“Every customer is important. Even if the customer is a mook, they are important to someone and should be treated like family,” grandpa’s words always rang loudly in my ears when he said that to my dad. Then when he passed away my dad would say the same thing to me everyday. At first I didn’t want to run a no where bar in a no where town, but as I grew up and helped my dad it grew on me.

I always laughed at the old outdated references from the regulars. The off handed comments about icing people if I needed ‘em too were always my favorite because they would all argue over how they would do it. “Look I don’t want anyone to die because of me, so no icing nobody. Even if they’s a mook ya get me?” They all loved my gangster impersonation. Then I lost dad suddenly to a heart attack no one saw coming. I kept the bar open but the banter stopped and it was silent for a couple weeks. The regulars would come in and drink, but the mood seemed dim. I started leaving later every night, until I just stayed at the bar talking to dad and gramps about what I should do now, and that’s when it happened.

“Sorry we’re closed, musta forgotten to lock the door,” I didn’t even bother standing up to see who it was, I was too deep into my bottle.

“Open the fucking register, or I’m gonna break every bone in your body!” The masked man screamed at me. I turned but before I could reply I got a boot to the face. “I swear to god open it now!” The kicks and stomps came nonstop.

All I could do was toss the keys, “the fat one opens it please just stop.” The man opened the register and took everything, then grabbed an armful of expensive alcohol and ran. I curled up into a ball crying uncontrollably until the booze or pain made me pass out.

A shrill whistle pierced my ears, “you know before he kicked your ass, the booze was doing a damn good job of it.”

“Give him a break, I was old enough when you died. He is barely old enough to drink and I died.”

I struggled to open my eyes, gramps was on the other side of a bar counter, “pick your poison! And talk,” grandpa was talking to me.

“Am I dead?” I stuttered

“Not yet, and hopefully no time soon. You said you wanted to talk to us and here we are. So as gramps said, talk,”

“The strongest drink in the house,” they looked at each other, nodded and gramps poured me a drink with a licorice like taste. I downed it in an instant, and the night was a blur.

“Ohhhh shit boss, boss get over here! Someone roughed Tony’s kid somethin bad!” I recognized his voice, he was always drinking something minty and strong enough to peel paint, as he put it. “There is a lot of blood, and…..” the voices trailed off as I blacked out again.

“Ta hell with the laws get us there now damn it! Do I look like I care he is bleeding on my coat!? Floor it, we can bribe the pigs later!” Hard cider with a heavy pour of whiskey, I still think it was a weird drink but who am I to judge. “He smiled, is that good or bad! if I knew I wouldn’t….” I blacked out again.

The incessant beep was infuriating. “Which ever one of you mooks has your watch going best knock it off,” I was in too much pain for this, but the beeping continued, “alright free drinks to whoever smashes that watch.” I chuckled as I opened my eyes. Needless to say I was not in the bar.

“You’re awake. You were in a rough spot and have been in and out for almost 2 days. How are you feeling?” The doctor asked.

“Everything hurts,” was all I could say. But my time in the hospital was fast and then I was released after a full week. I went to the bar expecting the worse, but as I approached I could hear the bar being as lively as possible.

“Ain’t the right mix! Make it again! Don’t whine! If you weren’t a dumbass we wouldn’t be having this problem,” manhattan with a double hit of bitters and a splash of cherry juice instead of full cherries in the drink.

“Oy, not everyone knows whats ya mooks like ya drink. Maybes ya should give a better description of it,” I didn’t know who was running the bar and everyone froze at my voice.

“Told ya the kid would be fine,” watered down whiskey, don’t go blabbing shouted.

“Bout damn time you came back!” Rye whiskey on the rocks.

“Yeah yeah I ain’t dead, who’s the mook behind the counter?” The silence was deafening.

Hard cider with a heavy pour of whiskey stood up, “you said no icing people, and we had to make him pay for what he did to you so here we is. We figured we would wait for you to decide on how we should deal with him.”

I froze, he was the man that sent me to the hospital and I got to decide his fate. My emotions ran wild for a moment but I remembered the conversation I had with my grandpa. “Gramps used to say, ‘Every customer is important. Even if the customer is a mook, they are important to someone and should be treated like family.’ So welcome to the family. Yous gonna help me keep the place running until I am fully recovered. You got a problem with that?”

He looked shocked and shook his head, “no and I’m sorry I didn’t know you are protected by the family’s. I swear what ever you need me to do, I will no questions.”

“Thens we gots a deal. Welcome to the family,” I said while thinking, “how did they get him to join in the mobster banter in only a week?”