by Kelly Wood
Antonio and Costa shook hands and headed in opposite directions. Franky had the door open and waited for Antonio to enter the back seat, but instead, Antonio moved to sit in the front seat with Franky. Franky shook his head slightly and shut the door.
In the front seat, Antonio was quiet and pensive. Franky left him to his thoughts while he concentrated on how to find out who the woman was with Costa. Maybe Antonio had some business that would bring Franky in her path again. One could only hope.
Franky drove through the bright streets. Everything about Vegas was over the top. The lights, the gambling, the drinking, and, especially, the shows. Franky enjoyed the indulgences while still feeling disgusted with them. Growing up with nothing—well, less than nothing really—made a man want to hold onto whatever he earned. Franky had a growing nest egg already while the tourists who came here only wanted the excess. Too many people to count had lost their life’s earnings at the tables. Franky wouldn’t be one of them.
“Franky, tell me, what do ya think of Garrett Costa?” Antonio’s question pulled Franky from his thoughts, but the distraction was welcome. Franky was hoping for an opening to ask about the woman with Costa and Antonio had given it to him.
“He’s smart.”
“But, is he trustworthy?”
“What are you getting at, Mr. Bianchi?” Franky tried to feel out what Bianchi was looking for instead of answering and putting his foot in his mouth.
“If it came down between Milano and Costa, who would you put your money on?”
Franky thought for a moment before answering. Picking the wrong pony could lead to a very short life with these men. Costa’s age went for and against him. In one regard, it brought forward thinking. Being able to look at how the world was changing and adapt to it. It prevented him from being stuck with ‘because that’s the way it is.’ Franky hated that saying. He wanted answers and reasoning for not changing and adapting. On the negative side, Costa hadn’t quite yet garnered the respect that old man Milano had. Milano headed up the third family that ruled Las Vegas and had thirty years on Costa on how to manage the family. Costa’s power was clear, but did he really have the long-term holding potential that Milano did?
Micky Milano had controlled the Milano family since before Franky was born. He ruled with an iron fist. Shooting first and asking questions later. He had taken control after the Kefauver Hearings of the 1950s. A Tennessee senator named Estes Kefauver had gone on an organized crime hunt across America. The Las Vegas trials had only lasted a day, but they opened the doorway for any families in need of restructuring. Micky Milano had risen to the top of his family after only a few years and had stayed there. His most trusted allies tended to “retire” after only a few years. This paved the way for a new set. Milano kept his cards close to his chest. It always surprised Franky that Milano had a never-ending line of men wanting to work close to him. To Franky, it was a dead-end job. Literally and figuratively.
“I’d put my money on Costa,” Franky said after much thought. He rubbed his jaw with his right hand. The left hand still on the steering wheel, keeping the car straight and on track. They were about a mile from the hotel and Franky’s time was running short on how to broach the subject of his dream girl. She was quickly coming to be his top priority.
“Explain yourself.”
“Milano is tough, but he rules with fear. He’s had control for as long as I can remember and then some. The constant change-over and killing sprees get old. His crews are primed for the taking. They will want a safer choice. Well, as safe as you can get in this line of work. Costa has the brains to manipulate that weakness. He’ll get Milano’s guys wanting to switch teams without them even knowing it. And they’ll be fool enough to go, thinking it’s a safer bet.”
“You don’t think it would be?”
“Hell no. Costa could never really trust them so he’ll keep them low man as a precaution. Any one of them that makes a move to climb the ladder will never stay up long. Costa may look smooth, but he’s deadly and smart.” Franky chanced a glance at Bianchi. “What’s he planning, Boss?”
“Nuttin’, nuttin’. I was just playing around with some stuff.” Antonio turned his head to look out the passenger window, pretending to be interested in sights he’d seen a million times.
“Boss, you mind if I ask you something?” Franky tried for a casual tone.
“Sure, kid.”
“Who was the broad with Costa and his wife? I’ve never seen her around before.” Antonio turned back to Franky, a knowing look in his eyes.
“The wife’s cousin, I guess. Her folks were just killed over in Ohio. Car accident, or so they say. Name’s Gracie.”
Franky stopped at a red light. They were only a block from the hotel, almost home. Frank decided to try his luck with asking about the girl some more, but as he turned to Antonio, another car pulled alongside them. The glint of a gun’s barrel poking through the open window.
Chapter Eight
“Tell me about your Uncle Bob. I hear he’s your guy?” I emphasized each word.
Gray glanced at me before turning his eyes back to the road. We were headed back to the Magari. Dinner had wrapped up rather uneventfully. Dessert had been served with coffee and a side of tension. Michael seemed to like the idea of having me as a daughter-in-law while Mary Francis was definitely set against it. Dead set against it. I felt comfortable in my analysis since she used those exact words.
Thankfully, Uncle Bob had my back. He raved for the rest of the meal about what a great addition I would make to the family since Gray and I did our thing and rarely came to Vegas anyway.
“I knew you’d like him,” Gray said.
“I loved him. How in the world is it possible that he and your mother are related?”
“God only knows. What do you want to know?”
“What does he do?”
“Nothing,” Gray said.
“Where does he live?”
“Nowhere.”
“Where does he go?” I asked.
“Everywhere.”
“I’m going to need more words, please.” I poked Gray in the side.
“Uncle Bob was a surprise to Grandma and Grandpa. He’s only ten years older than me. Mom was almost twenty when he was born.”
“You said ‘Mom.’”
“What am I supposed to call her?”
“You usually call her ‘Mother.’”
“That’s because that’s what she wants to be called. ‘There’s nothing wrong with being formal and polite’ is what she always says.” Gray mimicked his mother’s voice, high-pitched and elegant.
“Okay, so your mom was twenty when Bob was born. They seem so different.”
“They are night and day. Mom stands on formality and politeness and appearance while Bob likes to break the barriers,” Gray said.
“But what does he do?” I asked again.
“Nothing. He’s a jet-setting playboy. I hardly even know where he is in the world or who he is with. He hasn’t worked a day in his life. My grandparents died shortly after Bob turned eighteen, leaving him and Mom all of their money.”
“And your trust fund?”
“Yes. My siblings and I all have trust funds.” Gray recently came clean about his trust fund while we were in Chicago. I’d had no idea of the amount of money available to him at a moment’s notice. The revelation had shocked me. I still felt uncomfortable knowing I didn’t have to pinch my pennies any longer. I still would out of habit. Their money could just as easily be taken away. I glanced at my purse, feeling the weight of the American Express Black Card recently added to my wallet. I’d yet to use it, still making purchases on my trusty debit card with my small income from writing.
“If Bob is a playboy, how can he be your guy?”
“From the outside, he may look the part of the rich playboy, but he’s not. He’s got his fingers in any illegal activities wherever he is. He doesn’t necessarily take part, but he makes contact. He has to for his own safet
y.”
“Why? What do you mean?”
“He’s the brother-in-law of a major crime family. He could be kidnapped or killed as retaliation against my father.”
I hesitated in asking but forced myself. “Like his son and daughter-in-law?”
Gray let some time lapse before answering while I held my breath. “Yes, Regan. There could be moments where we are in danger. But, I didn’t grow up in this life without learning a few things along the way.” Gray rested his hand on my knee. For once, the touch didn’t give me comfort. My mind reeled at the possibility of living a dangerous life. Once again, I was forced to question my choices. I needed to think long and hard about entering into this marriage. Even more so than the potential risks.
Blue-and-red flashing lights from police cars blocked the entrance to the hotel. Gray continued on the road and then pulled into the garage at the Magari.
“I wonder what that’s about?” Gray asked.
“Probably from the jumper earlier,” I suggested.
“Their lights wouldn’t be on if this weren’t something new.” Gray turned off the car. “I’ll walk you up, but I’d feel better about staying here with you.”
The thought made me jump. I needed some space to digest the information from the evening. I wouldn’t be able to think clearly with Gray’s body pressed against mine.
“No. I mean, I love it, but it’s just...” I stopped talking. Gray took a step back and extended his arm toward the hotel entrance. I followed the path while Gray walked next me but didn’t touch me.
“Regan, I’d feel safer being here with you.”
“I’m just tired. What’s the big deal? I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’ve told you the big deal.” Irritation flashed across Gray’s face.
“So, I’m supposed to feel safe with you and your family, but not here?” I turned away from Gray and continued to follow the hallway. Like cattle being led to the slaughter, we followed the way to the casino. We had to cross through the room full of machines to reach the elevators.
“You shouldn’t feel safe with anyone but me. Not here in Vegas.”
“I’ll take the warning to heart, but I’m staying here. I want to spend time with my sister. And, if it’s so dangerous, how could I leave her?” I didn’t give him time to answer before I kept talking. “Tell me more about the family things,” I said, hoping to distract him from our disagreement. I reached out with my hand and tucked it inside of his as we walked.
“The family?”
“You know, like what you were telling me earlier today.”
“Oh, the family, you mean. Well, let’s see...” Gray looked around the casino.
“How about more on the hierarchy? I find it interesting that the family is similar to a corporation.”
“A deadly corporation,” Gray said. “Let’s see, when Frank was being trained by Antonio, he was considered an Underboss. He was Antonio’s mouthpiece.”
“Are Sal and Tony Frank’s Underbosses?”
“Yes and no. They are Frank’s mouthpieces, but unlike Frank, they have no real power. Frank was the second most powerful person under Antonio,” Gray said.
“Okay, so the street crew members actually do the crimes, the Capos run the street crews and report to the Underboss. The Underboss reports to the Don. Why are they called Dons?” I asked.
“Because Don in Italian means boss.”
“That’s a boring answer.” In my mind, the first mafia family had been run by a man named Don who was such a legend that only his first name needed to carry on. Like Napoleon. Everyone knows Napoleon. And Madonna.
“So, the street crew members are like factory workers, getting dirty and doing all of the heavy liftings. The ‘made men’ are like the shift supervisors, walking around, not doing much, but getting all of the credit. The Capos are the managers, basically pushing paper and handing out disciplinary action if necessary. The Underboss is the vice president, the one everyone sees. The big boss, so to speak. The Don is the president, the man in the ivory tower. He never gets his hands dirty with day-to-day dealings but gets all of the power and glory and money. I got it.”
“I think you’ve mastered it.” The elevator dinged and the doors opened. We entered and I pushed the button for our floor before snuggling back into Gray’s side.
“How do the Dons keep their power?” I asked.
“Honestly? Reputation. Make a name for yourself early. Be deadly and cunning. People will learn to get out of your way.”
“But how do they keep it?”
“By knowing everything. Everyone’s secrets.” I pondered this. After our trip to Chicago, I could see the power in knowing secrets. I could also see the power in hiding secrets. In all of my questions, fear kept me from asking the most important ones. Who was Michael’s Underboss? Where did Gray fit in? One day, would Gray be expected to come back here and take over?
The elevator spit us out on the twentieth floor. I led Gray down the hallway to my room, the room keycard ready in my hand. Two men in suits were standing near my door. I nodded an acknowledgement to them and walked past. Gray took a step closer to me and eyed the men. Voices and laughter floated through the door. I hoped Passion wasn’t having a party. I wasn’t up for cocktails and entertainment anymore tonight.
I pushed the door open, pausing in the entry. Passion and Frank were standing by the balcony doors. Passion’s cheeks were flushed a bright pink. The color enhanced her already beautiful face. All color drained from Frank’s face. Tension filled the room, confusing me.
“Um, hey,” I said. Gray pressed up to my back. I glanced over my shoulder to sneak a peek at him. Gray nodded at his Uncle Frank.
“Gray, Regan. Welcome.” Frank snapped out of his trance. He extended his hand to me while walking over. He clasped my hand in between both of his pulling me into the room. Gray must’ve followed because I heard the door shut behind me.
“Hello, Mr. Donato,” I said.
“Call me Frank. Did I see your name on my schedule in a few days?” I blushed at the intensity of his gaze.
“Yes. I’m covering your grand re-opening party And, of course, I hope to be taking in my sister’s show, too, while I’m here.”
“Regan’s a writer, Uncle Frank,” Gray said.
“Fascinating. I look forward to it. I just stopped down here to talk to Passion about the party myself.”
“Sorry to interrupt.” I glanced between Frank and Passion. Passion waved her hand in the air like it was no big deal. Frank let go of my hand to reach into his pocket. He pulled out a cell phone, his face scrunching in displeasure.
“Unfortunately, I must run. Always a problem somewhere in a hotel this size.” Frank slipped his phone back into his pocket, looking distracted.
“I hope everything is okay,” I said.
“It’ll be fine. Just a construction snafu that came to light. It’ll be fixed by morning.” Frank said his goodbyes and left the room.
A construction snafu that involved the police? I wondered.
Passion, Gray and I stood staring at one another, nobody speaking. A giant, pink elephant was standing somewhere in the room, but I seemed to be the only one who didn’t know what it was about.
Chapter Nine
“We’re going to have to move up this wedding if all we do is cuddle now,” I said to Gray upon waking up. Gray put the kibosh on any sexy time until the wedding night. I liked the idea of it, but the reality wasn’t so much fun.
“We can get married at any time. Let’s get your parents out here.” Gray rolled over in the bed to face me. I snuggled into his arms laying my head on his chest.
“Where would we get married?” I asked.
“Here. There’s a chapel right downstairs.”
“What about your parent’s casino? Why haven’t you shown it to me?” Gray’s hand traced circles on my back. The movement was lulling me back to sleep. If he kept it up, he’d never get me out of bed today.
“Our casino isn�
�t like this one. Frank is very involved; the staff know his face. Ours is managed by a company. My parents aren’t involved in the day-to-day stuff at all. I don’t even know if the employees would recognize any of us if we walked in.”
“Isn’t that weird?”
“My family is weird.” Gray rolled me onto my back, his weight pressing into me. He kissed my neck. The sleepiness left me as blood coursed through my body.
“Tell me more about them.”
“Like?”
“Like where did it start? The mob thing.” Gray rolled again. This time finishing with me on top. I rested my chin against my folded hands and looked at him. Gray’s hands traced lightly up and down my spine. I resisted the urge to laugh, the touching tickled slightly.
“I don’t know exactly. It’s been there for generations.”
“Why don’t your parents go to the hotel?”
“That I can answer.” Gray raised his head for a quick kiss. “When I was young, my father tried to separate himself from the criminal activity. He turned the hotel over to a managing board to distance himself from my grandfather. Grandpa was old school gangsta. He liked to be seen and to intimidate. The casino was his kingdom.”
“I find this fascinating.”
“Don’t.” Gray’s hands stopped moving. “This is fascinating, Regan. I know you are romanticizing the story, but it is much worse than that. It’s dangerous and it’s real.”
“Then why did you bring me here?” I kept my eyes locked on him, wanting to see the truth in his answer.
“Because it was the right thing to do.” I ignored my promise to end my bad habit and rolled my eyes. Gray grabbed my chin between his thumb and finger, forcing me to look at him. “Don’t mock it. I couldn’t marry you without you knowing. It wouldn’t have been fair to you and it would’ve eaten away at me, ultimately ruining us. This will be your life, Regan. Even if we never come back here, this will follow you. Do you understand?”