Page 54 of Cara & Gian: The Guzzi Duet

“Johnnie was pulled out of the lake this morning,” Constantino said. “All limbs attached, though, so clearly they wanted us to know.”

Gian rubbed a hand over his jaw, feeling the stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave that morning. “Fuck.”

“Edmond is making a point.”

“Or the older generation did it,” Gian pointed out.

“It’s still for the boss, Gian.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m saying—”

“Johnnie had a verbal disagreement with one of Edmond’s favorites the night after your car went boom last week, and all of the sudden, he shows up dead.” Constantino scoffed, quickly adding, “Not to mention, he’s the second body this week, but he could have been the third in two weeks, had the bomb on your car been successful.”

Constantino was making all kinds of sense, even though Gian wished it didn’t have to be this way. The sudden surge of violence on the streets between the younger and older generation of made men in the Guzzi Cosa Nostra was disconcerting, but not entirely a surprise.

The younger men had taken the bomb on Gian’s vehicle as a personal affront, as though it was the boss’s one way of removing the last person the men thought might give them a voice. Any verbal or physical action that disagreed with the boss was suddenly met with severe punishment—to make a point, to make the men sit down, and shut the hell up.

“I’ve been shut out for a week,” Gian admitted.

“Completely?”

“No calls from Edmond or his new consigliere. No calls from the older Capos, and any attempts I’ve made to see them or check in, have been fucked over in some way. He’s shutting me out.”

Constantino swore under his breath. “This isn’t good.”

“No.”

“What are you planning on doing now, Gian? Reconciliation was fine before someone tried to knock you off, but what now?”

Gian didn’t have a simple or easy answer for that. “I need to find out who tried to kill me first, and then I’ll figure out the rest.”

Somehow, he held back from adding.

“Look to Edmond, or one of his minions.”

“I’m aware, asshole,” Gian said, “but I want a name behind the bomb and a reason first.”

Gian still wasn’t entirely sure what was going on within his own famiglia. Violence, yes. Discontent, sure. Lines had been drawn in the sand, and Gian had attempted not to put himself on either side of it, but managed to get put on one anyway.

“These issues—the problems between the generations—have been ongoing for a decade,” Gian said. “Why now, has it suddenly gotten so out of hand?”

“You should already know the answer to that, but the fact that you admit these problems have been ongoing says you have chosen to be blind to the complaints for a long time, Gian.”

He let that insult brush off his shoulders.

Sort of.

“It was manageable when Corrado was alive,” Gian replied. “That’s all I’m saying.”

“It was manageable because one side knew that when Corrado was dead, they would finally have what they wanted—a younger boss they respected and had common ground with in la famiglia. You, Gian. And they didn’t get you. They got another ancient fool in Edmond, who doesn’t understand that it’s not the forties and fifties anymore, and the rules need to change with the world we live in.”

“You’re starting to piss me off again; Corrado wasn’t—”

“He chose to be blind or placate, too. Don’t make that mistake, man.”

“He’s shutting me out,” Gian reminded his friend. “That means he’s not going to let me get close enough to put this to an end.”

“And the bomb,” Constantino said. “Don’t forget the bomb.”