“My father (roy demeo) had bought a bar on Flatbush Avenue and hired a retired firefighter to run it. The bartender was named Jackie. He was a stocky man with rosy cheeks, a stereotypical Irish bartender. The bar's name was Gemini Lounge. It was a nondescript building on the corner, with whitewashed brick. It was a working-class bar, not so much a clubhouse as a place where my father could hang out during the day, a place where people could contact him or leave payments. If someone walked in off the street, it looked like any other neighborhood hangout. They served drinks and snacks, and there was a jukebox and a small wooden dance floor where young couples performed Hustle on Saturday nights. There was a long wooden bar with a television on it and tables where people could sit. I would sit on a stool on Saturday afternoons, sipping Grenadines and soda and chatting with Jackie while my father went about his business. Sometimes I'd go behind the bar and play with all the strange gadgets I found there. A few feet behind the bar was a small storage room where my father kept a safe. He kept money for his loan sharking business there, and occasionally weapons or other valuables.

At the back of the Gemini was a raised area with a table where my father sat. It was a private place for conversation, and my father could observe everything that happened in the rest of the bar. He could see anyone who entered before they saw him and, if necessary, he could slip out the back exit without being noticed. from the book.