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Danny leaned over the playing field as he gripped the machine’s sides until his knuckles turned white, gnawing on the licorice vine.
“I’ll wipe your score off the face of the Earth, Jessie,” he vowed. “Even if it takes me all night.”
He rolled a quarter into the slot, and the game burst to life with flashing lights and its familiar tune. He brushed back his blonde locks, adjusted his cap, and closed his eyes—poised and ready to beat Jessie’s high score. He took his stance, held a deep breath, and pulled the spring plunger back. “I got this…” Danny whispered. He opened his eyes, smiled, and...
“Hey! Why you wanna waste your time on that thing?” Herbie boomed from across the room.
Danny shuddered and accidentally launched the ball.
“Whatabout that nice girl I used to see you go with?” Herbie continued. “That’s who you should be spending time with! Oh, I forgot to tell you, she came by and asked for you—said she wanted you to call her when you got off work. Why don’t you go call her now?”
“Because––I don’t want to, Uncle Herbie!” Danny snapped, watching with dismay as his game ball guttered.
Herbie huffed and puffed through his thick, dark mustache. “You mind your uncle, kid!”
Danny slumped, glancing at his uncle. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just been a long day.”
“It’s okay, kid.” Herbie smirked. “Listen, all I’m saying is—keep a pretty girl waiting, and she won’t be your girl anymore. You should settle down. She’s a nice girl—listen to your uncle.”
“Who, Janice? Nah, she’s foxy and all, but she’s a hot dog stand. That was justa—you know...”
“Awww, whata shame, such a nice, pretty girl. When you gonna find a nice girl to love and settle down? You’re almost eighteen!”
“I don’t really want anything serious right now.”
“All I’m saying is, there’s better ways of sorting yourself out than wasting away on pinball.”
“It’s just a game, Uncle.”
“Justa game? Lookit what it’s doing to you now! You were ready to collapse a minute ago, and now you’re glued to that thing. These machines are designed to ensnare people—they’re traps, kid!”
Danny sighed and shook his head as his uncle rambled on, his patience fraying with every word.
“…and video games? Even worse! They turn kids into zombies, mindlessly feeding quarters into ’em. Who knows what’s staring back at you inside them screens?”
“C’mon, you can’t be serious, Uncle.” Danny rolled his eyes.
“I’m dead serious!” Herbie leaned forward, his voice dropping. “Maybe it’s evil spirits or something, creeping inside and taking hold of people. A ghost in the machine—you never know. Bad things happen, Danny—especially at the place next door. They say it’s cursed—some sorceress or enchantress laid a hex on the place years back. You mark my words, stay away from that arcade. One day, Pandora’s Box is gonna open there, and I don’t want you caught in the middle!”
“Oh, that’s ridiculous; that fear stuff is just brought on by your Catholic superstitions.”
“Don’t blaspheme, kid!”
“Okay, okay––sorry. Geez.”
“Look at me, Danny. I’m not telling you what to do—I just don’t trust them video games or the place next to my restaurant.”
Danny sighed heavily. “I don’t even care about video games, alright? All I care about right now is beating that guy’s high score. You wouldn’t understand, but it’s something I just gotta do—alright?”
“Y’know,” Herbie said, “I understand better than you think I do. Maybe I should’ve had this talk with you sooner. All that mess with your dad’s got you tied up in knots. And losing your cousin and mama—I know that’s been hell on you. It’s been hard on me too. I loved my sister dearly.
“But I’m gonna tell you something, straight from the heart: you’re just spinning your wheels with all this pinball and high-score nonsense. It’s a waste of time. You’re just about a man now, and if you really want to challenge yourself, get out in the world. Test your limits. Don’t rot behind a pinball machine or hole up in your room, alone with your grief for company.”
“Look, I hear you, but I’m dealing with all that grief stuff with my head shrinker, okay? She agrees that pinball is actually therapeutic for me. Especially since Dad took my car.”
“I know it’s been rough at home, kid. If you ever want to move outta your father’s place, you can always stay with us. You know your Uncle Herbie will take care of you. I can even lend you some money so you could get out in the world and get some adventure.”
“That’s nice and all for you to offer, but…” Danny began to say, then paused as he felt his moral compass beginning to twitch. Although he trusted Herbie like a father and found his offer comforting, what he was doing felt wrong and unsettling to Danny. His therapist had suggested he communicate the things that bothered him instead of holding them in. Danny decided to take his therapist’s advice as he continued, “…I kinda feel guilty about collecting money for your loans and bets while I make the food deliveries sometimes. Don’tcha ever worry about the sheriff?”
“What’s the matter, kid? It’s not like I’m asking you to break anyone’s legs; you’re just delivering and picking up. And don’t worry about the sheriff; he and the mayor have their mitts in everything around here. They know. I’m justa middleman, you could say—nothing compared to some of the other stuff the mayor and sheriff got going on.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Danny, you’re gonna find that life’s not so black and white. Things can go from legal to illegal and back again—just like that! It’s all about how it benefits those in power. Up until recently, even pinball machines were illegal.
“Pinball?” Danny echoed in surprise.
“Yeah! Silly ain’t it? Pinball! I mean, hell—this town was built on shady enterprises ever since the mines were established over a century ago. But when the mines dried up, the town nearly fell apart. Then prohibition came along—bad for some, good for others. Prohibition, ha! It changed everything, especially for people like your grandfather.”
Herbie paused, his gaze drifting towards the end of the game room where a photo hung—a solemn depiction of his late father, framed like a relic of a forgotten era. “Heck, kid—this very spot is where he ran a semi-renowned speakeasy.” Herbie waved his arms and continued, “My hand to God, it’s the truth! And if you doubt me, there’s a hidden door right over there on the back wall, beneath my father’s memorial picture.” Herbie bowed his head and whispered, “God rest his soul.” Then he made the sign of the cross over his chest in silent prayer and kissed his hand in reverence.
“A hidden door?” Danny muttered, looking where Herbie was pointing. “What’s it for?”
“Well, that led to a room next door where they held an illegal casino. So there, you see? Our family’s legacy, for better or worse, isn’t so squeaky clean.”
Danny frowned at his uncle, folded his arms, and asked, “Why bring all this up now, Uncle?” His tone carried a mix of frustration and curiosity, the weight of their shared history pressing against his thoughts.
“I’m telln’ ya, kid, because you seem so hung up on what’s right and wrong. The world is filled with shades of grey.” Herbie paused for a moment and rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. “Bottom line, kid, you gotta do what’s right for you.” He stopped again, massaging his temples with his fingertips.
“You okay, Uncle?”
“My eyes been bothering me—gotta see the doc. He’s gonna dilate ’em, and I gotta wear them goofy sunglasses—it’s exhausting! Then they’ll be all sensitive to the light.” Herbie groaned. Anyhow, all I’m saying is—don’t be too afraid of the so-called grey areas, and also, sort yourself out. I’ll dare ya if I have to!” Herbie laughed.
“Uncle, I’m not even a senior in high school yet. I just wish I could enjoy my summer curled up in my bed—without anyone climbing on my back about it.”
“Stubborn and headstrong, just like your mama,” Herbie said as he gave Danny a wink and patted his cheek.
The weight of Herbie’s words overwhelmed Danny. His mother’s absence intensified as he whispered, “I miss her, Uncle Herbie.” His eyes swelled again, and he wrapped his arms around his uncle’s burly frame. His tears dampened his uncle’s barrel chest as Herbie paused for a moment, then gave him a rigid hug and a stiff pat on the back.
“I miss her too, kid.” Herbie’s voice cracked as he sighed. His eyes reddened, and a stray tear traced down his cheek. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, sniffing and clearing his throat.
Danny knew from experience that Herbie had reached his emotional threshold, and he released his uncle.
“Okay, well…” Herbie started to say, as he walked away. He wiped his hand over his face and then turned around to look at Danny. “I need you to come in early tomorrow. I have a bunch of deliveries for you to make first thing, alright?”
Danny nodded, dabbing his tears away with his sleeves. “Okay, now can I get back to my game?” He smirked. “It’s therapy. I’m sorting myself out, okay, Uncle?”
“Sure, kid, whatever you say. Just make sure you turn off them breakers like I showed ya and then lock the front door when you leave.”
Danny watched his uncle march to the front door and leave. The rattle of keys and the creak of the door lock echoed through the lonely restaurant. The stillness enveloped Danny, drawing his thoughts to the unsettling events of the evening.
He thought of Brock and his foreboding omens, Freebird and his crushing high score, Uncle Herbie’s lectures, and his enigmatic Grandfather Cavallo. As his mind wandered, Danny glanced at the taunting high score before him. Then his attention drifted upward to his grandfather’s film noir-esque photo—a black-haired, dapper man whose presence commanded the room from beyond the grave.
He wondered if he would ever unravel the layers of meaning behind his grandfather’s gaze.
He had always been captivated by the glint of satisfaction in his grandfather’s dark eyes, a subtle yet intriguing expression filled with stories, half-told and half-hidden.
It was the face of a man risen from the depths of poverty to the zenith of American prestige—a world of jazz-filled nights and the rebellious spirit of the Roaring Twenties. And now, with his newfound knowledge, Danny saw the confidence of a man who had beaten a system that most never dared to challenge. Those who did and failed were apprehended and condemned to a lifetime of imprisonment.
Danny didn’t want to be a conformist, but he didn’t want to end up in and out of correctional institutions like his cousin, either.
Today, a large part of the mystery surrounding his grandfather unraveled for him—unexpected and exhilarating.
A truth was revealed, and more: his uncle and mother always told him how much he resembled his grandfather.
Their words echoed in his mind—What did that mean? Especially now, with his family’s criminal legacy weighing on him, casting a long shadow over his future. He turned everything over in his mind and pondered if this was truly his destiny. Would his life be shaped by rebellion—or doomed to crime?
Drawn into the mystery, Danny hastened to the wall just behind the Wizard! machine.
His fingertips skimmed the cool brick facade until they found a vertical line. He traced its contours, revealing a door he had never known existed—all these years.
Dumbfounded, he shook his head and stepped back, hoping a fresh perspective might reveal the secret door’s hidden latch. Could he figure it out on his own, or would he have to swallow his pride and ask his uncle for help?
His exhilaration surged as possibilities flooded his mind. Was the truth about his grandfather waiting behind that door? And if he found it—would he be ready for what it revealed?
A sudden flash from the game lights caught his eye, and the glare of the scoreboard loomed over him—unrelenting, commanding, like his father.
He couldn’t be second best. Not on Wizard!, and certainly not to someone named Freebird. Not when he could hold onto the one thing in his life he could control—the Wizard!’s scoreboard.
The clandestine door and its secrets would have to wait. The nagging score demanded his complete focus, pulling him away from everything else.
His eyes lingered on the high score, then drifted to the stunning backglass artwork of Wizard!—a tribute to Tommy, its actors immortalized in their iconic movie-themed pose.
Smirking, Danny made a quiet prayer to the illustration: “May the pinball gods watch over me and grant me victory tonight.”
As he uttered his prayer, somewhere deep in the night, something shifted. The Wizard! machine hummed—a faint vibration, like something waking up.
(continued to chapter 3)
