'What can I tell ya? The kid's got good taste.'
Vincent scratched himself. 'I wonder why the bastard never hits on me.'
'Don't be jealous. He knows you're straight.'
'He knows the same thing about you.'
'True, but my magnetism knows no sexual preference.'
Vincent chuckled. 'You are kinda cute.'
'You don't want to take a shower with me, too, do you?'
'Who doesn't?' Vincent gave one of the buttons on the box another try then sat at the foot of his bed. 'Fuck it.'
Frank leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the table. 'If we take off early enough we can be halfway through Pennsylvania by tomorrow night and home by Monday.'
'Sounds good.'
Frank cleared his throat. 'Charlie was asking me about the Turano situation earlier.'
'What'd you tell him?'
'That I didn't know anything yet.'
Vincent staggered to the bathroom and urinated with the door open. 'I figured we could talk about it on the ride home.'
'I'd just as soon discuss it now.'
'I had Michael check him out,' Vincent said with reluctance. He returned from the bathroom and sat at the table, across from Frank. 'The rumors are true. Turano's got connections. He's got a reputation for running his mouth and he's been ranting and raving about how he's going to put us in our place. The problem is, if we make a move to scare him and it backfires – which it probably will with our fucking luck – Turano will come after us with everything he's got. Now, that ain't more than we got, in some circles it's less, but just the same, he'll come after us, Frank.'
'Then trying to intimidate him is out.'
'If you're a betting man it is.' Vincent yawned. 'From everything I've been able to find out, if Turano had himself a little… accident… his federation would fold like a house of cards in a matter of months.'
'But even with Turano out of the way,' Frank said, 'we'd still have to worry about the other two.'
'His brother Marvin has always shied away from the muscle end of things, and his cousin Joey Loomis is stunadz, a real fucking chooch – couldn't find his way out of a bathroom without a blinking light over the door, this guy.'
'There's no other way?'
Vincent cracked his knuckles and stared at the table. 'Not unless you want to wait around for Turano to come after us.'
'Michael can't protect us?'
'He and Fratenzza can't afford to start a major riff here. Turano knows people in Philly,' Vincent told him. 'As far as they're concerned this is small time crap. But as long as we do everything according to the code we should be all right.'
'According to the code?'
'The code of la familia.'
'Who are you, Mario Puzo now?'
'You know how all that greaseball crap works, Frank. If we were to go to our connections and arrange for Turano to be hit, it'd have to be cleared with the boys in Philadelphia – the same way any moves Turano makes against us have to be cleared through Fratenzza and Michael. Remember, Philly ain't their turf.'
Frank rubbed his tired eyes. 'Is there any chance they could side with Turano?'
'Not if we move now,' Vincent told him. 'Guys like Mike and the boys in Philly usually cut the best deal they can to keep the peace and then deal with whoever's left standing – it's just the way they do business – but I'm Mike's brother, his blood, and that counts for everything with all the ginzos. Besides, in another few years when Fratenzza's out of the way everybody in Philadelphia will be dealing directly with Michael anyway, so at this point, it isn't good business for them to side with Turano.'
'So… how would it happen?'
Vincent shrugged. 'You and I'd never know the particulars. It's better that way. My guess is Michael will put somebody like Vic DeNicco on it. The boys in Philly will know it's coming and they'll look the other way while the shit goes down. Vic will whack him out somewhere safe, toss him in a trunk and bring him to a chophouse. They'll skin him, cut him up, and scatter the pieces.'
'Jesus Christ.'
'You wanted to know.'
Frank wondered if John Turano had a wife, or children. 'What did you tell Michael?'
'I told him I had to talk with you. You're the boss.'
'Couldn't we just have somebody lean on him? Maybe convince him to back off?'
Vincent laughed eerily. 'That shit only works in the movies. These are serious men, Frank. They don't fucking play games.'
Frank lit a cigarette, blew a smoke ring across the room. 'When would they move on him?'
'Right after the first of the year,' Vincent sighed as if bored. 'Turano will be expecting us to hit back a lot sooner than that. When we don't, he'll be real comfortable, which makes him vulnerable. Now what do you want me to tell Michael?'
Frank looked into Vincent's glassy eyes, curious if his own looked the same. 'Tell Michael I have no objection.'
Several minutes past before either man moved or spoke another word. Vincent left the table first, went to his bed and pulled back the covers.
'Vin?'
He looked back over his shoulder at Frank. 'Yeah?'
'I'm sorry about that shit with Nick Strong tonight.'
'Forget about it, man.' Vincent smiled. 'I already have.'
Frank nodded, watched him quietly, and hoped at least one of them was telling the truth.
CHAPTER 10
People seldom remember things as they actually were. Either times were too happy, or simply awful. Frank would later recall that week off the road as perhaps the best of his life. It was a welcome break, but nothing at all extraordinary happened. Frank spent most of his time puttering around the apartment, shaking off the effects of the road and doing his best to drink as little as possible. He and Sandy went out to dinner a few times. They made love. They looked at a couple of houses that were for rent in the area. Sandy made it a point of not paying too much attention to the second or third bedrooms in the houses they inspected. But just watching her, Frank knew she was thinking of what color to paint the walls, where a crib might fit snuggly in a room, and if the rocking chair in her parents' house would look nice near the window, to sit in and rock a baby on those tender crying nights.
Late Saturday afternoon he and Sandy left for the party in New York. During the long drive Frank let her do most of the talking, preferring instead to listen thoughtfully and occasionally take his eyes from the road just long enough to admire her. Because Charlie had stressed that everyone dress casually, Sandy wore a pair of dainty sandals, and a simple cotton summer dress patterned with impressionistic flowers. She had applied only a little lipstick, and clipped her tawny, summer-lightened hair back into a no-nonsense ponytail. Frank had no special interest in women's fashion, but he loved watching Sandy get dressed, from the damp towel she casually wrapped around her slender figure after her shower to the final fully dressed young woman people recognized. His wife's beauty seemed effortless, as if it existed without her knowledge, and Frank often wondered what she had ever seen in him. In jeans, sneakers and a sweatshirt, Frank couldn't help but feel pale in comparison.
