Chapter 1 • Little Irish

Hell’s Kitchen, New York 1955

He remembered it so clearly. He could still feel Joey Pica folding the hundred dollar bill into his pocket, feel Joey’s manicured fingernails buttoning the flap down over top of it. The bill was so new it was warm in his pocket, so crisp he could hear it crinkle when he bent at the waist. Joey introduced him as the ‘Little Irish.’ They all laughed as if it didn’t matter. They told him he looked like a strong young man. Joey took him aside later that night, after they’d emptied the champagne bottles and taken everything but the linen off the tables. He asked Joey about the old man.

“He’s going to take you away,” Joey said. “He wants to take you to England. So what if you have to suck his dick? You’d be a fool not to go. He’s going to show you the world.”