Twenty-Four
Giovanni
One month later
I watch Vincent say goodbye to Jude and hang up the phone with a pained expression on his face.
“How are they?” I ask worriedly, leaning forward from my seat, my hands clasped together between my knees to calm my nerves.
“The same. They are both still struggling to put that night behind them. Still grieving James’ death,” Vincent explains, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They just need more time to heal.”
“What they need is us, Vince. Why haven’t we brought them home already?” I accuse, pissed we are still living in this infernal limbo.
Vincent’s face continues to hold his conflicted, suffering expression.
“Are you so eager to throw them back into this life of bloodshed? I thought I was the selfish prick between the two of us,” he snaps, leaning his head back against the chair. “Do you know what James’ last words to me were? He told me how disappointed he was that Selene sacrificed herself for a man who was too selfish to be able to do the same for her. I don’t want to be that man, Giovanni. I want to be better. She deserves better. They both do,” he laments sullenly.
“What are you saying?” I stutter, my throat closing in on itself with what Vincent is hinting on.
“I’m saying that maybe the best thing we can do for the ones we love is to give them the freedom to have a normal life and a true chance at happiness. Even if it means that we can’t be part of it.”
“You don’t mean that,” I bark, jumping to my feet in outrage.
“Don’t I?” he bellows, slamming his fist on the desk. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do to ensure their happiness, Giovanni. Nothing! That includes taking a step back from their lives and letting them live far away from the cruel realities we are faced with each day. Selene and Jude have earned their peace, and I, for one, will make sure they get it. Whatever the cost,” he adds sternly, shutting down my wants and desires completely.
Knowing when to wave the white flag in a discussion that will only end violently, I take my leave without giving him a further word in my defense. I’m so over this whole self-sacrifice shit. I’ve seen it all my life, and no one came out better because of it. Anna Maria was a freaking saint, and look how her life turned out.
Fuck that!
Right now, Vincent is just punishing himself for being unable to protect Selene against all the demons that have tormented her entire existence, and succumbing to fears that he’ll be unable to protect Jude, too. Never thought the fucker would be so insecure about his own abilities.
Fucking Ciro messed his head up good, just like he messed with our woman and kid. Thankfully that stronzo is nothing but ash in the wind now; as is Selene’s asshole of a father. I know that night was traumatic for everyone involved, but I’ve always been a glass-half-full type of guy, and with those two bastards dead and gone, my cup runneth over.
Hoping alcohol can salvage this crappy night, I head out to the club to drink my sorrows away. Of course, I’m not one tequila shot in when I feel Dom nudge my shoulder, then seat on the stool at my side.
“You look like shit,” he taunts with an amused grin.
“Feel like it, too,” I smirk, throwing him a glance. Look who’s talking . “Can’t say you look any better either.” He shrugs and orders us another four shots of Patrón. “See, you and I have the same mindset tonight.”
“What can I say? Misery loves company,” he mumbles, taking his two shots, one after the other. I wave to the bartender and ask for him to leave the bottle. It’s setting up to be one of those nights.
“You talk to Vince?” I ask him while refilling his two shot glasses to the rim.
“Yeah,” he mumbles, taking both shots back to back again.
“He give you the same speech on letting our family go, like he did to me?” I question as I give him another refill.
“Not in those words, but I got the gist,” he replies, this time brooding over his alcohol instead of plunging it down his throat.
“It ain’t right, Dom. He’s making a mistake,” I venture, finally letting the liquid burn down my own gullet.
“Is he though? I mean, Selene sacrificed herself for us. Made sure we were alive and breathing. Why can’t we give her the life she always dreamed about? You saw the same thing I did when we went back to Nashville to clean up the whole dead-husband mess. Selene and Jude have spent the last decade living as normals ; cute house filled with joyous memories plastered on every wall, with a damned backyard for Sunday lunches and even neighbors that give a shit. A far fucking cry from the way we grew up. They’ll be way happier there than here. They’ll have a much better life.”
“No, they won’t, because we aren’t in it! Dom, listen to me. None of us can be happy without each other. That is a fact, brother. Why should we put ourselves through this anguish when we can all be together at last? Nothing is stopping us. Only Vincent,” I holler aggravated.
“That’s not true. As long as we live by the syndicate rule, our lives will never be our own. Do you really want to bring Selene and Jude into the famiglia fold again? Would you be the one to hand the knife to Jude on his twelfth birthday so he can make his first kill as part of his initiation? Do you want him to have the same blood on his hands as we do? And can you honestly live with yourself, having Selene watch, helpless once more, as the most important person in her life sells a piece of his soul to an establishment that never protected her? How wrong is Vincent in wanting to save the woman he loves from any further pain the syndicate can inflict while shielding his son’s innocence against our way of life? Tell me, Giovanni, just how wrong is Vincent?” Dom rants, his eyes full of the same reprimand his lips were so successful in spilling.
“Shit,” I mumble, resting my forehead on the counter.
“That’s what I thought, asshole,” Dom sighs, patting my back in solidarity. I lift my head just a tad and give my beast of a friend a pleading look.
“There must be something we can do,” I murmur.
“Right now all we can do is to concentrate on business. Ciro’s attempted coup has left a bitter taste in the mouth of every capo in Chicago. And I didn’t like seeing so many good made men on his side, either. Makes it harder to know who to trust and all.”
“We can only trust ourselves.” I slump back in my seat, playing with the tequila shot in my hands.
“Ain’t that the truth? Salute ,” he belts, tapping my glass with his own, before drinking his shot and shoving mine down my throat. The burn is not as overpowering as the loose thoughts in my head, begging to take shape. Dom’s words start to trigger a plan in my mind, one that just might be the answer to all our problems.
“You notice how there was a lot of new blood under Ciro’s wing?”
“I did, and I didn’t like it,” he slurs, discontent.
“Yeah. Me neither. Thankfully we got all the treacherous bastards who were in cahoots with him, but I wonder if others didn’t feel a bit envious for not having switched sides in time to give Ciro a better advantage,” I relent, thinking out loud.
“What are you saying? You think someone else might make the same play against Vincent?”
“No, I’m saying what I’ve always said; the Outfit is an outdated institution, and it’s time for a change—one that will benefit us all,” I start to smile, the pieces fitting perfectly together in my mind’s eye.
“You’re kind of freaking me out with that Joker grin you’ve got going, Gio,” Dom interjects, his brows pressed together as he fingers through his beard.
I laugh from my belly, pure elation bubbling through my veins, and slap Dom on his shoulder, slamming my last drink in one big gulp.
“Come on, big guy. We’ve got to have a talk with Vincent, and then we are going to call a huge fucking meeting back at the Romano estate.”
“It’s almost midnight, Gio. Those old fuckers must be mid-snore by now.”
“Well, it’s time they wake the fuck up. And I’m happy to be the one to give them the wakeup call of a lifetime.”
Dominic and I stand on each side of a sitting Vincent, as every high-ranking capo takes their respective places around the table. With scowls and furrowed brows, they do as they are told but shift nervously in their seats; their beady eyes focused on the three items that are placed in front of them. Legal papers with their names on it, as well as their respective syndicate businesses, are placed face down on the table, with a pen on one side and a gun on the other. Once all of them have settled, I stroll to the back of the room and open the door to our other guests. As instructed, these younger made men take a spot behind each elder, demonstrating the same curiosity to tonight’s summoning. Once all the players are in their assigned positions, I walk to my original post, besides the capo dei capi, ready for him to do what he excels at—striking fear in the hearts of the unworthy while inspiring respect and loyalty from the honorable.
“Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” Vincent begins, even though their non-attendance was never a choice, even if it is three am and past some of these assholes’ bedtime. “These past few months this syndicate has gone through some major changes. We have made an alliance with the Calabrian family in Canada and retained the use of their casinos. The new friendships made with the Irish in Boston against the Cosa Nostra also proved to be rewarding. And of course, the demise of two traitors to our cause—Ciro LaSpina, and Silvio Bianchi. We have endured much change, but I’m here to tell you all, that this is only the beginning.”
“What type of changes are we talking about, Vincent?” questions one of the more pathetic, older leeches, who is far past his prime in the Outfit. I smirk at the general to his back, showcasing the same question in his eyes.
“The type that will revolutionize this syndicate forever. You see, when I took over as boss, I envisioned making the Outfit greater than it was. I thought that by obtaining new territory, such as New York, and gaining new alliances would get us all to the place we aspired to be. But I was wrong. How can we ever grow, when we fester and struggle with the current flaws of our syndicate laws? I lost sight of my true desires, but thankfully I was reminded of what they are and always have been,” Vincent announces, throwing me a glance of gratitude.
“Vincent, maybe it’s because of the ungodly hour you summoned us here, but I must say, I’m having a hard time following,” the old fart interjects.
Vincent’s cold glare sent in his direction is enough for the fucker to thin his lips and keep his mouth shut.
“First things first. Can I please ask the men standing to pick up the guns from the table?” With confused expressions, each young capo does as Vincent instructs. “Thank you. Now, gentlemen, what I’m proposing is not the revolution I had initially planned, but rather an evolution within the Outfit—a rectification long in the making. Please turn over and read the pages in front of you. There you will find contracts transferring control of all your business to the man behind you, relieving you of your Outfit duties. You will be awarded a small percentage of the profits so that you may keep your lavish lifestyles. But not a penny more will line your pockets from this day forth. Your crew and title will no longer be yours, as that, too, will pass to the capo standing behind you. This, gentlemen, is your retirement package. I thank you for the years you served empowering this institution, but your services will no longer be needed.”
The outraged commotion that follows, the gasps and pleas, is like music to my fucking ears. I might have come up with the idea, but Vincent’s follow-through is a thing of greatness. A true born leader determined to send this famiglia into a new era—one that I can’t wait to take advantage of. Vincent raises his hand to stop all further wailing from the greedy, ancient bastards and looks at each seated capo with brimstone in his gaze.
“You have all been given a choice. You can either use the pen to your right, to sign on the dotted line, or the eager capo at your back will be using the gun to end your miserable lives. One way or the other, your time with the Outfit is through. Pick your poison, gentlemen. I’ll wait.”
Vincent crosses his arms over his chest, watching each man slowly pick up the pen provided to them, to avoid the bullet to the back of their heads, as he so eloquently promised.
Half of my elaborate plan is fulfilled.
Once the elders are escorted out of the Romano estate, defeated, a new found electricity is buzzing in the air. The new heads at the table are young, ruthless, and most importantly, loyal to a fault. It took Vincent and me hours to select these specific made men. Not only were they hungry to thrive within the Outfit, but they also resented some of its laws—ones that we were all about to change.
Our honor and code to the syndicate will now reflect our own moralities, and in doing so, not only will we able to progress and evolve the Outfit into the new century, but will also lay out the footwork to get what we three have always yearned for.
Once the new capos leave, after all excitedly agreeing to the new terms, I slap my open palms on the table, with a Cheshire Cat grin on my face and hope in my heart.
“Well boys, now that that’s sorted, how about we get our girl back?”