His threats are useless.
Even his slurs don’t scratch my back.
I’ve heard them all.
Dago, ginzo, goombah, guinea.
People who hate Italians have a list of words to call us, but I don’t give a shit.
At the end of the day I’m the one with money in my pocket.
“Get him out of here.” I wave a hand to dismiss him.
I have a meeting to prepare for, and I’m done with this little shit. Gian and I are having a sit down with Lil Bobby Paladina and it’s important that it goes well. In order for us to prevent a civil war, Gian needs to take his seat at the head of the family with everyone in agreeance. The men would follow their captains, so we need to get the last two captains in line, Bobby is one of them.
I stand from my chair, adjusting my suit. We’ll have the meeting downstairs in the bar. It was early, the place isn’t open yet and the only employee here is Justine, the bar manager. She’s good at staying out of sight when I’m conducting business.
I tuck the Glock I favor safely away in my desk drawer before heading down to the bar. It’s frowned upon to bring a gun to a meeting with another capo.
Frank and Charlie are both taking Johnny to rehab, I don’t want to risk him throwing a fit and trying to run off so I sent them both. Unfortunately, that leaves me with just Tony for the meeting. Meetings with other capos are typically less violent, as we know the rules and live by them. And even if I wanted to, rules say I can’t touch another capo.
Made men, in general, are off-limits, this is a brotherhood. You don’t hit a made man, and you definitely can’t kill them. Most of all you stay the fuck away from their women, whether they’re a wife or a side piece.
This thing of ours, or better known as la Cosa Nostra was a group based on common values and rules. These things keep us in line, keep us connected. Gian is a stickler for these rules, he believes in this brotherhood more than any man I’ve ever met.
He also fucking loves money.
That doesn’t hurt.
Bobby Paladina, the capo we’re meeting with, has been around for a long time. He runs a large crew that brings in a lot of money for la Famiglia. His crew has a few construction rackets, sports betting, and some low-end poker games. They’re a tight team, avoid drama for the most part, and bring in money.
There’s an unspoken rule in la Famiglia that the men who bring in the most money are the ones who get promoted. When you add up the dollars, that man is Gian. He has monthly poker games with high rollers that bring in so much cash I get twitchy thinking about it. His crew boosts trucks and turns the profits in a day, faster than anyone else in New England. Gian runs a tight ship. and they make bank because of it.
The problem is, even though the old guard knows how well Gian is doing, they’re too spiteful to hand him the promotion he rightfully deserves.
Things are going to change, we’re going to make sure of it.
Bobby arrives at The Alibi first. He’s a fat and stubborn man. He drinks too much, smokes too much, and is far too loud. He enters the bar like he owns the place, his stubby legs carrying him over to my table.
“Bobby,” I stand for his arrival, giving him a customary kiss on the cheek.
“Gio,” he gives me a curt nod. “Where’s your brotha at?”
“He’ll be here.” I respond politely.
It’s not that I hate the man, I just don’t like anyone who’s not backing my brother. My blood brother.
Since the former bosses’ death, there’s been a power vacuum in this city. I know my brother is meant for the boss’s seat, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get him there.
On cue, Gian walks into The Alibi. He wears a fitted stone gray suit and a white silk shirt. We have good genes, no one can deny that. Gian’s black hair is slicked back showing off his prominent facial features. His lips curve into a smile as he greets Bobby. His sleeve lifts to show off his $25,000 Rolex as he shakes the man's hand.
He flips open the button on his suit jacket as he takes a wide-legged seat at the table, lifting a hand to signal for Bobby and me to join him.
He’s already in command of the room.
Sometimes, the title follows power.
“So,” Bobby trails. “You wanted to see me, huh?”
“Yep,” Gian responds cooly. “It’s been to fucking long.”
Bobby sighs, leaning back into his chair. “Yeah, yeah it has.”
“Massimo’s been dead, what seven months?”
Bobby groans in response. The former boss has been dead a while, leaving the organization in turmoil.
“You know we can’t continue like this?” Gian asks, eliciting another groan from Bobby.
There’s no debate that we need a leader, that’s how this shit works.
The problem is who.
“My crew has been making money, haven’t stopped even though all the bullshit Marazano left us with.”
The former boss left us with a nice FBI investigation that had paused a lot of business.
“We haven’t been so lucky,” Bobby admits. “Fed’s have been on us.”
“I think I can help with that.” Gian grins, “But I’m going to need your support.”
In this world, it’s always tit for tat.
Bobby’s eyebrows raise. “I’m listening.”
Those words are the start of every successful negotiation.
“Sal sent the cannolis you like,” I call entering my loft, where I left Annie here this morning when I went to go handle her brother.
I hate leaving her, but I like the thought of
