The Toil and Trouble Trilogy, Book One

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The Toil and Trouble Trilogy, Book One Page 10

by Val St. Crowe


  * * *

  Saturday is the day we usually go through money and figure out what kind of earnings the family has brought in. It’s been an entire week since Guido was shot. I can hardly believe it. Even though I’ve only had three days of selling charms outside the play, I’ve done pretty well. Brice was right. More people have been coming to the show every night. They’re all interested in purchasing charms. We nearly ran out last night—Friday. Luckily, it doesn’t take Brice much time to make more. I can bring him a box of charms, and he just puts his hand over it, makes some blue sparks come out, and I’ve got a whole bunch more magic charms.

  What works well about the setup is that no one suspects the jettatori of selling stuff on the street, so my guys look just like normal street vendors, hocking jewelry to the theater-goers. I like it because we’ve been able to work directly under the nose of the police thus far. While the vendors aren’t strictly supposed to be there either, not without a permit, the police don’t spend too much time trying to stop them. I think I’ve stumbled onto a winner here. And it’s all because of Brice.

  When I bring in my money on Saturday, everyone is pretty impressed. We count it all up. I’m doing better than the family usually does. And my earnings have totally blown Vincent out of the water. Vincent is not happy about this. I can tell.

  They counted his money first, and he’d seemed pretty pleased with himself. As they’re counting my money, however, he begins to get more and more agitated. His face gets red. By the time they’re done, he gets out of his seat, knocking the chair over. It clatters against the ground.

  He points at me. “You’re rigging it somehow.”

  I grin at him. “Rigging it, Vincent? We sell stuff illegally. How much worse could I rig it, anyway?”

  “This is a pretty impressive take,” says Tommy. “You’re doing something different, aren’t you?”

  I shrug. “Yeah. I’m trying something out. We’ll see how it goes.”

  Vincent is fuming. He addresses everyone else at the table. “That bitch has no right being here. She’s a girl. Hell, how do we know she’s not just spreading her legs for that money?”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Last week, you were calling me a dyke. Now people would pay to screw me. Which is it, Vincent?”

  “Fuck you,” he says. “I’m going to show you. There won’t be a cunt running this family. There just won’t.” He storms out of the deli, the door crashing behind him.

  It’s quiet for a few minutes. I’m holding a stack of money, prepared to start putting it in the safe we keep in the back of the deli. I don’t move. I’d expected Vincent to be pissed, but he seems to be overreacting a little bit.

  “Don’t worry about him,” says Tommy. “He’s jealous.”

  “He’s acting like a kid,” says one of the guys whose working with Vincent, “but he’s not wrong about it being kind of a problem to have a woman running things here. I mean, what will the other families say?”

  There’s a murmur of agreement. Apparently, they’d only gone along with what my father said because they were convinced I’d never beat Vincent. That makes me angry. I’ve been battling this since day one. But instead of yelling and screaming, which will just make me look even more female and hysterical, I stay calm. “I think you’re all forgetting who my father is.”

  No one says anything.

  I wave the stack of cash at them. “I have the highest Calabrese pedigree going for me. And since my father didn’t have any male children, we can only assume I’ve got everything a man and a woman would have. Plus, I think I’m proving myself.”

  “Olivia, you’re a sweet girl,” says another of the guys, “but this business we do isn’t easy on the stomach. It’s not for tender eyes.”

  “Tender eyes?” I repeat. I cannot believe I’m hearing this. “Where were your tender eyes when I was pumping bullets into Joey Ercalono, huh? Where were your tender eyes when I was watching blood burst out of the little holes in his skin? Where were your tender eyes when Tommy and I were cleaning up his body? You can try and say all you want that I’m too soft for this job, but you have to face the facts that every assignment I’ve been given, I’ve taken. I haven’t screwed up once. I am one of you, girl or not.” I set the money down. “If you don’t believe it yet, you will.”

  No one says anything else. Tommy and I start putting money in the safe. Everyone disperses after that. They don’t do much talking. I’m worried. What kind of boss am I going to be if my own family doesn’t even believe in me?

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