Chapter 42
LITTLE ITALY
Revenge was a dish best served cold. Luca knew this.
He undoubtably knew this. But pure ferociousness was pumping through him now, that kind of unfettered, dangerous rage that you always hoped you were never capable of, had definitely seen from others and had sworn that was not the person you were but…
He burst through the door of the bar, the scent of unlawful cigar smoke hanging in the air, along with the essence of scotch and jackass. Sonny, the owner of the establishment, saw him first.
‘Jesus Christ,’ he exclaimed, making the sign of the cross over his chest. ‘Now, Marcello, I don’t want any trouble in here.’
‘Shut the fuck up,’ Luca hissed. ‘And don’t even think about touching that gun under your counter…
or the one you think no one knows about on the bottom shelf.
’ He scanned the patrons. Half a dozen he didn’t know, three or four he did, his brain reconned what he knew about them as his eyes found who they were looking for.
Ronnie. The man went to stand up, but before he could, Luca was in front of him.
‘Sit back down, you fat fuck!’ He pushed him down into his seat and Ronnie rocked back in it until eventually he came to a balance. ‘Don’t you fucking move!’
Ronnie held his hands up. ‘OK, tough guy, let’s keep it down though, shall we? I don’t think any of us here wants anyone calling the cops.’
‘You’re right,’ Luca snarled. ‘This time you are so right.’
‘Good, kid. Good, so—’
‘I said shut your mouth. I’m doing the talking and you are gonna listen.’ He pointed a finger, trembling, but not with fear, with boiling anger. Ronnie held his hands up again.
‘You can tell that fucking headcase that calls himself my father I will see him. Once. One fucking time. And that’s it!
Then it’s over! All this stops!’ Spittle flew from his mouth.
‘When you hurt the people I care about, that crosses a line with me and, believe me, if he thinks he’s got the golden accolade for that, he’s very much fucking mistaken! ’
It was a red mist. In his head. In his eyes. Totally visible. As real as it could get. He felt it but, in this moment, he wasn’t in charge of it and he hated it as much as he was currently relying on it.
‘The only message I want from you now is the date and time of this visit. Then we’re done and I don’t want to see you anywhere near me or anywhere near anyone associated with me ever again.
Is that clear?’ He put a vice-like grip on Ronnie’s shoulder, red liquid dripping from him and onto his father’s right-hand man.
‘No sabotaging dresses, no breaking into homes, no attacking my friends and no coming at me with a bucket of whatever or whoever this shit is!’ He swiped a hand at the fluid on his body and flicked it with his fingers until it flew onto Ronnie’s face.
‘What?’ Ronnie frowned, deep furrows in his lined face.
‘You fucking heard me!’
‘Yeah, I heard you but I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about. Dresses? Attacking people?’
‘Bullshit, Ronnie! This has you and the “family” written all over it.’
Ronnie made a move and straightaway, on some kind of inbuilt instinct, Luca had his hands in a lock he wasn’t letting go of.
‘Marcello! Quit that, it fucking hurts.’ Ronnie’s expression quivered for a moment as Luca increased the pressure but then the thug laughed, ironically, manically. ‘Your father taught me that. It’s good to know it works.’
‘I’m warning you, Ronnie. Don’t fuck with me.’
‘I’m not fucking with you,’ Ronnie stated, face back to contorting with strained pain. ‘I know nothing about any dress or any other shit or whatever paint job someone has done on you.’
Internally Luca felt the ferocious fire start to burn in a different direction. This couldn’t be. But he knew Ronnie’s style, if he said he knew nothing then he knew nothing. The henchman had no reason to lie now. So, what happened next?
‘Give my father the message,’ Luca snarled. ‘And keep out of my whole orbit, Ronnie. Got it?’
He didn’t wait for a reply. He let go of Ronnie’s hands with force and the man went flying backwards in the chair that tipped up and left him sprawling on the floor.
Luca started to walk back toward the door of the bar until Ronnie shouted out again.
‘Marcello! Listen to me!’
Luca turned around and faced the man still wriggling like a rotund worm on the floor.
‘What you said about attacks and breaking in… you know, maybe we have a problem that needs attention.’
‘“We” isn’t even a thing, Ronnie. Get that.’
‘Marcello, if this—’
‘No,’ Luca roared, pointing a finger. ‘And my name is fucking Manning.’
He wasn’t waiting around for a second longer. He needed to wash his body of the red liquid and delete the detestable company he’d been forced to interact with from his mind. To the sound of ‘Holly Jolly Christmas’ playing over the sound system, Luca stepped out onto the sidewalk.