Chapter 7 – Nico
While the upper echelons of our organizations made every effort to blend in with high society, the workforce of the mob gathered in three or four local destinations.
Stepping into the trattoria felt like coming home.
Luna Luce was a fifth-generation restaurant, and the history was plastered over the walls.
Pietro Gallo and his sons were ruthless soldiers when duty called, but no one would know the plump cook and his teddy bear sons were anything more than East Coast Italian-Americans who could make simple ingredients taste like heaven.
“Nico! Amico mio, come stai?” Luigi shouted.
“Bene, é tu?” I spoke with a note of warmth.
Men rose from their aperitivo. Coming forward, they took turns clapping me on the back.
“We didn’t know you were in town.” Luigi fake punched my stomach. “When did you get back?”
“Last week.” I braced for another hit. This one packed more force.
“What? And you didn’t tell us?” my oldest friend accused. “No cool, Dommy-boy. Not cool.”
A weight slid from my shoulder to hear his voice.
Most of these men were the crew I used to run with back in the day.
My father trusted them implicitly, and he insisted I learn the ropes from them.
How could I lead them someday if I didn’t understand the nuts and bolts of the business?
And that was exactly what I’d done. While my grandfather would rather schmooze with the capos, the aristocracy, and the dirty business colleagues, my father thought it was important that I gain the trust of these men.
To be honest, I’d been dreading this reunion.
After three years away, a secret part of me thought the soldiers would have forgotten me. Or worse, hated me for killing a sworn member without orders. But as they each took their turn embracing me, shaking my hand, sharing a joke or teasing me, I wasn’t sure I was so scared of this moment.
“I know, I know,” I laughed. “I should have come here last weekend, but I had to check in with a potential business associate. Forgive me?”
They rumbled like a pack of happy, eager hounds.
As they pulled me to a central table, they talked over one another.
Dozens of voices rose and fell, each engaging in conversation, retelling tales of the past three years.
They weren’t speaking directly to me, breaking off to laugh together, participants in their stories or listening to one another with rapt interest.
I managed to snag Luigi’s eye. My chin tipped to the side in an imperceptible nod. He shot me a wink and then ambled back to the kitchen to shout at his father.
***
“There’s rumbling with a Camorra faction,” Daddy Giuseppe grunted.
Standing out back, under the guise of taking a smoke break with the old man, Luigi, Joey, and I formed a tight semi-circle around the girthy cook.
Emanuele knocked through the back door, shutting it with a slam behind him. “They’re all drinking to your health, amico.”
I grimaced. “I don’t know what for.”
“Shut up, kid. You fuckin’ know why,” Giuseppe’s accent was thicker than the stew he served. “You’re back, which means things can straighten out for us.”
“Cops breathing down our necks, casinos selling dope, construction projects stalled for this or that.” Joey flicked his lighter open and shut. “Things took a hit when your old man died, but it was nearly as cadostropic when you left.”
“Catastrophic,” his father corrected.
Joey waved him off. “The fact is, things are going to the shitter—Owe!”
Giuseppe smacked his prodigy upside the head. “Don’t you wave me off, junior. When I’m talkin’ to you, you listen.”
Joey rubbed his head and glowered.
Fuck…. I missed this.
It was good to be back.
But the bigger question loomed in the distance, rumbling like the storm cloud it was. My grandfather and father hadn’t seen eye-to-eye, and the don and I sure as hell didn’t either. Yet these men were looking to me as their savoir.
“You’ve got a hunger in your eye, kid,” Giuseppe pushed, rubbing his hands together. “Mind sharing your plans?”
I worked my jaw back and forth. “It isn’t that I don’t trust you with them—because I do. With my life, probably my soul. Right now, I don’t have a clear idea how to proceed.”
“But you coming back means you’ll take over the family business?” Giuseppe insisted.
I shot him a hard look. “You’re talking treason.”
The old man shrugged. “It’s only treason if my side doesn’t win.”
“I can’t make any outright moves against the don,” I kept my voice low as I answered.
The burly cook didn’t do the same. “If you don’t do something soon, there might not be a throne for you to take.”
His sons nodded in agreement.
“Things have gone from bad to worse,” Joey muttered, shooting his dad a side glance.
“The don’s policies aren’t good for business,” Emanuelle agreed.
I groaned. There was too much to fix, and not enough time to do it. “It won’t be easy. I’ll start small.”
Giuseppe nodded. “Your fuckin’ cousins are gonna be swarming like wasps, ready to sting.
They thought with you outta the picture, it was time to impress your nonno.
The fact that he hasn’t let one of them date that little princess he has holed up in his castle means he’s been waiting. Waiting for you, I think.”
“I’ll give up my claim before I marry that girl,” I bit out.
Giuseppe gestured with both hands. “Why? Good looking gal, nice Catholic upbringing. What more can you want?”
The sons hummed in agreement with their father. It was no doubt painfully clear to them. Leading the family was the prize. Arabella was just a small price to pay.
But the thought of touching her made me sick.
Voicing that would be a mistake. So would the admission that I didn’t feel ready, didn’t feel qualified for the job dear old nonno was pushing me toward. My father was supposed to be alive; he was supposed to rule. My turn wouldn’t come into question until I was at least fifty.
Yet these men—and by default the soldiers inside—saw me as the natural leader.
“Nah, she’s just young,” I brushed off the topic. “What job you working tonight, boys?”
“I’m working a shift down at the casino. Bouncer.” Which was code for muscle and enforcer.
I turned from Emanuele. Joey was on a shipment detail. But Luigi saved the best for last.
“There’s some pesky sausage eaters who’ve been snooping around one of our warehouses. Me and a couple of guys are gonna chase ‘em out, maybe catch a few too.”
“Count me in.” I clapped his shoulder.
“You’re free tonight?” Giuseppe eyed me skeptically.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” I countered.
The cook shrugged. “Would have thought you’d be at the casino, rubbing elbows with some of the big brass.”
That was what my grandfather expected me to do. Which was why I was here, planning to cut some of our enemy down.
“The don had a long lunch with the capos, which I sat in on. Don’t need to go with them to the casino right away. I’ll make an appearance around midnight.” Wear the monkey suit, dance to their tune. But only after I worked out the tension knotting my shoulders and let the boiling red steam out.
Otherwise, I might do something stupid and end up with cinderblocks tied to my ankles, left at the mouth of the bay. There would be no exile this time.