NICE JEWISH FELON

Vincent swaggered into EJ's with the subtle grace of a man without a care in the world. He was wearing spotless white sneakers, a light blue tailored running suit, a diamond and gold encrusted watch, and designer glasses. His full head of hair was perfectly cropped. On his arm was a most gorgeous brunette, also elegantly dressed with a body only the gods could partake of. This particular Sunday was even busier than normal at EJ's and the wait was going on forty-five minutes for seating. I noticed Vincent from the moment he slipped a fifty-dollar bill into the manager's hand. The "commoners" would wait, but Vincent wouldn't. I knew where he would be seated as a table was opening in my section on the porch.

Strangely, I felt some sort of a connection to Vincent from the moment I saw him. I whisked away the busboy and set the table myself, giving particular care to every detail. I wanted to subtly demonstrate my respect for this man who carried with him such an aura of power.