“He didn’t listen. Two days ago, they found him in a basement. He didn’t make it.” Greg was silent; he wasn’t surprised. Zip was a lackey; he couldn’t live any other way. The lesson in the barn hadn’t stuck. The fear faded, and he went back to his old ways. A predictable end.
“Slim’s still in Kentucky, working that warehouse job, just like he said,” Monty continued. “Living quiet, even got married, I heard. He’s done with the life. The lesson you gave him… he’ll remember that until the day he dies.” “Good,” Greg said. “You regret it?”
“Regret what?” “That it turned out this way? That Vinnie had to go back inside? That Zip is gone?” Greg took a drag of his cigarette. “No. They chose their own paths. Vinnie broke the code; he had to answer. Zip didn’t change; he got what was coming.”
“Slim was smart enough to be scared. He learned. Everyone decides how to live, and everyone answers for it. You’re right, Ghost. Take care of yourself.” “You too.” Greg hung up, went out on the balcony, and looked at the sea. He thought about fate. Vinnie died in prison two months after his arrest.
Zip didn’t last a year. Slim survived because he broke at the right time and admitted his mistake. Three men came to a quiet town for easy money. Two died. One got a second chance. That’s how the law of the street works. Summer passed quietly, then autumn, then winter again.
Greg lived alone, worked, and kept his mouth shut. Sometimes he’d go to the diner, drink his tea, and listen to the news. He’d hear about who was in, who was out, which crews were rising, what wars were being fought. The underworld kept spinning. But Greg was no longer a part of it.
He remained a Chairman by status, but not by lifestyle. The crown remained, but the throne had long been empty. In 2013, he turned 54. His health was failing faster now. His back was in constant pain, especially in the mornings. He had few teeth left, and those he had were brittle.
His vision was going; he had to squint. The doctors at the local clinic just shook their heads. The toll of long-term incarceration. Greg would nod, take his pills, and keep living. He wasn’t one to complain. One evening in late 2013, he was sitting on the shore.
He watched the sea. The sun was setting, painting the water red. The seagulls were crying. He remembered. The prison, Oak Ridge. Vinnie knocking on the door. That day in the barn. Everything that happened had led him here. To the sea. To solitude. To a silence that wasn’t really silence anymore.
It was a result. A price. Greg realized then, once and for all: he’d done everything right. Vinnie got what he deserved. So did Zip. Slim got his second chance because he was smart enough to be afraid. And Greg himself? He just lived by his own rules.
By the code of honor. It had been his compass for 20 years inside. And it remained so until the end. The past doesn’t let go, but it doesn’t have to pull you back. It’s just there. Part of you. Like the ink on your skin that won’t wash off. Memories you can’t forget.
The crown isn’t a privilege or an honor. It’s a cross you carry until your last breath. Greg stood up from the bench and headed home. Tomorrow was another shift. Another night in the guard shack. Another night of silence. Another day of life. Simple, without chaos.
Exactly what he’d wanted six years ago in Oak Ridge. But the price had been high.
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