Focus, Interrupted

By Tammy Davis

What a Former Mobster Taught Me About Going After What You Want

Chaos tends to follow me around. I like to blame my unmedicated ADHD brain, but I’ve accepted it’s just part of the Tammy Davis package.

I love to travel. A good adventure is my favorite kind of dopamine hit, but there’s always a hiccup—usually self-inflicted.

The glitch that day at the Mob Museum in Las Vegas? A dead phone.
That’s a recurring problem for me. I should’ve been worried about how I’d get back to the hotel without Uber. That would’ve been the logical concern. But all I could think about was getting a picture with Frank Calabrese Jr.—the former mobster and keynote speaker.

Fortunately, I had my charger in my bag. I just needed an outlet. The talk started in ten minutes. A challenge with a deadline? Perfect. I have laser focus in situations like that. If I could find a plug in the courtroom, I could charge my phone while I listened and then snag the photo at the signing. Not just two birds with one stone. Three.

As usual, executing the plan meant asking a stranger for help. Lucky for me, that’s one of my ADHD superpowers.

Unfortunately, I use a thousand words when ten would do.

The young museum attendant got the long version: former schoolteacher, history buff, all the way from South Carolina, first time in Vegas, skipped the Kenny Chesney concert to hear a mobster speak, but now my phone was dead. Blah, blah, blah. I’m not sure if he interrupted me or if I just ran out of steam—but either way, it was his turn to talk.

He smiled, then turned to a man on a nearby bench. The guy looked to be about my age. Vaguely familiar. And cute.
How had I not noticed him sitting there?

“This is Frank. Frank Calabrese, Jr.,” the attendant said with a grin. Then he looked back at me. “You came to hear this guy? Well, here he is. He’s all yours.”

SQUIRREL!

Charging my phone? No longer the priority.
I stuck out my hand. “Hey, I’m Tammy Davis.”

I call myself happily single, but that’s not exactly true. I’ve just decided to live a happy life—no matter my relationship status.

Still, I haven’t given up on meeting the right man. I just didn’t expect to do it at a mob museum.

“Use good sense,” I could hear my very practical friend, Regina, issue this warning earlier in the day. I was trying my best. Sort of.

When Frank stood up, his 6’2” frame towered over mine. His piercing blue eyes made it impossible to follow Regina’s earlier advice not to make eye contact. I couldn’t tell you what he said—only that his voice was deep and raspy and oddly soothing.

The old cliché about good girls being drawn to bad boys? It holds up at 18 and 58.

I discreetly glanced at his left hand. No ring. It all felt a little like a Hallmark movie.

Until that tiny voice of logic kicked in:
Mobster. Mobster. Alert. Alert.
This wasn’t Hallmark. It was Goodfellas.

I could already hear Regina: “I let you out of my sight for one afternoon and you fall for a mobster?”

Just then, the museum attendant snapped me out of my mental spiral.
“Ma’am, didn’t you need to charge your phone?”

I was clearly rattled.

Calabrese stepped in the way smooth men always do. “I’ll see you inside,” he said. I’d like to believe he winked, but that might have been wishful thinking and my overactive imagination.

I followed the attendant to a corner lined with benches. As soon as my phone powered on, I texted Regina.
“I think I met a man!”

She added one of those little question mark reactions at the top.

“He was in the mob, but don’t panic. That was a long time ago. He’s reformed. He seems very nice!”

“Get yourself out of there right this very second!” she demanded. Even in Las Vegas, Regina remained the voice of reason. But I didn’t leave. Of course, I didn’t. I walked straight into that courtroom and found a seat near the front.

The most interesting part of Frank’s story was that he never lost sight of what he wanted: to get out of The Life and build a better future for his wife, kids, and now grandchildren. With laser focus, he figured out a way to do it.

As he spoke, I found myself reflecting on my own story. I never expected to have anything in common with a former mobster—but maybe we all do.

Most of us know what we want. We just tack on excuses.
I want X, but Y gets in the way.
Not Calabrese. No “but.” Just a period.
I want out of The Life. Period.

Despite the odds, he pulled it off. His story is remarkable.

Calabrese was clear on his goal and didn’t let anything stop him. I need to do the same. Quit making excuses for not chasing my biggest dreams. What I call “reasons,” Frank would call excuses. Lame ones at that.

Calabrese had laser-like focus. I never will, but what I lack in focus I make up for in grit.

It would be easy to let the bumps of my brain keep me from doing things I love or the goals I want. But that’s not how I want to live my life.

I’m pretty sure there was a reason our paths crossed—and it wasn’t romance. Life was offering something far more valuable. Hearing him share his story helped me sort out my own.
My mobster meet-cute didn’t end like the movies, but that’s okay. Another adventure added to the list. Another lesson tucked into the chaos.

After the book signing, I texted Regina to say I was heading back to the hotel. But I wasn’t just going to sit by the pool and pass time.

My focus was clear.

I want to start my weekly column again—so I drafted the first two installments.
I want to finish my novel—so I made notes on the structure.

Every action was a step toward the life I want.
None of it felt boring.
It all felt just right.

I did all of it at the rooftop pool, overlooking a strange city that was starting to grow on me.
And yes—still in my sequin jacket.
It made a great cover-up after all.

 

Tammy Davis is a writer and former teacher. She offers one-on-one coaching for beginning writers at tammydavisstories.substack.com.

 

Next Up: Wynn-ing Me Over
I wasn’t expecting to like Las Vegas. I was wrong.
Meeting a mobster gave me clarity I didn’t know I needed.
I had misjudged what Vegas had to offer.
Sin City was Wynn-ing me over.
And we were just getting started.