14. Nico
Nico
14
I smile into my coffee. It’s early in the morning for a Saturday. Far too early for us. But I’m in a really good fucking mood.
“Jesus,” Enzo says, eyeing me over his phone, amusement coloring his face. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy before.” His deep voice cracks with a yawn as he stretches his arms above his head. “Should I be concerned?” He cocks an eyebrow.
I laugh.
“Probably.”
I think I mean it, actually. I’ve never felt this way. Is this normal? Is this how morning people feel?
It has been three days since I killed Matt Ricci and cut up his body into tiny little pieces, tossing them in the river. I was pretty proud of myself to be honest. I don’t know the last time I felt so... productive. I can’t stop smiling.
And the relief that flashed in Christina’s eyes when I told her, oh my god. That shit was like a hit of the best drug I’ve ever had.
I will do anything to make her look at me like that again.
Enzo and I exchange a knowing glance. Neither of us wants to be awake. But a part of me recognizes that this path we’re about to take on is a symbolic shift to what it will mean to be a man in this family, in this organization.
So as badly as I want to go back to bed, I can’t. Not if this is truly the life I intend on building.
This path will be the cumulation of hard work and strategic planning. This shit doesn’t happen by accidental laziness.
I force myself to focus.
Today is the day we meet with the men at the shipyard to go over logistics for our first big deal. We are planning to ship off automatic weapons to the Cinelosa cartel. Our arms trade is a relatively new venture for the family, but one I’ve encouraged.
You could even go as far as to call it my special project. If this goes well, I’ll reap the benefits. But if it crashes and burns? That’s on me too.
It’s one of the risks of the job. Among many things expected of an underboss, coming up with new streams of revenue is a big deal, along with defending and enforcing those revenue streams… through any means necessary.
I take another sip of my coffee. That’s the part I’m looking forward to.
Making allies of the Cinelosa will do a lot for the long-term stability of our empire, something I think my father often overlooks.
Don’t get me wrong, he’s grown our territory twofold and stabilized power in an unprecedented way compared to the other heads of the family.
But that doesn’t mean there isn’t opportunity being left on the table.
Bringing in a steady trade with the Cinelosa family will be a game changer.
Our game changer.
We’re lucky, at the moment we don’t have many enemies. Rival families, sure. The Cossis being our biggest rivals. But true enemies? The kind you fight wars with? None.
There’s a sliver of fear that a Cossi solider will shoot one of ours in the back. They might upend a drug deal, but that’s small play when you consider the damage that could be done to a family such as ours, or our various business lines.
The last incident we had with the Cossis was squashed when their boss turned over the soldier that stole from us.
We had our retribution and then it was settled. There was no reason to further retaliate.
The goal in our world isn’t always to get even. Sometimes we must accept the apologies of others, especially when their debts are paid. It doesn’t always feel good, but it is what makes sense. This isn’t a drama. There’s no reward for unnecessary revenge.
A mafioso without enemies is the ultimate power. It’s the sweet spot.
Something I’m looking to continue, regardless of the cost.
“Did you see the news?” Enzo asks as he gets up to make himself another cup of coffee.
“Make me one, too,” I say, nodding my head towards the espresso machine. “What news?” I ask, taking my phone out of my back pocket.
“Ricci’s hands showed up.” The rest of his sentence is lost beneath the sound of the coffee grinder.
My stomach tightens. I open my phone to search the local news station and find that we’ve made the headlines.
Or at least I did.
“Fuck,” I say.
“Yeah.”
Enzo sets my cup down. “It’s not great.” He takes a sip of his own and sits back down at the table.
“It’s not terrible though,” I say, maybe more to myself than to him. “No one gives a fuck about the Ricci’s.”
“Tell that to social media.” He holds out his phone.
I scoff and take his phone. “Social media doesn’t mean anything.”
But as I scroll through the posts, my stomach starts to tighten. There are hundreds of posts already.
Grieving.
Memorializing.
Calling for justice.
I stop on one and look at the baseball picture of Matt, smiling in his uniform.
An end to a light of the community, gone too soon is the caption. The most liked comment is from a cousin. We won’t rest until you get justice, Matty. We love you, cuz!
I slam my fist against the table and drop Enzo’s phone.
Fuck this. Matt wasn’t a light, he was a goddamn predator. His death is a fucking favor to the world. I’ll be damned if my first kill goes wrong. The fucker deserved it.
“Maybe it’ll die down.” Enzo takes his phone back. “As long as it stays on local news and social media, we’ll probably be able to wait it out. If it hits national news, we’ll need to bring Albert in to do damage control.”
I groan and he gives me a sympathetic shrug. If my father is awake, he’ll want to talk about this. I check the time. It’s nearly time to leave. I know he’ll be awake soon.
“Give it a few days,” he says. “It’ll become old news fast.”
It fucking better.
The Ricci name was inconsequential in this town until the moment Matt’s severed hands turned up on the shore. Enzo is probably right.
His family will grieve. His community will shout about him. But… it will all die away in a few weeks. Leave it to social media to magnify something that should never have seen the light of day.
I twist in my chair to turn on the TV, visible from the kitchen table.
Local news reporters are set up along the docks, nowhere near our property at least, the live stream cutting to a video tape of last night, when the discovery must have been made. The previously shot footage shows crime scene investigators lingering in the background.
I’ve seen enough. I click off the TV as their morning reporter narrates the recap of last night and I drain the last of my espresso.
No one who matters gives a fuck about the Ricci family. There’s no long-term damage here.
And if the talking heads on the TV news programs throw around any mobster links – it’s not like they will be able to link it to us.
Cutting hands off isn’t exactly a signature move. We’re Mafia. We may kill serially, but we’re not serial killers.
Still. I don’t want to have to explain myself. I just want to kill whoever I want and be left alone to enjoy it. I can practically see my father now. I start to count down from ten. Nine. Eight.
“Nico,” my father’s voice yells from a distance.
Fuck. Here we go.
I stand, sighing, as Enzo gives me a pointed look. It’s his favorite way of warning me not to piss him off.
Newsflash, brother – I’ve been pissing him off since the day I was born.
Now, I’ll admit, I reacted emotionally. When Christina told me what Matt did to her, I needed it to have a swift end. I didn’t consider the consequences of this kill or disposal.
In my mind, I was doing the world a favor. Who the fuck would care that I murdered some asshole that hurt women?
There’s nothing redeemable about that.
His father owns a construction site. He’s a small player in a huge game. Where he is important, there are seven other men just like him who are probably better.
I shake my head, straightening my shoulders before I face my father. Whether he likes it or not, our relationship has now changed. I’ve taken a life.
What’s done is done.
The fucker deserved to die and I’ve officially done the task required of me to become a made-man. This family will soon belong to me.
“Good morning, Sir,” I say, knocking on the door of his office.
My father looks up with a scowl.
“Is this you?” He asks, pointing to the screen playing in his office.
“Yep.” I lean against the door. “Proud? Planning a party for my first kill?”
“You’re lucky I don’t strangle you, boy.” My father stands, his full height nearly reaching mine.
But I don’t back down. I’m not afraid of my father anymore.
“You don’t have anything to say for yourself?” Anger colors his face.
I shrug and cross my arms.
“I’d do it again.”
He runs a frustrated hand over his jaw.
“Do you have any idea how much shit we’re in with Riccis? Huh? We need them in our pocket. How am I supposed to keep them on our side if you’re out killing off their future heirs?”
He slams his hand against his desk, sending pens scattering over the floor.
“We can’t afford for you to be sloppy.”
“He assaulted Christina,” I say, shrugging. “Easy decision.” I take a step forward. “Like I said, I’d fucking do it again.”
My father considers me for a long moment. Finally, he nods his head and sighs, taking a seat once more.
“About Christina…” He gestures for me to have a seat across from him. I eye him warily.
If this is a ploy to get me to talk more about Matt – I’ll get up and walk right out of here. They will never find all of that fucker.
But I am interested in what he has to say about Christina.
“Cosa is pressuring for an engagement. If you don’t find her a suitable husband before the end of the month, she’ll be married off to him and I will consider this task a failure on your part. If that happens, I’ll be forced to reconsider the timing of stepping down. I won’t leave the empire I’ve built behind only to watch my dumbass son let it crumble around us.” He makes a pointed look.
What the fuck?
Fresh fury bubbles up in my chest, threatening what’s left of my self-control. My hands clench into fists.
Over my dead body.
“Don’t make this my problem, understand?” He says.
I grit my teeth and manage a short nod of my head. It’s taking everything in me to keep my words in check. Even though it might be momentarily satisfying, starting an argument about this with my father won’t solve anything.
And it certainly won’t get him out from behind that desk any faster.
“I understand.”
“Let’s get this all over with then.” He stands, motioning for me to follow him.
We file out of the office, joining Enzo and our security detail in the foyer.
Our work today will be checking materials and shipping manifests for our legal and illegal shipments. It’s essential that all of our records line up correctly, and our shipments are sent underway. I guess kissing Ricci's ass can also be added to that list. Just fucking great.
Enzo gets in the car next to me, sliding into the driver’s seat. My father and his closest men step into the armored SUV beside us.
“How much trouble are we in?” Enzo asks, adjusting the volume of the music. We have to wait for my father and his convoy to pull out before we can follow.
Just a few more months of this bullshit and he will be the one waiting to follow me.
“There’s additional pressure to marry Christina off. As soon as possible.”
Enzo freezes and looks at me.
“The Cosa’s?”
I nod my head. “Now that the Ricci ties are at risk, securing up our relationships is… time sensitive.”
He sighs and drums his fingers on the steering wheel. I know the prospect of marrying her off makes him feel the same way it makes me feel.
I can’t imagine it. I won’t. Christina betrothed to another? Her perfect curves hidden beneath a white dress?
No. Fuck that. We took her virginity and we’ve claimed her as ours. No one else will touch her.
I don’t want to imagine her walking down the aisle to some asshole who only sees her as property to undress, fuck, and knock up.
We drive to the warehouse in silence. My mind is busy evaluating all the different scenarios in which I can get this all to work out in our favor.
With Enzo and I as a united force, I’m sure that we can figure this out.
Senator Cosa is growing too powerful, and I can’t ignore the gnawing part of my brain that asks, why? The families that make up La Costa Nostra have been at peace for nearly fifty years.
But with every generation, people become power hungry. And the lesser families make moves. It’s not unheard of, just unexpected. But peace was never meant to last forever.
Cosa has made things difficult, however. Draping himself in the safety of the public eye, it’s harder to get at him. His law firm, which once represented the criminal world he claims to resent, was used to propel himself into the spotlight and into a seat in Congress.
No one can disagree that it’s been bad for our business.
Losing the law firm we’ve come to rely on has to be one of the reasons my father married Meredith. We need the law on our side.
But it means risking drawing attention from the authorities regarding our businesses in the meantime.
Illegal shipments or drugs and weapons can only go unnoticed within a well-regulated system.
Having Cosa break from that chain has resulted in weaknesses in our plan.
All it takes is one misinterpreted law or one poorly written statute and we’ve suddenly got a mountain of problems.
If he really wants to make a name for himself, he could even target our legitimate businesses.
Something as simple as having our liquor licenses revoked would make a dramatic impact on our lives and our revenue.
And if he decides to be a real asshole? He could casually mention a few of our missing persons cases to the police. Convene a justice task force to look into them.
Bottom line: there are too many avenues for him to go after us.
We can’t have that.
Something needs to be done. And it needs to be done fast.
It doesn’t take long for us to drive to our warehouses. We keep the most important of our business close to home. Things just feel more secure that way. Plus, it helps keep the territory locked down.
Or at least, it used to.
Enzo pulls to a stop, and we get out of the car. The others arrive at the same time.
The office of the warehouse is dimly lit and smells musty. There’s moisture from the docks seeping in the wooden cracks and everything in here feels tired and dated.
The inner circle sits around the table, clearly ready to get this over with.
“When does Luis get back?” Alec asks.
Tony looks exhausted. The skin beneath his eyes hollow and bruised. “Tomorrow,” he says.
“Everything okay in Florence?”
Tony, our cousin on Albert’s side, is in charge of our businesses back in Italy, an important job, especially for someone so young. But he and his twin brother Luis are the only ones of the next generation who can actually speak Italian, something Albert doesn’t let anyone forget.
“Yeah,” he lets out a strained laugh. He runs a hand through his hair. “It’ll all be fine. It’s me that’s struggling. As soon as the baby sleeps through the night, I’ll be back to normal.”
My father frowns and leans back. He’s always viewed caring for children as women’s work and I know he doesn’t approve of how involved Tony is with his children.
I look back at Tony. The exhaustion pulls the color from his face, and his hair lies haphazardly across his forehead, but there’s something in his smile I can’t stop looking at.
It’s minutes before I realize why I’m staring.
Fuck me, it’s fatherhood.
Tony’s wife Maria is his love match and he’s thrown himself into his family.
I want that. Need it.
Fatherhood. Having a family. A wife. I feel it from the depths of my soul.
Leading my own household is just a different side of the same coin when it comes to leading the Venittis. There’s a natural desire ingrained in us to aspire to raise a family of our own. To continue the lineage of power.
I’ve always known it was my fate. To start a family. The same way I’ve carried a gun and attended funerals.
But I can see it now. I can see myself as a father. The family I want to build is not as traditional as Tony’s but it would be powerful.
With Christina. And Enzo. What a powerhouse of a family we could become with me as the leader, Christina the law, and Enzo the reason.
The Venitti name deserves that. I deserve that.
The conversation happening drags my attention back to the present.
“Diaz figures he can take over the South American stronghold on trading with a little firepower and cash.”
“Maybe.”
“He’s been underestimated before; I don’t think we should do it again.”
“That’s why we’re building relationships with the Cinelosa Cartel.”
Everyone nods their heads in agreement, and it’s as good as official. Conversation breaks down as the meeting ends, and we head outside to christen the first shipment.
We all watch as the men pack the weapons into the hollowed-out drums of farm machinery. Tony brings a cigarette to his lips, the smoke visible against the darkening sky.
“To success,” my father holds up his tumbler of liquor. “And to Nico.”
“To Nico,” everyone chants in unison.
I raise my glass as well. It will be a success. I’ll make sure of it.
My success will not be because we made a flimsy sales agreement with the Cinelosa, but because I finally understand my destiny.
My future.
Christina will be my wife. That will be how I protect our future and build my legacy.
“And what are we going to do about the Riccis?” Giovanni asks.
I frown at him. I don’t like that he’s asking this question.
“Nothing,” my father says, shooting me a look. “We’ll play it off like we know nothing. Send someone on behalf of the family to offer our condolences and leave it at that.”
There’s no challenge from Giovanni.
I smile smugly, knowing that no matter the backlash, we’ll handle it. Somehow. Where the preparation lacks, the confidence will fill in the rest.