Chapter 7
ROCCO “THE ROCK” ALBANO was sitting on a worn brown Barcalounger. A stained TV tray sat in front of him with a microwaved TV dinner and a can of Genesee beer. Rocco was five-five “and a half,” as he always pointed out, and about the same width. His hair was thinning across the front.
He stared at an old episode of Matlock while he ate the Salisbury steak and fake mashed potatoes. He picked up the beer and drank half of it in one gulp. This was the only time he didn’t have to think about collecting debts, cracking bones, or kicking up to his boss, Victor Ragu. This was his time to rest and kick back, forget about the outside world.
Albano was not born into the mob like a lot of the guys in Victor Ragu’s crew. Not like Junior Mancini, the golden boy. Or even Ragu, whose own fath
