Chapter 33 – Luigi
Chapter Thirty-Three
Luigi
I ’m in the passenger side of Peter’s car so it’s not immediately apparent we’re pulling up on Renzo and Gino’s apartment at the Outer harbor. But according to Peter, Nicky might have dipped to spread the word.
“Great. Why the fuck do they have her and how many places should I shoot them before the end of the night?”
“It’s three a.m. The night is mostly over as it is,” Peter says with infuriating practicality. “They have a strange sense of honor. They just got back from Sicily. They have an old-fashioned culture.”
“What the hell about knocking up your girlfriend isn’t old-fashioned?”
“Is she really your girlfriend?”
“What the fuck kind of question is that, Peter? I’ve been bringing her around everywhere for several weeks. She lives with me. She spent weeks with Angela. Of course she’s my girlfriend.”
He sighs and shifts uncomfortably, like he wants to say something controversial, but he doesn’t exactly want me to bite his head off. I don’t give a fuck because I’m honestly in more of a head biting mood than I even want to admit right now.
“Speak your mind, Peter.”
“Why? So you can chop my fucking head off?”
“I’ll grab the steering wheel and kill the two of us if you don’t answer.”
“You’re crazy enough to do it too, you sick motherfucker,” Peter mutters. “Fine. I’ll say it. Nobody expects you to get into bed with a black girl. Are you happy?”
“I’m not getting into bed with her. I’m going to marry her.”
“Why all of a sudden? It’s not like you’re… you know everybody in our family has our unique tastes and never in my life have I seen you look twice at a black chick.”
“Does it really fucking matter?”
“What’s the motive here? That’s all I’m asking and it’s probably all your father wants to know.”
I didn’t enter this contract entirely of my own volition, but I don’t see why Peter or my father needs to know this.
This was all Angela’s plan and I went along with it because of dad’s desires for an heir.
But this wasn’t my idea. Angela did what she did and I worked out my differences with her.
I’m even pleased she has nothing to do with this, although I still question her whereabouts.
“There’s no motive.”
“She’s not a gold digger?”
“Do you not see how offensive that is?”
“I’m not saying you’re ugly or anything. Mikey’s the ugly one.”
“True,” I respond as patiently as I can. Mikey is the ugly one, but that’s besides the point right now. “There’s no motive. I like Delphine and we’re going to have a baby. I think the two of us could work.”
“She’s not Italian. You think she can handle learning Nonna’s gnocchi recipe from Angela, getting drunk on Easter Sunday before noon and how loud everyone gets on Thanksgiving?”
“Angela likes her. I don’t have anything to worry about there.”
“Okay, then. If it’s what you want, I’ll help you get her back and if you need back-up with your father, I’ll be there for you.”
“I can handle my father.”
“But not the twins.”
“The twins are far less reasonable.”
Peter parks his car out in the open. I support his choice to park exposed like this. My younger brothers have lost their minds if they think I would allow them to do something like this without retaliation. Peter is right to blame their time in Sicily for this emotional disturbance.
I knock on the door, but only because Peter gives me a warning book when I wind up my elbow to knock my brother’s door down.
“Open the fucking door or I swear I’ll open fire and gun down everyone in this building.”
Peter stopped me from carrying a gun. He has a gun, but only because he doesn’t trust me not to start spraying bullets the second I walk through the door. It’s self-interest more than anything else.
“Luigi is calm and reasonable,” Peter says to the door. “If you let us in, nobody has to die an excruciating death.”
“When is Mikey getting here?”
“Five minutes,” Peter mutters. “I doubt we’ll need him.”
Gino opens the door right before I’m about to lose my patience and grab Peter’s gun out of his hands. That would be some next level crazy shit that I don’t need to get into right now.
He wedges his body in the door frame so we can’t see around him.
“Who you got in there, kid?” Peter asks. “Because we need the pregnant lady.”
“Can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
A tall, cutting figure appears behind my brother.
Are you fucking serious? It’s Benny Gravina.
I only know him because it’s my job to know him, but I don’t have a goddamn clue how my brothers met this man.
His father has been making a power play for Carmine’s position in the Pittsburgh mob since his death and it wouldn’t surprise me if he had something to do with the nightclub bombing.
And he’s here.
“I’m here to buy the merchandise they promised me. I’m not leaving this city without a pregnant black woman.”
Peter and I exchange glances. It’s far more likely that he’ll be leaving this city in spirit, but physically remain here chopped up into little bits until he disintegrates.
Lake Erie isn’t a bad place to get tossed into after you get chopped up.
I know it’s morbid to think about, but one look at Benny Gravina, and all I want to do is chop him up.
He bears an eerie resemblance to Carmine, although they’re not related, but that height must have come from his Gravina side, right? He towers over Renzo and Gino. If I’d come here alone, I might not be as certain about my ability to overpower this man.
I speak authoritatively over Renzo who continues to separate us in the doorway, most likely just barely avoiding a flat out brawl between me and this man. I hope Peter knows the right time to use his firearm and doesn’t pussy around here.
“My twin brothers had no authority to promise you custody of any woman. For the sake of the truce between our families, you might want to head back to Pittsburgh.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
If Benny Gravina’s mob family had any type of discipline, he wouldn’t have come all the way here without the ability to recognize any member of the Taviani or Corsini family who might pose a threat to him.
Even the Amato family, the Caravellos, and the Pirrones who hold more minor positions within the organization are worth knowing by face.
Do these men not care about their lives?
“My name is Luigi. This is my cousin, Peter.”
Peter and Benny lock eyes for a moment. I don’t know if they’ve ever met, but Benny looks just as confused as before, so I can’t tell.
“Nice to meet you,” he says. “It seems you’ve heard of me.”
I shove past my younger brother, Renzo, with Peter at my right hand This pompous asshole needs to stop holding court immediately so my brothers can prove Delphine hasn’t fallen into any trouble.
“Hey, hey!” Benny protests. “I didn’t agree to this many people getting involved in the deal.”
“Deal’s off, buddy,” Peter says before pulling his pistol out and pointing it at Benny. “Sit the fuck down.”
Finally. Something useful – a gun.
Benny knows the drill and he sticks his hands up.
Gino and Renzo do too, probably because they know that while Peter might not have my temper, he’s the type to calmly kill one of them to demonstrate his point and he wouldn’t care which one.
We might be better leaders, but the Corsini family has always had a cold, long-term way of thinking.
They all make excellent advisors, my father said once.
If I ever ascend to the questionable goal of leading this family, I’ll eventually have either Peter or Mikey as my underboss and either seems like they would be an excellent choice.
“Take us to Delphine, or I pick a number at random and shoot one of you,” Peter says. “The other two will have to watch and clean up the other’s guts. Odds are pretty shit if you’re one of the twins. But things don’t look good for you either, Benny.”
They’re all so young and new to this, making them appropriately white-faced when confronted with Peter’s sinister threats. Once there’s enough silence for me to hear my thoughts, I hear the distinct sound of fists pounding on the floor above us.