) Frank was funny and a little dangerous. No one had cared about me before; not my parents, no one. Then, out of the blue, this man, Frank Comito, changed everything.

Had I seen my destiny, I might have run away as fast as I could. But caution has no name in the flush of love. I soon discovered, however, when a girl thinks she’s got hold of something exciting, she’d better watch out.

By the time the crocuses pressed their purple heads through the frozen earth, life grew inside my belly—I was pregnant with Frank’s third child.

My life would never be the same.

Excerpt from Another Adventure, The Life Journey of Charlotte Comito