My Life with the God Father of BlackJack

Awaiting Frangelic’s arrival, as I baked in the sun, a root beer-colored Cadillac pulled up in front of her house. The driver of this beast commanded my immediate attention, and I stared holes through my dark shades at him as he slowly got out of his car. He turned, looked around, and spotted me. Our eyes met and it seemed we we’re locked in a vault--just the two of us--and then the verbal challenge began.

"So, who are you?" he asked, his eyebrows raised and those brown eyes staring right through me. I felt a rush just looking at him. As I stared into his dark, Italian face, a smile crossed my lips and I returned the question.

"Who are you?"

Our eyes were still locked, as if neither one of us was willing to give in. He decided to take the reins and tell me who he was.

"Franny’s brother. Who are you"?

Franny was Frangelica’s family’s nickname for her.

After a long pause, I looked up at him and said,

"Starr, her friend".

Here began the bantering that two strong-willed people can share in. He handed me a book, saying,

"Thanks", and abruptly walked off, dismissing me.

I wondered who he thought he was, dismissing me that way and yet my heart was racing and I knew that, from that moment on, my life would take flight to unknown territory.

Franny showed up shortly after he left. I had a big grin on my face. As she greeted me with open arms, she kissed me on each cheek.

"Starr, you look like the cat that swallowed the canary. What’s up"?

With a grin the size of Wyoming, I told her.

"I met your brother Francisco."

She smiled at me saying, "He’s good looking, isn’t he? All the women seem to love him".

I looked at her without smiling.

"Franny, I think he’s a real smart ass".

The next day was another busy day in Berkeley. I worked in a salon called The Sterling Hair. I was given an area of the salon we called the fish bowl as my workplace. The building, like most in Berkeley, was old, with strangely shaped rooms, one of which was my area. It protruded from the main part of the building out onto the sidewalk. It was shaped like a horseshoe enclosed in glass. I worked on a platform within this enclosure. It was there that life, as I knew it, began to change. Here in my glass cage waiting for clients I sat--exposed to the city and ready for what life had to offer.

One day, I saw this huge beast pull up in front of my window. My heart started to race, and I wanted to run and hide, but I couldn’t move. I was paralyzed with excitement that he was here. As he walked into the salon it seemed as if he owned the place. Time stopped.

Hold it! Let me figure this one out! What is it about this middle-aged man? What is it that has everyone enamoured? His attire is casual. Yes, he is handsome, but not with movie star looks.

So what was it, you ask? It was the spark in those dark, dark eyes of his.

As he entered the door of the salon, everything became so still you could hear a pin drop. His presence was one of both strength and calm at the same time. The hairdressers turned off their blow dryers, stopped cutting hair and all heads turned to him.

Our eyes locked again and I knew he had me in the palm of his hand before he even spoke. I wanted to know the mystery of Francisco.

As it turned out, the excitement of traveling and being in the limelight with him later on down the road was with me already, without my knowing what it was--that feeling of the power of being with someone like him.

Franny had told me that he played blackjack for a living. I had little or no knowledge about gambling, other than betting on the horses. My Dad taught me all I knew. He was a former jockey and loved the horses. Beyond that, I had given no thought to gambling one way or the other.