Chapter 32
DAMIANO
Big Gee likes to meet in one of the Family-run strip clubs out in Brooklyn. They’re the kind of place that opens day and night, but Big Gee shuts it down for Family meetings. And in the cold light of the afternoon, it feels like the most depressing fucking place in New York.
The floor is sticky and the place smells like spilled alcohol and cheap body spray.
It’s not like the strip joint is ever particularly glamorous, even during opening hours.
But two hours ago, I was sitting on a silk love seat in Gramercy Park, drinking tea from fine china cups.
The contrast is so stark it makes me wonder how Big Gee can stand this kind of place.
He’s rolling in it, just like I am. Doing better, even.
But this is where he likes to spend his time.
I arrive at about the same time as Sebastiano Conti, who gives me an upward nod in greeting as we both approach the door together. “Any idea what the meeting’s for?” I ask him.
“No idea,” he says abruptly. He’s worried.
Inside, the room is filled with men all about our age.
The old guard has gone, pushed out or blown up.
After Jimmy G went down in Chicago, his son didn’t waste much time changing the faces that were left.
He wasn’t much interested in legacy knowledge.
And it’s not like anyone complained, except the old guys who got retired out.
Under Big Gee, profits have tripled. I went from making bank to making the whole damn mint.
When the Clemenzas collapsed, business boomed.
Everyone was making money. And everything, thanks to Luca D’Amato, was stable.
I’m not sure how long that’ll last.
Because looking around this room, I smell change in the air. Everyone here is young, hungry, and looking for a fight. I was the same, up until recently. If there was one other thing I wanted in life apart from the Clemenza, it was to see the Giulianos on top.
These days…
I’m no traitor. But the more I think about Big Gee and compare him to Seb, the worse the Boss looks.
Seb glances my way, and I kill the thought out of habit. He’d make me eat my own teeth if he knew I was thinking it. And now he’s giving me the kind of look that tells me to brace myself.
We all pull up a seat around a bunch of sticky-topped tables, and a barely-dressed waitress appears to give out drinks.
She’s trying to smile, and that smile is the saddest thing in the room.
One of the younger Capos—Russo, the loudmouth who runs the Red Hook crew—grabs at her and tries to pull her onto his lap.
“Get your hands off her,” Seb growls at him. Big Gee was chuckling along, but now waves at Russo, indicating agreement.
The woman hands out the drinks as fast as she can and then scurries away.
I take a sip of mine and almost spit it out.
Vodka? Since when the fuck did Big Gee develop a taste for vodka?
Might as well be paint thinner. But everyone seems to be knocking it back alright, or pretending it doesn’t bother them.
Finally, we begin. Big Gee wants the Capos to report on their crews. The accountant gives us the quarter’s numbers, which are strong. I give a heads-up about underperforming crews, and Big Gee sits there grinning away like he has something in his back pocket.
He’s in a good mood. Expansive, confident, his chest puffed out. And I know him well enough to know it means he’s made a decision. He thinks it’s a good one.
And at last, we get to it. “Everyone’s been doing real good work,” Big Gee says, looking around the circle.
“But I think we can do better. In fact, I know we can. What’s holding us back?
These pointless alliances we got tied to by my old man.
He was doing what he thought was right at the time, God rest his soul, but we all know who should be running this city, and it ain’t the damn Morellis. ”
A murmur of agreement runs through the room. Seb and I find each other’s eyes.
Whatever else the Morellis have done to New York, they’ve kept the soil fertile. Grass doesn’t grow on rocks, and right now, we’re looking at a fucking jungle out there, just ready to harvest.
If we get rid of D’Amato and his people, there’s no guarantee that will continue. In fact, it’s a guarantee that it won’t, because the Rossis won’t stand by idle, and who knows what the Alessis—
“I’ve been having meetings around town,” Big Gee goes on, before I can even get the lay of the land clear in my head.
“Talking to people who feel the same way we do. And so here’s what we’re gonna do.
We’re gonna take down Luca D’Amato and the rest of those Morelli fuckers, and we’re gonna restore how things used to be.
The Giulianos and the Clemenzas ran this town before them, along with the Vicarios.
Now the Vees and Cees are gone. And the only thing stopping us from taking over is that motherfucker who set up the New York Commission without even asking us. ”
The more I hear, the more my gut tightens. Seb’s face tells me he feels the same.
Everyone else? They look like kids on Christmas morning.
Maybe they don’t remember what it cost the Morellis and the Clemenzas when they went up against each other.
There’s a reason the new Commission was established after the old one blew up, and we have plenty of enemies in this city outside the Italians.
And then things get worse.
“So I been talking with the Bratva,” Big Gee announces. “I know a lot of us don’t love ’em,” he says, glancing at Seb, “but they have the same goals we do. And one of them in particular has offered to help us. Guy called Daniel King.”
Daniel fucking King?
I hear Tiberius Vicario’s voice again, the curious, almost pitying look in his eyes. “Oh. Don’t you know?”
This is what that asshole was hinting at. Big Gee and King have been talking. Cutting a deal. And if King was looking to get into bed with the Giulianos, he might not have wanted to jeopardize an alliance by openly interfering with me at the auction.
Seb leans forward, thunder in his face. “Brother,” he says, and there’s a warning in the word. “We made vows to the Commission. We can’t just throw them aside because it suits us better to partner up with someone else. And besides, the Bratva have no honor. They’re not the kind of allies we—”
“This ain’t a fucking discussion,” Big Gee says heavily. He expected cheers, not pushback. He looks around the circle, disgust on his face. “What are you all, a bunch of cowards? A bunch of queers and women got you hiding and crying? That’s all the Morellis are these days.”
“Boss,” Seb says sharply. “It’s not about courage. Allying with the Bratva against the other Italian Families is inviting outsiders into a conflict that should be settled among ourselves. If you’ve got a problem with D’Amato—”
“Of course you’d be on his side,” Big Gee sneers. “You probably sucked his dick yourself.”
The room goes silent. Big Gee has never said anything so openly about his brother’s sexuality. Never so insulting, either.
Even Seb seems taken aback, but he goes on doggedly.
“It’s not about the Morellis. It’s about the Bratva.
They don’t have allies, they have assets.
We wouldn’t be a partner, just a tool. King is looking for cannon fodder, and when the dust settles, he’ll step in to take over everything.
I don’t trust them, and neither should you. ”
You could hear a pin drop in the silence that follows. Seb has never challenged his brother so openly. He’s done it with respect, but he’s done it in public.
I think that might be where he fucked up.
“He’s right,” I say, because someone has to back him. “I hate D’Amato just as much as you do, Boss, but the Bratva can’t be trusted. I’ve seen how King operates.”
Big Gee gets that obstinate look on his face as he pushes his chin forward and glares at me.
“I don’t fucking pay you for strategy, Orsini.
Stick to what you’re good at.” He looks back at Seb.
“And I won’t tolerate disrespect, even from you, Conti.
I don’t give a fuck what you two think. I don’t give a fuck what any of you think.
This is what’s happening. So get on board. ”
He looks around the room, and the first one to speak is Russo. He’s always hated Seb and me, so it’s no surprise to hear him say, “I’m with you, Boss.”
The next one follows fast, and then the next, until the whole room is nodding and agreeing.
Big Gee’s ego is satisfied, and he’s grinning again. “Looks like the rest of them know a good deal when they hear it,” he says to Seb. And then he turns to me. “As for you, Orsini, you should be thanking me. It’s your lucky fucking day.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I mean D’Amato doesn’t get to throw his weight around anymore, say who’s protected and who ain’t. You’ll finally get your revenge on the Clemenzas. The Bratva want the same thing you do, so as a gesture of good faith to cement the alliance, I agreed to King’s terms.”
“What terms?” Seb demands.
“Orsini hands over the Clemenza kid to the Bratva, and in return we’ll have all the guns and all the men we ask for. There’s a war coming, gentlemen. Time to have some fun.”
The room erupts. Cheers, fists hitting tables, the sound of men who think they’ve just been handed a winning hand.
“No,” I say into the joyful howls. “No,” I say again when they fall quiet, staring at me. “The Clemenza belongs to me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Big Gee chuckles. “You should be fucking celebrating, Orsini.”
“I paid ten million dollars for the Clemenza. He belongs to me.”
Big Gee waves an irritated hand. “King thought of that already. Said he’d return the money. He just wants the kid. It’s personal. Lou Clemenza was always a pain in their ass. You want him dead. He’ll be dead. What does it matter who kills him?”
“It matters to me,” I snap.
But Big Gee’s patience has run out. “You hand over the Clemenza, or I’ll hand you over to the Bratva in his place,” he tells me.
“King was even willing to overlook the fact that you killed his best earner, along with giving back the ten mill. You can’t say fairer than that, and you fucking won’t.
You’ll give him the kid, and the alliance moves forward. ”
This is my Don. This is the man I swore loyalty to, the embodiment of the Family I’ve bled for, whose mark I carry on my skin.
But all my service, every enemy I put down, every fucking scar I’ve taken—he’s willing to trade all of it away in a back-room deal with the goddamn Russians. And there’s nothing I can do about it.
Not if I want to keep breathing.
There’s silence again for a few seconds before Sebastiano Conti gets to his feet. “You can’t do that,” he says calmly. “That’s not how we do things.”
“I can do whatever the fuck I like,” Big Gee snaps, also getting to his feet, his bodyguards crowding in behind him. “As for you, Conti, get the fuck out of here. You come back when you’ve found your manners again.”
Seb stares at him for a few moments before turning on his heel and stalking out of the room. I hear the door slam behind him.
I wish I could go with him, but I can’t seem to make my legs work right now.
“I’m glad to see you’ve come to your senses,” Big Gee says to me, misreading my frozen state for agreement. “All I ask for is loyalty. If my own brother can’t give it to me, maybe I need to look for some new hires.”
I look around and realize that I’m alone, despite the fact that the room is crowded. The rest of the men are chuckling and nodding about their Underboss getting sent away like a naughty kid.
“When?” I get out through stiff lips. “When do I have to…”
“I’m a generous guy,” Big Gee says. “End of the week. Let’s say you take him back to the Obelisk on Sunday morning.
That way you can get a few licks of your own in before you hand him over.
Any way you wanna do that, am I right?” He grins around the room, and they laugh like they’re at a comedy club.
“In my experience, the Giulianos don’t stay cool for long,” Nick Fontana told me. And I refused to listen.
I rise with the other men and file out.
It’s Monday afternoon now. So I have five days. Five days to figure out what I’m going to do.
I can’t hand Caligula over. I knew that the second Big Gee said the words, knew it in my body before my brain had any say. But I can’t protect him, either. Not from the Giulianos and the Bratva combined. And not without burning down everything I’ve ever been.
After the basement, he kept asking me—when was I going to kill him? Kept pushing, wanting to know the schedule.
Well. Now I have one.
But if Caligula Clemenza has to die, it’ll be by my hand. Not King’s. Not the Bratva’s. And not whoever’s been hunting him. Mine. Because I’m the only person with a justified reason to do it.
And I’m the only person in this city who will make it quick and easy, hold him while it happens, and never forget the color of his eyes.
That’s the only mercy I can give him now.