Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
Angelo
“ Mayor James Morrissey resigned in the wake of the Mini Mardi Gras Scandal. The former mayor and Dr. Laurie Kohl have both been arrested for the misappropriation of funds of the charitable program known as Mini Mardi Gras. The charitable mission of the program was to bring the spirit of Carnival to children hospitalized with cancer. But according to the indictment, Dr. Khol embezzled those funds and funneled the money into a Political Action Committee for Mayor Morrissey’s campaign.
The Mayor, in turn, fraudulently expensed those funds for various campaign events, and the two split the money.
To cover for their elaborate scheme, the indictment alleges that Dr. Kohl stole her then-boyfriend Angelo Calvani’s credit card to purchase items for the Mini Mardi Gras parade ?—”
“She was never my girlfriend!” I shout at the reporter on the screen.
“ The City Council has appointed Angelo Calvani as interim mayor. The local businessman and philanthropist will be sworn to the position on Monday, where he will serve the remainder of former Mayor Morrissey’s term. After which, Mayor Calvani says he plans on running for election .”
I flip off the television in Remi’s new office and stroll down the hall to find her overseeing the renovations of the lounge. A second-floor VIP section of private boxes is being added; one reserved for myself and Nola, of course.
“Come look.” She grabs my hand, leading me across the new black and white checkerboard floor. “We’ve moved the stage to this side of the room, because the acoustics are better. What do you think of our jazz wall of fame? Too vain?”
The photo I snapped of Remi practicing on stage at The Boardroom is amongst photos of the jazz greats.
“Not vain enough; yours needs to be bigger,” I inform her.
She giggles, running her nails through my beard.
“I have to go handle some business.” Grabbing her hand, I kiss her fingers, one by one.
“Yes, Mr. Mayor.” Remi bats her eyes.
“Say that again when I move into my office at City Hall, on your knees underneath my desk.”
Her cheeks shade the loveliest shade of pink. “Not in front of Nola,” she whispers.
I attempt to give Nola a scratch, but still confined to the cone of shame, as Remi calls it, the cat hisses at me. “Still in the dog house with you, huh? I promise that when your new palace is complete, all will be forgiven.” Her enclosure at the weekend house is in the works as we speak.
I kiss Remi goodbye before Maks drives me across town to my brother’s Garden District house, one of our former family homes. The for sale sign in the front yard has me doing a double take.
I’m buzzed through the courtyard gate and ring the bell at the front door. My cousin answers. “Boss.”
Not for long , but I don’t correct him as he leads me to Vitto’s old office. Fabien’s seated behind the desk, and he rises when he sees me. “Little brother.”
“Big brother.”
“I’ll be in the basement.” Nic leaves us, closing the door.
I stroll across the room, taking a seat. “You’re selling the house?” Mama left Fabien this house, while she left me the weekend house. Smart move on her part. Fabien and I can’t share real estate. It’s still debatable whether we can share the same zip code.
He sits up straight behind the imposing desk. “This is Vitto Calvani’s palace, not mine.”
I nod, understanding completely. Crossing my leg at the ankle, I get down to business. “I’m ready to transfer power to you immediately.”
Fabien drums his fingers on the desk. “What’s the catch?”
“I’ll be sworn in next week as mayor, and with that position comes certain powers. I could run this city in alignment with Calvani family interests. Police chief. Public works department heads. Codes. Meter readers. Top to bottom friends of the family.”
“Still waiting on the catch.” Fabien leans back in his chair.
“I will scratch your back if you scratch mine, but only if you swear to keep family business out of the public eye.”
He snorts a laugh. “I can assure you, that lesson was learned the hard way. But I swear it. What else?”
“I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder, or over Remi’s shoulder, for the rest of our lives. New Orleans is our city, and we’re not going anywhere.”
Fabien crosses his arms. “My wife and I sure as shit aren’t going anywhere.”
“Then we swear a truce with a blood oath,” I tell him, reaching in my pocket and retrieving the ceremonial knife I used to slit Vitto’s throat.
“With the understanding that if you touch Sienna again, the only blood shed will be yours and your girl’s,” Fabien menaces.
“Understood. Now you need to understand this. Threaten my future wife again, and the only blood shed will be Sienna’s. Not yours, because I’ll keep you alive to make you watch.”
“When did you grow a spine?” Fabien taunts. “And congratulations to you on your engagement; condolences to Remi. Interestingly enough, my wife mentioned knowing your fiancée.”
“Small world.” I’ll let go of this bad blood between me and Fabien, but it will be up to Remi whether she’s willing to do the same with Sienna. “So, do we have a truce?” I get us back on track.
“We have a truce,” he says.
I waste no time pricking the palm of my hand and drawing a bead of blood. Sliding the blade across the table, I wait for Fabien to prick his, and he does so.
“Truce,” we both vow, and we shake on it, bound by blood.
“What else?” He tosses the knife in the air, catching it before he slides it back across the table to me.
“Complete ownership of my restaurant and hotel belongs to me, as both of those are my personal ventures. As for our seafood company, I’ll remain a one-third owner, with you and Al.”
“No objections to any of that. And your proposed buyout for the family side of things?” he presses.
“The twenty million you bilked out of me from the hotel deal. Plus, a fifty percent cut from your monthly take of illegitimate earnings while I’m mayor, the proceeds funneled through said personal ventures. Oh, and I get to break your finger.”
Fabien throws his head back with laughter. “You still holding on to that?”
“Yes.” The muscles in my jaw tighten. “With a crooked finger.”
“Ten million, and twenty percent,” he counters.
“Twenty million, forty percent, and your dislocated finger. Final offer.” He doesn’t respond, and I lean forward in my chair. “If there’s no agreement, then you can find out for yourself how inconvenient it is when the mayor wages war against organized crime.”
He chuckles. “You actually make a hell of a boss. Vitto would be proud.”
“Vitto can rot in hell,” I say with venom.
He studies me for a beat. “And here I thought I was the only one that man terrorized.”
“Maybe we’ll exchange war stories another time. Do we have a deal?”
“Deal.”
We rise, and Fabien extends his hand. Grabbing his index finger, I snap it out of socket.
“Fuck!” he screams, his finger hanging limply.
“Don’t be a baby,” I chide as I pop it back into place with a satisfying crunch , and he screams again.
“Happy?” He bares his teeth, cradling his finger, which is now turning a lovely shade of purple and doubling in size.
“Very.” I laugh.
“Pretentious prick.” He spits at me.
“Let’s go make the announcement.”
We both head for the door, reaching it at the same time as we try to squeeze through the tight space. “The boss goes first.” Fabien shoves me.
“I’m still the boss until you’re sworn in, so I go first.” I shove him back.
“If you two don’t stop, I’ll pop you both and take over this entire empire.” Al appears, her backpack flung over her shoulder.
“Sure you will, kiddo.” Fabien ruffles Al’s hair as she squeals in protest.
“You’re still grounded,” I remind her as Fabien and I squeeze through the doorway and sprint for the basement stairs. He shoves his way past me, and I kick the back of his calf, and his leg buckles as I plow past him.
My calf receives a blow, my leg buckling as he darts past me.
I lunge forward, taking him down the remaining steps with a shoulder tackle, the two of us tussling at the foot of the steps.
Someone clears their throat, a reminder that the entire damn family is here, waiting on the boss—that would still be me—to make an announcement.
“Enough.” I hiss at Fabien, and we rise from the floor, both of us straightening our suits.
“Gentlemen, welcome,” both Fabien and I say in unison. I eyeball my brother, and he shuts his mouth. “In case any of you haven’t heard the news, I’ve been named mayor of New Orleans.”
“That’s great, boss.” My biggest ass kissing capo pipes up.
I nod. “With my mayoral duties, I will be unable to lead this family. I’ve decided to step down permanently and name Fabien Calvani as boss.”
Shocked silence.
“Gentlemen, we are here to swear in the new boss of this family.” As soon as I hand Fabien the knife, it crosses my mind that he could slit my throat, just as I did Vitto’s during my ceremony; by the look in his eyes, the thought crosses his mind too.
But Fabien pricks his palm and makes a fist, and the red droplets fall onto the family Bible.
“Congratulations, boss.” I shake hands with my brother, and the men cheer. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“Hold up. You’re not leaving without a parting gift.” Fabien snaps his fingers, and two men enter the basement carrying a medical chair.
“We swore a blood truce,” I whisper furiously at him.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” he whispers furiously right back. “We’re getting you properly inked.”
My path to becoming the boss was unconventional, and I never received the family tattoo when I was made.
Shrugging out of my jacket, I undo my tie and get to work on the buttons. Both get discarded, and I take a seat, extending my right arm.
The artist sketches out the words vertically on my right bicep before he begins moving the needle.
La famiglia prima di tutto
While I’m in the chair, I get another tattoo inked for Remi: a small butterfly shot out of a cannon directed at my heart, with Amorina written in script.
I’m not sure which is more shocking to the men: the peaceful transfer of power or my tattoo choice.
My new tattoos get bandaged up, and I work the buttons of my shirt.
Boom.
The foundation of the house rattles violently, and Fabien and I sprint up the stairs, flinging the door open.
All that’s left of my vehicle is a burning shell, with Maks futilely attempting to put out the blaze with a fire extinguisher.
“Molotov cocktail,” he shouts. “Stay inside.”
“I thought you handled the Kirksey problem!” I sprint through the house in search of Al, with Fabien hot on my heels.
“I’m working on it!”
Al appears in the hallway, and we skitter to a stop. “Was that a bomb? I can’t believe I missed it!”
I stab my brother in the chest with my crooked finger. “Act like the fucking boss and fix this before I’m sworn in. Oh, and you owe me a new vehicle.”
He curses.
“Al, get in the panic room,” I tell my sister before I’m on the phone with Remi’s new bodyguard, wanting my fiancée on lockdown as a precaution.
“Can’t believe I only clipped that fucker!” Al exclaims.
“Did you give her a gun?” Fabien’s words drip with judgment.
I bristle. “You’re questioning my child-rearing style after being away for nearly ten years?”
“I’m not a fucking child!” Al stops her foot.
“Get in the panic room,” both Fabien and I say at the same time.
“You know what’s worse than one controlling Calvani brother? Two!” Flipping her newly dyed blonde hair that’s in a braid, she stomps her cowboy boots down the hall.
“Wear that home at your own risk; you know Nola doesn’t like country music,” I call after her. Our sister has replaced goth girl with Nashville Broadway girl.
Fabien looks at me like I’ve gone insane. “I don’t even know who you fucking are.”
I know who I am, and I feel…
I feel?
A smile tugs my lips because this is all Remi’s doing.
I slap my brother on the back. “Kill Kirksey. That’s what you fucking need to know.”