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Sean Falcon

04-17-2015, 09:37 AM


Date: Thursday, April 16, 2015
Place: Excalibur Hotel & Casino
Location: Atlantic City, New Jersey



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My job as Consigliere to the Boss of the Castellano Family is to advise the man on all of his critical decisions. It is almost without precedent that a man like myself would even find himself in this position. Mafia families, while not really a secret, still try and keep a low profile whenever possible. To have an outsider like myself in such a high position must be unsettling to some, maybe even many, of those within the syndicate. And not even just in the Castellano Family. I'm not a Catholic even though I was raised as such. I'm more Irish than Italian, even though I do have an Italian last name. There is a code within the syndicate and I don't really fit that code.

Yet, here I am. The man that has the ear of probably the most feared organized crime boss since his own uncle, Paulie Castellano. Were you expecting me to say John Gotti? Dominic Castellano is a bit of a ticking time bomb, and I've noticed that behavior rubbing off on me. Anyhow, even mentioning the name John Gotti in front of Dom could get clipped in short order. In Dom's mind, Gotti was a gutter rat and nothing more. In fact, each year on the anniversary of Paul Castellano's death, Dominic takes a trip to the cemetery, just to urinate on John Gotti's grave.

At any rate, in having the ear of the notorious Dominic Castellano, I have ways of communicating with him things that could create an income source. In fact, the beginning of the drug trade that caused the bitter war within the Castellano Family, was not my idea, but I knew it was a good one. Castellano was beyond pissed that his underboss went behind his back and without approval before jumping into that game. But he trusted me. I don't know why, but he absolutely trusted my instincts as well as my judgment. After the war, Castellano started the drug trade anyhow.

The problem now, is that so much money was coming in that we couldn't possibly clean it all without the feds taking notice of all this money moving around small business fronts. With that in mind, about a month ago, we, and by we I mean Dominic Castellano acting on my advice, put in a rather large investment into a hotel and casino in Atlantic City. Of course, I suggested Las Vegas.

Today, we meet for a progress report.

Just as I finish a meeting with the incoming Pit Boss crew, I spot Mr. Castellano across the floor as he's eyeballing the grandiose surroundings. The failed Revel in Atlantic City was meant to be a five star resort, they failed. We won't. Especially after picking up the deed to the place for pennies on the dollar.

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I venture across the floor to meet him and we shake hands with enthusiastic smiles. ”So what do you think?” I ask him.

”Seanie this is amazing. I thought the grand opening wasn't for a couple of weeks yet and here you are with a full house,” he replies.

”Yeah well, the grand opening is a couple of weeks off yet. We've had the doors open for a couple of weeks now. Soft opening,” I reply.

”Look, Seanie, I know you're disappointed that I shot you down when it came to Vegas, but, what if I need you? What if I need your advice on the quick? You can make it from Atlantic City to Brooklyn in a couple hours. If you were in Vegas,” he pauses, ”it'd take you at least a half a day to get back. I hope you understand this.”

”Mr. Castellano, I do understand,” I reply.

”I ran into Sara at the market yesterday,” he begins as we take a leisurely stroll around the floor of the casino. ”She says you're goin' back to wrestlin',” he says with condemning tone.

”Sara speaks the truth. Look, Boss,” I begin as I pull him into an empty booth near one of the liquor bars. ”The fact is, you don't need me as much as you used to. The travel for the wrestling isn't as much as I did in the past. I'll leave on Sunday nights and be back by Tuesday mornings. I'll still be around a lot and besides, I don't trust anyone else to run this place,” I conclude.

”Forgive me, Seanie, I don't mean to excoriate your chosen profession, but c'mon, man! Wrestling? Professional Wrestling?”

I look down at the table, then back up at Dom, ”Boss, do you realize where I come from?” I ask him.

”Pittsburgh. It's a great a little city,” he replies.

”It's also a blue-collar town, Boss. The people there, they work tough jobs and sometimes more than one. They earn what little they have. Boss, I was born into wealth. I lost that wealth,” I begin.

”I know, Seanie. I know,” Castellano interrupts. ”And you're well on your way to earning it back just by workin' for me,” he states, almost pleading for me to reconsider.

”Yeah, I know. And don't think for even a second that I don't appreciate what you've done for me. Hell, what you've done for the entire Falconi family,” I start to explain, then look down at the table again. ”But the wrestling, Boss. It's fun. And I'm good at it. I didn't know I would be, but I am. Before I left that business I had nine matches. And do you know how many I won?” I ask. To which Mr. Castellano doesn't know the answer to and decides to say nothing. He just leans back against the booth. ”Seven. I was green as goose shit, Boss, and I won seven fucking matches out of the nine I had!”

”You pay me well, Mr. Castellano,” I say before being interrupted by the Boss.

”Seanie, please. Enough with callin' me Mr. Castellano. You've been workin' for me for two years now and our families go way back. Dom, Dominic, whatever you choose to call me. Just not, Mr. Castellano,” he concludes with a smile and a shake of his head.

”Sorry. You pay me well and I've recovered quite a bit of my lost fortune but its all...”

”Illegitimate,” he says, finishing my sentence. I nod in agreement. He leans forward again, resting his pudgy arms on the table, ”And this wrestling thing. It's so some of that recouped fortune can be legitimate,” he states with a smile.

I nod my head, ”yeah, basically.”

Dominic laughs and leans back again, ”Seanie, your father was on my payroll,” he admits, and much to my surprise.

”What?” I ask, still shocked at the revelation.

”I'll tell ya about it sometime. But the fortune he had and you lost, not all of it was legitimate,” he begins, then leans forward once more. ”I suppose you're askin' me to let you leave the Family.”

To that statement I have to interrupt him, which out of respect and admiration for him, I wouldn't normally do, ”No, absolutely not,” I reply to him emphatically. ”All I really want, Boss, is for you to stand behind me. Give me your blessing to do this,” I request of him.

At this point he pulls out his cell phone and waits for his call recipient to answer. ”Yeah, it's me. Send Sally in here. We're sittin' in a booth by the Atlantic Bar & Grille.”

”Sal? What do you need with him?” I ask, somewhat nervously.

”Well, Seanie,” he begins as he replaces his phone into his jacket pocket.

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The mountain of a man known affectionately as “Big Sal” walks up to the booth and nearly crushes me against the booth wall. Not purposely, of course. It's just that he is large and extremely powerful. ”You are an investment,” he finally continues. ”In fact you might be one of the best investments I've ever made. And I always protect my investments.

“If you want me to give you my blessing in this, then I'll give it to you on one condition,” he concludes.

”What is that condition?” I ask as I stare at Big Sal, pretty much already knowing the answer to that question.

”If you're gettin' yourself back in the wrestlin' business, Seanie,” he begins with a wry smile. ”Then Big Sal is goin' with you,” he concludes.

”Boss, you know me. I'd never let anyone hurt the little runt!” the burly big man with the bald tattooed head states with a big smile.

I'm six feet one inch and almost two hundred fifty pounds. I'm no runt. But, Big Sal? The man is about six feet six inches and has to be three fifty. He's actually a pretty nice guy. But that can change in an instant. The more I think about it, the more I like the idea of Sally accompanying me when I'm on the road for the XWF. ”Big Sal huh?”

”That's what they call me,” he says with an enthusiastic grin.

”Take it or leave it, Seanie. Either Big Sal goes with you to protect my investment, or you get no blessing from me,” states the Boss as he stands up from the booth and begins to make his exit.

”Boss,” I call out to him. He stops and comes back. ”You got yourself a deal.”

”Good. Then you have my blessing,” he replies. He then slaps Sal on the back, ”From here on out, you don't let Seanie out of your sight, understand?”

”Whatever you want, Boss,” replies the big man.
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