The Leone Crime Family Box Set

by B. B. Hamel

  I took a long sip and tried to think about our next move.

  10

  Mona

  About fifty times that night, I thought about getting up and leaving.

  There was no reason to stay. His father hated me, and if the Don of the crime family wanted me gone, then I’d be gone.

  But now that I’d signed away all my rights, his father could tank me at any moment. Even if I wrote a perfect article, he could swoop in, tell me that it wasn’t perfect enough, and screw me over.

  I was so angry with Vince. We had a deal, and he’d gone back on his deal and made me sign that bullshit. Now I had no power and no guarantee that anything would work out in my favor. I might put myself through all this, put myself in this danger, and still end up screwed and with nothing to show for it.

  But I didn’t leave. I took off my dress, put on comfortable clothes, and stewed in that strange bed. I stared at the ceiling, listening to cars drive past outside, and tried to imagine what I’d gain by leaving versus what I’d lose by staying.

  In the end, even if there was the tiniest chance of getting a good article from all this, I had to see it through.

  I couldn’t help myself. I was too curious about that snake, about Vince’s reaction to it, about the way the Don so clearly despised me with all his being.

  I had to stay and find out what happened next.

  Or maybe, if I was being honest with myself, maybe it was more.

  Maybe it was that look Vince had given me when he’d come up the stairs as I left my room to take a shower earlier that night, when he caught me in nothing but a towel wrapped around my chest.

  His eyes took me in and I saw hunger there, pure and simple hunger.

  It made me writhe and bite my lip.

  Sometime around midnight, I drifted off. I had some dreams, restless and surreal, and woke up early with sunlight streaming in through my window. I was groggy as I sat up, rubbed my eyes, tried to understand the strange, unfamiliar room around me.

  I took a second to remember that I was living with a total stranger.

  I got out of bed, went into the bathroom, got myself together. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, then headed downstairs. The house was quiet, and for a second I thought I’d find it empty.

  Instead, I found Vince sitting at the table with a newspaper in front of him.

  He looked up and tilted his head. “Morning,” he said.

  “Morning.” I drifted toward the table. “Coffee?”

  “In the pot,” he said, nodding at the kitchen. “There are bagels in a bag and some cream cheese in the refrigerator if you want.”

  “Thanks.” I headed into the kitchen, got myself some coffee and a bagel, put a little cream cheese on it, and drifted back into the main room.

  He stared at me and folded down the Wall Street Journal. I nodded at it and cocked my head.

  “You don’t read online?” I asked.

  “I like physical papers still,” he said. “Grabbed this while I was out.”

  “How long have you been awake?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t sleep much.”

  “Oh, right.” I lingered then walked to the table and sat down. The contract from the night before was gone, swept away and filed at his father’s place already, I’d be willing to bet.

  Roberto probably drove over special just to grab it, that weird bald bastard.

  “You asked me some questions I never got to answer last night,” he said as I drank my coffee and ate some bagel. “You still want answers?”

  I shrugged. “I guess so.”

  He leaned toward me. “You can’t write a good article if you’re going to act like that,” he said.

  “Like what?”

  “Like none of this matters.” He stared at me, a little smile on his face. “You know you can still make it through this, right? My father isn’t omniscient. He’s not everywhere at once.”

  “Doesn’t make a difference,” I said, staring at the table. “He has all the power now.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Vince said. “Just do what you can do and let me handle my father.”

  I shrugged and turned my head away.

  He let out a breath and stood. For a second, I thought he was going to storm off. But instead, he came around the table and dropped the paper next to me.

  “Go ahead and read it if you want,” he said. “I’m getting changed. We’re leaving in ten.”

  I looked up at him. “I’m not ready yet.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “You look perfect.”

  “I’m in ripped jeans and an old shirt.”

  “Like I said.” He turned away and walked to the steps. I watched him disappear upstairs then turned back to the paper.

  It was turned to a page toward the back. The story at the very top read, CRIME BOSS TAKES PLEA DEAL.

  I scanned the article and leaned over it. It was about a mobster from Chicago that plead guilty to six counts of murder, two counts of aggravated assault, and a truckload of other financial crimes. Apparently, he was going away for a very, very long time.

  I didn’t know what to make of it. I pushed the paper away, finished the bagel as fast as I could, and manage to burn my tongue on the coffee.

  Vince came back down ten minutes later in a fresh suit. His hair was pushed back and I had to admit, he looked really good with his top two buttons undone, showing off just a touch of his muscular chest.

  “Come on,” he said.

  I got up and followed him outside. We got into his BMW and he pulled out into traffic.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “We’re taking a tour,” he said. “A little tour of the city.”

  “Yeah?” I cocked my head. “I know this city pretty well already.”

  “Not like I do.” He turned down a side street and slowed a bit. “This block belongs to a little gang called the Mencios. Little guys, no big deal. They pay fealty to my father, and otherwise get to run their shit.” We drove slow past a bunch of guys sitting on a corner stoop with big white t-shirts and white sneakers. They nodded at Vince as he waved to them.

  He drove a few more blocks, turned right. “This is more Leone territory,” he said. “That business there, the dry cleaner’s? I own that, and I own the place down here on the left, the pawn shop.”

  “How many businesses do you own around here?” I asked.

  “Ten right now,” he said. “Used to be more, but I sold off the ones that weren’t profitable.”

  “I didn’t know they needed to actually make money.”

  He laughed. “They don’t, but it helps.”

  We drove through more neighborhoods and he pointed out more mob-owned stores, talked about other little gangs. There were the Two Hats, the Chainz, the 616ers, the Twelve Shots, the Gustin Gang, the Vagos. On and on, gangs of all sizes, all of them working in some way for the Leone Crime Family.

  He took me west and up a few more blocks, closer to Center City.

  “This is Russian territory,” he said. “Most of the spots around here, they run. Their territory used to extend further south, but we’ve been taking it from them, bit by bit.”

  “Weren’t they your biggest competitor for a while?” I asked.

  He nodded. “For a long, long time. But shit changed recently, things went haywire for them, and we swooped in.”

  “Huh,” I said, then laughed a little. “I like that you’re admitting it now, you know.”

  He gave me a look. “Don’t ruin this.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Anyway.” He drove further up, toward Fairmount and the Art Museum. “More Russian territory,” he said. “Up north, we own some of the blocks, but mostly it’s smaller gangs fighting it out. We tend to stay away from that petty shit.”

  “You’re the big boys then,” I said.

  “I like to think of us as the adults in the room,” he said with smirk. “We’re the businessmen. We’re in this for money and power, not for pride. This
is a long game for us.”

  “You’d think it would be a long game for them, too.”

  “To some of them it is,” he said, his voice soft. “But so many of these gang boys can’t see a long game, can’t think past the next few days or weeks. They grew up thinking they’d never make it past their twentieth birthday.”

  “That’s terrible,” I said.

  “Yeah, well, that’s the way shit goes.” He pulled around Fairmount and drove slow toward Eastern State Penitentiary.

  “Last night, I asked you why the Jalisco sent you that snake skeleton,” I said. “Are you ready to tell me now?”

  He took a deep breath and nodded. “You see how much territory my people own,” he said. “And you see how much the Russians still have.”

  “You have more,” I said.

  “But they’re still significant. We’re the biggest, but they’re the second biggest.”

  “What’s that have to do with the Jalisco?”

  He hesitates, tensed his jaw, let it go.

  “My father’s in talks with the Russians,” he said. “They want to make an alliance. Bring the families together, bring them closer.”

  I blinked and shook my head. “Wait, what?”

  “He thinks it makes sense,” he said with a sneer. “The two biggest families owning and ruling the whole damn city. Now that the Russians are on the fence and getting pushed back every day, they’re willing to negotiate. My father thinks it’s smarter to keep his opponent around, at least a little bit, so it’ll take some heat off us, keep the cops looking at the Russians for a while.”

  I chewed my cheek and shifted in my seat as he turned down Nineteenth Street and headed south again.

  “You don’t agree with that,” I said.

  “No,” he said. “I don’t. If the decision were mine, I’d kill the Russians off and own this place outright. Letting them live is only going to let them regain strength so they can fight us for real one day in the future. And meanwhile, everyone in the city will know we’re the main power, Russians or not.”

  I nodded slowly. “Makes sense to me.”

  “My father doesn’t see it that way.” He grunted and shook his head. We rolled past a baseball field with kids practicing in the outfield. “He thinks we’re stronger united.”

  He didn’t speak again as we kept moving south. I watched him, breathing deep and slow. There was so much going on in the city that I didn’t know about, so much fighting, so many gangs, so many groups. It was a teeming pile of roots, tangled together, a mass of violence and drugs and power.

  I could understand why young men would be drawn to it.

  And as I watched Vince drive, I thought back to that box, to the snake inside, and the note underneath it.

  Join and die.

  “The Jalisco don’t want you to go through with this alliance,” I said.

  He smiled a little. “I knew you’d get there,” he said.

  I glared at him. “Don’t patronize me.”

  He laughed and gestured. “It’s simple. The Jalisco don’t want competition. They don’t want to do a deal with the Russians. They want our family to take over, and once we do, we’ll lose some negotiating leverage. But if we work together with the Russians, we’ll be able to squeeze the Jalisco, find sources of drugs elsewhere.”

  “So they’re trying to block whatever you’re setting up,” she said.

  “That’s my guess, anyway.” He slowed and stopped for a light then turned to me. “So now you know what you’re getting yourself into. One of the most volatile, dangerous times in the whole history of this damn city, and now a major cartel is getting involved.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath and felt sweat trickle down my back.

  “You’re really making me feel good here.”

  He smiled and rolled forward as the light turned green.

  “Just want you to understand,” he said. “That’s all.”

  We lapsed into silence and I stared out the window. Every block that flashed past, every business, every street corner with young men hanging around on stoops, everything looked like it was connected, another root added to the pile.

  And in my head, it all led back to Vince and his father.

  11

  Vince

  After driving Mona around the city, I headed toward South Philly and the heart of our territory. There was a little bakery run by a former Capo tucked in a quiet residential area that made good espresso and even better pastries. I parked out front, got out, and went to help Mona out, but she’d already climbed onto the sidewalk.

  I gave her a look then nodded at the bakery.

  “This place is owned by one of ours,” I said. “My former Capo, actually.”

  “Looks nice,” she said. “Like a cute little hipster spot.”

  I snorted. “Tell him that,” I said. “He’ll love it.”

  “I have a feeling I shouldn’t ever criticize a mobster’s personal bakery.”

  “That’s a very good feeling to have,” I said and turned to the door.

  I walked inside with Mona on my heels. The bakery had changed a little since the last time I saw it. I’d only visited once or twice early on when it first opened, but I hadn’t been in the city in a little while. The counters were wooden, polished smooth, and the display case looked like it’d been updated. Otherwise, it felt like any other modern coffee place, with an industrial design mixed with natural wood accents. The lighting was low and there was nondescript indie rock playing through speakers hidden in the ceiling. There were baskets behind the counter filled to the brim with different types of bread, and the display case was packed full of pastries.

  I half turned to say something to Mona when the table in the back right corner caught my eye. I stopped and stared at an old familiar face.

  He was deep in conversation with an older white-haired woman in khaki slacks. He reached out and touched her hand, said something in a low whisper, and she nodded.

  “Thank you, Dante,” she said and stood.

  “Any time, Doris,” he said and saw me grinning at him.

  He grinned back as the old woman turned and hobbled away. She slipped past me with a smile and I nodded to her before taking a few steps over toward Dante’s table.

  He stayed standing and spread out his arms.

  “You motherfucker,” he said.

  I laughed and walked over. I shook his hand hard then pulled him in for a one-armed hug. He laughed and pushed me away, a hand on my shoulder.

  “How long’s it been?” I asked.

  “A couple years at least,” he said.

  “Shit, can’t be that long.”

  He shook his head. “Has to be. I haven’t seen you since I got together with Aida.”

  “Oh, I heard about her,” I said. “How’s that going?”

  “Not going too bad,” he said and his eyes drifted over my shoulder. “Looks like you got your own thing going.”

  I turned back to look at pretty Mona and smirked. “Dante, this is Mona,” I said. “She’s a journalist.”

  Dante hesitated then shook her hand. “Nice to meet you,” he said.

  “You too,” she said.

  “What’s a nice young woman like you doing with this guy?” he asked. “I mean, shit, you know who he is, right?”

  “That’s the reason I’m here,” she said.

  “She’s writing an article about me,” I said. “Thinks I’m a worthy subject.”

  “No wonder newspapers are dying,” Dante said.

  Mona laughed and looked up at me. “Oh, he’s not so bad,” she said. “I mean, he’s an arrogant jerk, but aren’t you all?”

  Dante laughed at that and gave me a look. “I like her,” he said.

  “Look, I didn’t mean to interrupt your community time,” I said.

  But Dante shook his head. “Sit with me, go on, take a seat.” He snapped his fingers and a bored-looking dark-haired kid behind the counter looked up. “Get two espressos for us, will you?”


  The kid rolled his eyes, but got to work making them.

  Dante sat down and I let Mona take the seat across from him. I pulled a chair up next to her and leaned back, crossing my legs.

  “I gotta ask,” Dante said, “does your father know about this whole article thing?”

  I nodded. “He knows. He’s not happy about it.”

  “Big shock there,” he said

  “What, you don’t approve either?” I asked.

  He held up his hands. “Not my place to judge,” he said. “You got your own shit going, Vince.”

  “Look at this,” I said. “Dante pretending like he doesn’t have an opinion.”

  Dante laughed and looked at Mona. “How much do you know about this guy?”

  “I know he’s the son of your boss,” she said. “I know he’s arrogant and spoiled.”

  “So she knows everything then,” Dante said.

  I laughed and shook my head. “She doesn’t know shit, my man,” I said.

  “Probably true,” he agreed.

  “Enlighten me then.” She gave Dante a little smile and tilted her head.

  “Tell her a good story, Dante,” I said.

  “You want a good story, or a story she probably shouldn’t hear?”

  “Tell me whatever you think will impress me,” she said.

  Dante grinned and stroked his chin. The dark-haired kid came over with two espressos, put them down in front of us, and stomped back to the front counter.

  “All right,” Dante said. “I got one. Vince, you remember the time we knocked over that liquor store?”

  “Oh, god,” I said and groaned. “Don’t tell her that.”

  “Tell me,” Mona said. “Come on. Now you have to.”

  “We were young,” Dante said. “A couple of years into the crew, you know what I mean? Young and hungry back then. Sergio wanted us to do something to prove that we had some guts, and in retrospect I think he was just trying to keep us busy.”

  “Definitely trying to keep us busy,” I said. “We were always at each other’s throats back then.”

  “Just wanted to make sure nobody got killed by accident,” Dante said and laughed.