No One to Blame

I know it's been a while since I submitted anything here and I apologize.

This is a short introduction to a character I'm adding to the story.

If you've read the first two chapters then it should be easy to guess where in the plot Big Paul fits.

If I don't keep him in this story, I will probably give him his own story (spin off)

Feed back on this chapter is paramount so please comment!

The Tropicana hotel and casino, though somewhat awe inspiring at a glace, had definitely seen better days. The cigarette burned carpet on the casino floor showed decades of wear from excited gamblers running from table to table trying their luck, hoping the next game of chance will be the one that pays off big.

There was a time though when acts like Frank Sinatra, Tony Bennett and Rodney Dangerfield regularly performed here making the once jewel of Atlantic City the destination for high rollers from all over the world.

Getting a reservation in one of the casinos restaurants was as difficult as getting your kid into an Ivy league school. Most of those establishments were now replaced by chain restaurants like Applebee's, Dave & Buster's and, god forbid,TGIFridays.

The Tropicana also boasted a darker side to its clientele list. 50 years ago you couldn't throw a rock without hitting a "Wiseguy" or an "associate" from one of the five families. And if you thought that with all that known and unknown criminal element roaming the casino floor, celebrities would steer clear of this hotspot, you'd be dead wrong. On the contrary, the notoriety and an air of danger actually attracted them like the proverbial moth to a flame. And where celebrities flock to, so do paparazzi.

Many housewives would read the gossip tabloids and marvel at how their favorite celebrities were photographed in the casino with a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other. It was all so glamorous.

When those average hard working couples were planning their next vacation, the Tropicana was high on the list of where to go. But that was a lifetime ago.

Big Paul DeFazio, associate of the Falzone crime family, made his way over to the bank of elevators that would take all 350 lbs of him up to his office in the penthouse. His doctor would have preferred he take the stairs or at the very least spend some time in the casino's gym but Paul was accustomed to his size and carried it well. He moved with the agility and speed of a man half his weight. At 58 years of age he had been here in A.C for thirty years, though he wasn't always a bookie.

Born in Brooklyn New York, Paul was a true hustler dabbling in everything from loan sharking to extortion. He was even a successful fence, buying stolen merchandise from jewelry heists and rare coins from... well, from anywhere. But in time things would eventually catch up to him.

Paul put together a crew of wanna be gangstas that stuck up a jewelry store for about 30k in merchandise and 5k in cash. They got away with it and would have been fine if it wasn't for the weak link Tommy Farrell snitching out the rest of them when he was pinched for drug possession.

When the cops tried to get Paul to roll over on some made guys in his neighborhood, Paul laughed and said "Eat shit and die pig!" Five days later, after the bruises went away, the cops brought him before a judge.

When all was said and done he received a 5 to 15 year bid in Comstock prison (AKA Gladiator school) in upstate New York.

Once out of prison he got back with his old crew and went right back to his old ways. Word of his time in the joint and his ability to earn on the streets got him noticed by Nicky Capella, a made man, so Nicky C gave him his first real job for the organization and put Big Paul to work as an enforcer for a lone shark making collections.

When borrowers knew that a visit from Paul is what they could expect for missing a payment, they would rob their own mother to make the vig.

With his star rising, it wasn't long before Big Paul was working directly for Nicky Capella as his personal bodyguard.

Following Nicky around all day gave him insight to a world Paul had only heard of. You see his boss Nicky, though he had his hand in other money making ventures, was mainly a bookie for the Falzone crime family.

Working for Nicky, Paul learned about the point spreads and how an injury to a key player could alter the outcome of a game.

Nicky would talk sports with Big Paul all day and eventually learned to rely on Paul's understanding of the different games. Paul came to realize he was in his element when it came to sports betting.

His love for sports stemmed from when as a boy his father, a sanitation worker, would take him to either the "Garden" to see the Knicks or the Rangers or to Yankee stadium.

In highschool he was a three sport athlete, wearing the uniforms of football, hockey and basketball.

It was an injury on the football field that ended his playing days and made room for his criminal activities.

The moment the elevator doors opened, Big Paul could hear moaning coming from one of the back rooms. It wasn't the moans that a casino penthouse would normally produce, no these were the moans of failure.

Failure to execute an ill conceived plan, failure to cut their losses and leave town when they had the chance and failure to realize Big Paul might not be as big and dumb as his size suggested.

Kenny Holtz was a bean counter. He was recruited straight from campus ten or so years ago for his ability to see the numbers and find where the math just didn't add up. Kenny impressed Big Paul four years ago when he noticed one of the housekeeping staff making a multitude of micro bets against a particular team and driving the odds in the opposite direction. Another staff member would then place a substantial bet for the new heavily unfavored team. They would do this for over a dozen different games. Even though they would only win one out of three times, the wins heavily out weighed their losses. Even though they only profited in the hundreds of thousands, they cost "legitimate" gamblers and more importantly, Big Paul, millions. If it wasn't for Kenny's discovery the scheme would have went on for years. Eventually someone would have noticed and Big Paul would have taken the blame since he was responsible for all Falzone family gambling operations in Atlantic City.

"I'm highly disappointed Kenny. You were my bloodhound, the guy that keeps shit like this from happening in the first place. To tell you the truth, I wouldn't have even noticed if you hadn't gotten greedy. Trying to slip a 20k payout passed me and me not noticing is insanity on your part. So when did you get so stupid?" Big Paul asked from behind Kenny.

"I'm sorry boss! I...I f...fucked up but pl...please I'll make it u..." Kenny tried to get out but was cut off when a heavy plastic bag was placed over his head cutting off any excuses and oxygen Kenny was counting on delivering and receiving.

Big Paul removed the bag just before Kenny passed out.

"Oh you'll make it up to me but not in any conventional way. Remember when you first started here I had you sign a bunch of documents? Well one of those was a life insurance policy for 500k!"

A needle was produced and Kenny was held as the belt was placed around his arm. Knowing his fate Kenny desperately tried to fight what was coming but to no avail. A light dose of heroin was injected into his bloodstream which took effect immediately.

Two hours later Kenny was in the front seat of his BMW as it drove off of a cliff in the Appalachian mountains. Still unconscious from the heroin, Kenny never saw or felt a thing when his gas tank exploded on impact. A dozen roses and a box of chocolate for his girlfriend made it look like he intended to get home safe and sound, will dissuade anyone from calling this a suicide.

"The poor schmuck was probably burning the candle from both ends." Case closed, no foul play here.

Four weeks later, Jenny McDougall, an employee of the casino, received a life insurance payout of 500k which was then promptly turned to cash and handed over to Big Paul. With the skimmed money back where it belonged, life went on minus Kenny Holtz.

Uncle Sal just might have a hard time collecting his nephew Bobby's money.