I'll get the 'wonder of me' crap out of the way first. I'm an American born male raised in various South American countries. My father was in oil. Enough said.
We moved to Southern California in the 70's and I graduated high school in Hollywood in '87. I now consider myself a Californian.
Last I checked I was 6'7" and weighed around 219. I have been married and have 4 children by more than one wife. My twins will be 14 soon.
I did my college stretch at the University of Las Vegas and my post grad studies at NYU in Manhattan. I have a couple of meaningless degrees, but insist my children get a couple, too. Nothing stops success quicker that a lack of education.
After graduation I worked briefly for my father, but that was difficult. I tried a few other things. Since I lived in Hollywood and ran with the kids of movie stars, a career in acting seemed a cool path to trod. I was lucky enough to get hired and did have a few minor roles, (mostly biker guys or dumb cops) but the work wasn't consistent, and since leaving my father's nest, income was a priority.
I did the only thing big guys are usually pretty good at. I became a cop. Not in Rube, Nebraska. Los Angeles, California. I was first assigned to the Robbery squad, but after rolling a couple of LAPD patrol cars and one or two shoot outs, I was transferred to vice. Undercover vice. Think Serpico with palm trees. Since I wanted no part of 'cutting up' the cash we found under thugs beds, I asked for and was swiftly granted a transfer to CRASH, the elite gang unit in the Central division of downtown LA. At least they could fight back without repercussions.
But, as life is frequently not what we expect, my days with CRASH were numbered. After one too many shootouts with teens that had no fear, I resigned and made a hasty exit to Las Vegas where I learned to deal blackjack.
Yeah. The very thing I arrested folks for only a few miles away was perfectly legal and thriving within the law in Nevada. Apparently borders meant something in those days.
I made the casino business my life. And what a life it was.
Through my wealthy connections, I was asked to open casinos around the world, for let's just say, for an unnamed group of 'investors'.
So off I went to exotic locations opening casinos by day and doing the wild thing at night. These casinos were typically in war torn countries and most were in abandoned movie houses.
I gave up my life of limos for muddy jeeps. My chauffeur? Usually armed militia.
Once again, I found myself running for my life down dark alleys hoping to find a way out. The way out came one night when I bumped (literally) into an old casino boss from Las Vegas. He suggested we work on cruise ships. No guns. No real violence. About the worst thing that could happen was being poked with a salad fork.
With his connections, we were able to secure jobs on the state of the art cruise ship of the day. The Star of Tokyo. A football field sized behemoth with a dozen decks, and amenities galore. One of those amenities was the Jubilee Casino on deck four. It looked like any casino in Nevada. From the decor to the cocktail girls wearing very little except big boots and even bigger cowboy hats.
Fun job. Awesome job. Made a lot of dough. Bedded a lot of babes.
But, after 14 months of sailing between Hawaii and Tokyo, I longed for dry land and a bed that didn't roll me to sleep at night.
With nothing to spend my money on, I'd managed to put away a hefty sum. Not millions, but enough that I wouldn't have to work for a while.
Since I was fluent in Spanish, Mexico seemed to keep popping in my head. I found a world map in the ship's library and began my quest. Since I was a Californian and was accustomed to living around the sea, I looked for beachfront cities. My finger kept slipping over to Acapulco and since I trust my instincts more than anything else, I decided my next new life would be in Acapulco.
My old casino boss had no interest in settling down and even less in Mexico. He was an old school gambler that's background in the gaming industry was dubious at best. I'm fairly certain he knew Al Capone and Bugsy Siegel. Probably Jimmy Hoffa, too.
So I said goodbye to my old friend, a simple handshake, no bromance double hugs, and took the next plane to Acapulco. It was as advertised. Warm, sunny, vibrant colors everywhere, and way more babes than even I could handle.
Life there was great. I rented a Penthouse in the John Wayne Hotel and settled in to my life of leisure. With six figures safely in Banco de Mexicana and my rent a whopping $125 a month including utilities, room service, and extra towels, I figured I'd be there till the cows come home.
But, alas...they came home early after I lost most of my dough in a phone sex operation I'd purchased upon the wise advice from my old casino boss.
I know. Shocking.
So it was back to Las Vegas with what I had left and once again, I found myself back inside a casino. Things had changed during my life abroad. The strip now had volcanoes, skyscrapers, treasure ships, the Eiffel Tower, and a space needle with a roller coaster on the top. And that was what I saw from the street.
Inside they had the square footage of Wal-Mart warehouses outside Miami. I knew my time there was going to be short. I just needed to regroup and replenish my war chest. I had no idea what the next best thing would be for me, but imagine my surprise when I was told I was going to be a father.
Yeah. Life does work in mysterious ways.
We married when she was 8 months pregnant. It's like I wanted to make sure she was really 'with child'. A nasty thing to admit, but in my defense, she was quite small and barely showed.
Surprise number two. We had twins.
They were cute, cuddly and one or the other was always shitting.
We gave marital bliss a fair shot, but after a couple of years, we went our separate ways. I stayed in Vegas and she went back to New York and continued her nursing career. Divorce at that point was out of the question.
I really wanted out of the casino world, and frankly blamed it for losing my wife and children. Then my college pal, Buddy showed up. He was another big guy but was never a cop. He preferred being a bodyguard. What better place than Las Vegas to open a 'security to the stars' operation?
I took off my Caesar's Palace badge and tossed it in the trash on my way out.
"Don't let the door hit you in the ass!" were the words only my mind heard.
Buddy and I rented a suite at the Hard Rock Hotel on the 14th floor and set up our security business. Surprisingly, my marketing degree came in handy and soon we had a growing list of entertainers that wanted what we had to offer.
Around the clock protection, limos to and from events, and whims answered within 3o minutes. Stars do need protection. I give them that. Look at the case of John Lennon. What they don't need is roses in their dressing rooms and cases of Evian bottled water. That's pampering. Not protection.
VIP, Inc. would be my home and life for many years.
Somewhere along the way, (probably during a late night drink fest in a bar) someone shouted, "Damn, Tommy. You should write a book!"
So I did. Why not? By now you should know me well enough to realize I take advice from anyone. Casino bosses from 'back in the day' to drunks in rowdy bars, I always listen. It is in fact those very people that I draw a lot of my characters and scenarios from.
I wrote my first novella in early 2000. I remember it's title, but it was such a bomb, I disclaim ever writing it. Thank God I wasn't using my own name back then.
Next I wrote what Hollywood types write about. The glitz and glamour of Hollywood. "A Night at the Oscar's" somehow got some traction and became a hit within weeks. I sold the book and movie rights in 2009 and made enough to make me smile. I still haven't seen the movie or even know if it was made, but it is one hell of a story. It's more of an expose' on the shenanigans behind the scenes at the Oscar's.
I then wrote a lot of porn for men's magazines. Made some dough. Then an agent found me, (not that I was lost) and told me I needed an agent to guide me through the perilous waters of publishing. Remember. I take advice from anyone. She did have an impressive office. Nice business cards, too.
But, alas...after she cashed the royalty checks, (mine included) she vanished and to my knowledge has never resurfaced.
I was approached by a publisher. Again, I took her advice. Again, I was wrong.
I now take my own advice. I self publish.
While this "About Tommy" page is written tongue in cheek and designed to make you not take me too seriously, I am a serious writer. I don't write stories that exploit women, or have Fido banging Penelope. BDSM is not my thing. I'm non judgmental, but that genre just isn't who I am.