Chapter 4
Gio
The Green Parrot is crowded as usual. It’s a popular place in a shit neighborhood on the South Side of Chicago. We come here all the time to meet with potential clients, but usually it’s just to pick up payments.
Tonight, the stakes are higher. I sit at a table with my father, a glass of whisky in my hand while he puffs away on his cigar. I take a long sip and glance at him.
“Let me do the talking,” I say.
“Why?” he grunts.
“Because I’ll be the one doing the job.” My voice is hard, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m the elder here. They came to me.”
“No,” I say, trying to keep my annoyance under control. “If you want to do the talking, you can do the killing.”
He looks at me, eyebrows raised. “That how it is now?”
I stare back at him, but we both know I’m bluffing.
My father may be a piece of shit asshole, but I owe him everything.
He’s still family, even if sometimes I wish he wasn’t.
Without him, my darkness would have consumed me a long, long time ago.
But at the same time, it’s because of him that it’s even there.
I don’t have a chance to respond because up toward the front of the bar, the doors open and grab my attention.
In walks Marco Romano, the second-in-command, and second most important man in the entire familia, followed by Alex and Angelo, two of my cousins.
They’re there for muscle and show, but they aren’t necessary.
Nobody would dare touch Marco. He has the full weight of the Romano familia behind him, and any dumb fuck that came at him would invite the wrath of the whole fucking mob down on his head.
They’d go for his family and torture them all in front of him and then kill him. The Romanos don’t fuck around.
The tips of my fingers trail up and down the glass as they walk into the bar.
“They sent Marco,” my father says to me underneath his breath, sounding surprised.
I have to admit that I’m surprised as well. Normally we don’t deal with the top members of the Romano familia, at least not in person. Sending Marco here to talk with us is an honor. As much as I don’t want to get too involved, I do feel a surge of pride that they’re showing us this respect.
But it also means that this hit is very, very important to them.
I knew that when we got the target, but now it’s very clear how seriously they’re taking it.
My eyes dip to the floor and my body heats as I realize how pissed off they’re going to be when I turn them down.
I can already see that my father’s excited and fucking delighted that they sent someone as powerful as Marco to this deal, and he stands up to show the proper respect.
I stand also as the men approach the table, but I’m prepared to disappoint them. I don’t give a fuck who asks me to do it. I’m not going to be held responsible for this shit.
“Bruno,” Marco says with a smirk, “you look good, you old bastard.”
“Marco.” My father and Marco shake hands. I’m pretty sure that they’re very distant cousins, maybe related by a distant marriage. I’m not sure. It’s all so fucking boring and complicated though. They’re no family to me.
“Gio,” Marco says, turning to me. We shake hands. “You look just like your mother.”
“Thanks,” I say. I suspect the reference to my mother was designed to throw me off balance, but I keep my face and tone neutral.
“Sit, sit,” my father says quickly, gesturing to the empty seats. Marco takes a seat at the head of the table, the feet of the chair scratching along the floor as he pulls it out. Alex and Angelo sit at a nearby table without another word, looking serious and tough.
I give them a little grin, but they don’t look at me, and don't make eye contact. I know they’re afraid of me, and have been since we were all boys.
I remember when I was ten and Angelo was thirteen.
He tried to take my bike, and I beat the fucking piss out of him. He’s been afraid of me ever since then.
And he should be fucking afraid.
“I’m honored that you came to this meeting,” my father says, practically deep throating Marco’s cock. I straighten my shoulders and turn my attention to Marco.
“It’s an important meeting with our best men,” Marco says in return.
We are his best hitmen, that’s true, but he’s buttering us up pretty fucking hard. I can smell the shit he’s trying to shove down our throats from a mile away, and I know where this is going.
“Let’s talk business,” I say before my father can steal any more momentum.
“Okay Gio,” Marco says, smiling at me. He’s in his fifties, and only a few years younger than my father.
His teeth are straight and white, and his hair is cropped close to his scalp.
He wears a dark suit complete with a crisp, white pocket square, like always, and I can see the bulge of the weapon in the holster on his side.
He looks like a used car salesman wearing an expensive suit, and that’s more or less accurate.
Assuming used car salesmen extort, murder, deal in prostitution, and generally engage in all manner of illegal shit.
“You’re offering us triple for this job,” I say, leaning toward him. “That’s more than fair, given the situation.”
“I thought you’d think so.” His eyes sparkle and his lips turn up, as if he thinks we’re eager to accept.
“Except you neglected to talk about the politics involved.” He holds my gaze, but that glint in his eyes fades.
“The politics?” he asks, feigning innocence. He waves his hand in the air as if dismissing it. As if taking out a major member of the Rossi familia means nothing.
“If we do this job, it’ll spark a war. You know this, and yet you want us to do it anyway.”
“I don’t know anything about a war,” he says, the smile still there.
“Okay, fine. It’s none of our business, I know that. We’re not in the familia.”
“Yet,” Marco says, cutting in with a glance to my father.
I can practically see my father salivating at the comment.
“But it will involve us,” I say before my father can speak up, feeling my irritation rise. “Regardless of the outcome.”
“Do you want more money?” he asks me straight.
“It’s not the money.” I shake my head slightly, keeping eye contact.
“You’re hesitant. I can understand that. You’re young, and don’t know how the world works yet.”
I clench my jaw and have to restrain myself from smashing his face into the hard maple table top. “This is a dangerous job regardless of my age.”
“How about this,” he says. “I’ll throw in the niece of our, uh, target. You can take her and train her for us. Or at least break her down some. You know the drill. I hear she’s quite a beauty.”
I’m taken aback. A woman. They’re giving us a woman. What the fuck? The familia has never made an offer like that before. That’s not an aspect of this business I’m associated with. My father is though.
He quickly speaks up before I can even process the extent of what Marco offered.
To train? My body’s stiff with the memories of my past flashing before my eyes as my father answers him.
“We’d be honored, Marco,” he says. “Gio will accept the woman and turn her into the perfect model of obedience for you.” I’ve seen what they do.
I know exactly what they want. I recall the sounds, the images.
My father standing over a girl, a whip in his hands, a smile on his face.
My heart races as I try to ignore my recollections.
“You want a slave, he’ll make her fucking perfect. Isn’t that right, Gio?”
My father stares at me waiting for an answer, and I’m at a loss for words. I know what they mean by training, and I’ve seen it a million times, but I’ve never taken part. I’ve never done anything but witnessed it when I was a boy.
I’m barely able to nod my head.
“Very good,” Marco says, and my father shakes his hand. “You two will do this contract, and you,” Marco points at me, “will break the girl in. I’m sure your father has taught you a thing or two.” Marco winks at my father, who grins proudly. “Then we'll discuss your full payment.”
I blink, surprised. My father has a huge smile on his face. Before I can speak up and tell them that we won’t be taking the contract, Marco stands. My father stands with him, and the two men glance at me. I stand as well, shaken and surprised at this turn of events.
“I trust that you two will come through,” Marco says.
“Of course,” my father responds.
“Good.” Marco nods at me. “Gio, I’ll send you the details so you can pick up the bonus.”
Marco turns and leaves, followed by my cousins.
I grip onto the table as they leave us. “What the fuck just happened?” I hiss at my father.
“I accepted the job,” he says, glaring at me. “What the fuck was that?”
“Nothing,” I say, looking away. I can’t admit to any weakness, especially not now. Not to anyone.
“We’re doing this job,” he says, his tone low and menacing. “You’ll take the girl, and you’ll do what you need to do. Understood?”
“We’ll see,” I push the words out through clenched teeth.