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“Mom, what are these white pills?”
She opens one eye. “Jarette had too many. I thought we could sell the rest.”
“Oh my God, you’re dealing Jarette’s pills?”
“Mmhm.”
I think she might be high. It would explain the tiredness and mood swings. “Jesus, Mom.”
“He abandoned me,” she says.
When she says this, I’m never sure who she’s talking about. Either she’s referring to the man who made me, then left for college, only to almost kill her when she tried reconnecting with him, or if she means Gordon.
“You won’t ever leave me, my sweet girl.”
I sigh, tears gathering in my eyes. “No, I’ll always be here.”
25
AT THE MEETING
CORRADO
Smoke from six cigars lingers in the dimly lit dining room even though the workers installed Vegas hotel-style air venting systems when they built our vacation home right outside the city.
I stub out my cigar and take a sip of my seventh espresso, which tastes like rubber by now. I’m caffeinated enough for the day. I’ve had it with everything today, and if I were Franko Monelli, I’d stop itching behind my ear and the side of my neck because it’s starting to make me want to scratch too.
In fact, if I were a disloyal SOB like Franko, I wouldn’t have come to this meeting at all. The fact he’s sitting at the table refusing to accept the severance deal tells me his ego runs his life. Either that, or he thinks I care that he’s made a potentially profitable alliance with a family from Chicago.
It’s a little too late to bring money into the bank. The decision has been made. The Monellis are out, and he’ll be lucky if I offer him a generous severance package at all.
I check my watch. It’s nearly eight, the time I normally quit working. These extenuating circumstances with problems I didn’t need require longer hours. This is why I decided I’ll deal with the Franko problem as swiftly as possible. I don’t have time for his sorry excuses or whatever leverage he thinks he can use to stay in the Order after going behind my back.
When I slapped him and threw him out the first time, I spared his life. He turned around and put it on the line again. Fine. I won’t show mercy again. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. After sitting in the room for seven hours watching a cock fight between two Italian families that have been enemies longer than I’ve been alive. I’ve lost patience.
Yet, I allow it. When their tempers flare, they start airing out their differences in front of me, and I hear firsthand about all the ways they’ve sabotaged each other over the past few years. Some of the ways affect our collective income and security.
Besides, I’m getting to know a new face, an heir to the Benvenuti family since Dominico sent his son. Clearly, Domenico Senior is smarter than Franko. Hence, the Benvenutis stay in the Order.
Dom’s (junior, not senior) even temper surprises me. Sitting across from him, Franko has challenged him several times, once even waving his gun at the man, who remained sitting, speaking calmly and evenly, impressing me with his self-control.
I’m sure Franko’s threats haven’t gone unnoticed, but one should never mistake a man who can control his responses for a coward. Franko believes Dom is too scared to answer, and he’s even made fun of him, saying he needs Daddy’s approval to make decisions. But I can tell Dom is anything but scared. He’s allowing a clown to be a clown.
Dom will have the honor of delivering the severance package to Franko Monelli’s immediate family once he disposes of Franko and any other resistance loyal only to Franko. This means Isabella too. She’s threatened my wife, and I must deal with her before Michela invites Isabella to coffee, thinking the two of them can work it out.
Since I want to get out of here, Franko’s lack of apology for manipulating me into coming to New York and his constant blaming of others for his failures irks me. Maybe my wavering patience has more to do with wanting to see my wife in my apartment tonight than with dealing with Franko’s crap, but whatever it is, I’m done.
While Franko yaps, I grab my Walther and slide it across the table to Dom, who picks it up and aims. The force of the impact flips Monelli’s chair, and, along with his body, it crashes to the floor. The other men at the table freeze, looking at me as if I’ve lost my mind.
I haven’t. I was just done with Franko, and now they fear they’re next.
Without missing a beat, Dom inspects my weapon before offering it back in the palm of his large hand. “Nice piece.”
“Keep it. It’s not mine, and I was never here.”
Brown eyes narrow for a moment, and Dom smirks. “Thanks.”
Nodding, I turn to the other three members at the table. Two are senators who would have rather not witnessed Franko’s execution, but seeing as how Franko brought two of them, I needed leverage. A single whisper of this would cost them their state seats. Besides, one of them is about to face the same fate as Franko.
