by Taylor Hill
He looked at the silver-haired Assistant Director sitting at the head of the table, staring back at him with open and un-self-conscious frankness. What was it about these FBI guys and mixing metaphors? Or was it just a family thing? Assistant Director Fredrick “Freddy” Smith was Lana Smith’s uncle—a fact which had surely been an influential factor in her meteoric rise in rank at the agency—and just like her he had a jarring tendency to spew all kinds of ornamental nonsense when speaking. Tactfully, Romeo decided not to mention it.
“Well don’t you have anything to say, son?” Freddy asked, “now’s your chance to talk freely amongst your peers before you go back out there to the field.”
Talk freely? That was rich. These guys—this conference room full of straight-edge, manicured FBI agents, Lana included—were no more his peers than Sal and those guys on the street level were. And consequently, he felt no more himself or at ease in their company. In fact lately there was only one person in the whole world he felt like he could be anything like himself around…
“Don’s not much of a talker,” Lana spoke up from her place a couple of seats down and across from the young undercover cop, “naturally, it makes my job a lot harder when I have to debrief him.”
“Is that so?” Freddy Smith nodded to himself, brushing his thumb thoughtfully along the soft fibers of his grey mustache, “well there’s nothing wrong with that. In fact it’s a virtue for a young man in this day and age.”
“Sure,” Lana shrugged, shooting Romeo a mischievous glance, “but maybe somebody ought to tell him that Omerta is their rule, not ours…”
They all had a chuckle at that and Romeo, irritated, glared past them out the window. He couldn’t figure out why they’d even summoned him here today—it was bad enough that he had to meet Lana once a week, let alone come downtown to drink coffee with the rest of these clowns.
“Can we get this over and done with chief?” he said, ignoring Lana, and looking straight to AD Smith at the head of the table.
“Man of few words and straight to the point,” Freddy said, “I like it—makes a nice change.”
That’s what he said, but somehow Romeo (and yes, he was even thinking of himself by that name now) figured by looking at him that the opposite was probably true. Freddy Smith could likely blow wind with the rest of them all day and all night and the fact that Romeo now insisted that he get to the point probably made the guy a little uneasy.
“Ok son,” Freddy said, “you want to talk business? Let’s talk business. First up your little friend Charlie ‘Chuckles’ Bonanno has informed his handlers up there in New York that Sal’s people contacted him looking for a reference on you. He told them you were a stand-up guy and he couldn’t vouch for you enough.”
“Which means,” Romeo said, with a sardonic smile, “that if they find out he’s turned informant in Little Italy then I’m as dead down here as he is up there…”
“Always the optimist, right Don?” Lana teased and Freddy Smith ruffled his papers, clearing his throat before continuing.
“Well be that as it may, without Bonanno’s words of praise there’s no way we could have gotten you in as fast as we did. You’ll be amused to learn that one of our other undercovers tells us that Sal’s already brought you up with his superiors. He’s gone on record recommending you as made guy material.”
Romeo leaned forward, an intense frown darkening his brow. “Others?” he said, “you have others?”
“Well duh,” Lana said, “you don’t think we’d have this whole thing resting on a loose cannon like you, do you?”
Romeo ignored her, glaring intently at the Assistant Director at the head of the table.
“Relax,” Freddy warned, “we have other undercovers, of course, but none of them know you’re an agent. Besides, there’s nobody stationed anywhere near as deep as you, so you can rest easy.”
Romeo sat back in his chair but the frown remained. So there were other undercovers? He didn’t like the sound of that. It was one more unknown variable for him to worry about—one more unwelcome surprise that could fuck everything up for him in a cold, dead second.
Everybody at the table was watching him closely, any pretense of common-ground or .camaraderie now having disappeared completely. They were looking at him now like he was no different from those unhinged and dangerous street criminals they’d called him in from New York to investigate in the first place.
“Listen,” Freddy said, “none of the other agents even work for them like you do—at least not in Sal’s crew anyway—that would only complicate things. Hell son, you’ll probably never even meet any of them so don’t let it bother you.”
“Is there anything else?” Romeo asked.
“Yes. We want to know about the Guilianno kids, tell us everything you can about them.”
Romeo stared at Assistant Director Smith. Was he serious? Christ, hadn’t he already told Lana that Sandy and Lou were small fry in all of this? That Sandy was completely clean and Lou was almost the same? But still, just because of their tainted name these FBI assholes felt certain that there must be something going on with them. It made him sick.
“Like I told Lana,” Romeo said, speaking as calmly and deliberately as he could, “there’s nothing to tell. Lou’s as low-level as they come and the girl—well she’s not involved at all. A straight-A student and a law-abiding citizen.”
“Be that as it may Don,” Freddy nodded, “Lana has informed us that your relationship to the girl has grown murky. Yes, for all you know she might be a law-abiding citizen, but there’s a good chance that she could still prove to be an intrinsic part of this case. What if we want to use her as an informant later on down the line?”
Romeo felt his face go red with anger. Just what the hell was this? He was out there every night risking his life with psychopaths and murderers and now these office-jockeys were subjecting him to some kind of coffee-break inquisition? He noticed Lana smirking at him with a deliciously self-satisfied smile and his mood darkened even deeper.
“Just tell me you’re not sleeping with her, are you?” Freddy asked and at that Romeo stood to his feet.
“I’ve had enough of this bullshit,” he muttered and then he turned and walked out of the conference room.
“Romeo!” Lana called, catching up just as the elevator doors were closing, and he winced as she pushed her way through. It was funny, now that the others were out of earshot she’d reverted back to calling him by his alias again, a complete reversal from her earlier professional façade. Sometimes she was such a bitch it drove him wild.
“Going down?” she smiled and tapped the ground-floor button again. The doors closed with a hum.
After a moment’s silence she looked at him, standing with his eyes dead ahead beside her.
“They sent me after you,” she said, “they were concerned about you. So am I.”
“Give me a break Lana,” Romeo muttered.
“I mean it,” she said, “I am concerned. I know what you’re going through out there—you might think I’m just a bureaucrat and maybe you’re right, but I used to be a field agent. I know the danger. Sure maybe not as bad as what you’ve got but I had trouble, I’ve had shoot-outs, bomb scares, you name it.”
Romeo said nothing. Another unpleasant side-effect of having a meeting so high up in the building was the amount of time it took for the elevator to touch ground on the way back down again.
Lana looked at him, her blue eyes wide and searching as she studied his face. “But Romeo—Don—you have to get real. You think I’m saying this just to annoy you? Whatever you do you cannot get involved with that Guilianno girl.”
“Oh fuck you Lana,” Romeo said, “you hear me? I know what I can and can’t do and I’m keeping my distance.”
“What about that student bar last night? You met her there and then walked her back to her door? What kind of distance is that?”
“It was a favor for her brother Lana, that’s all.�
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“That’s exactly what I mean! Favors? It’s not your job to do favors for these people.”
Romeo swung to face her, the vein on his sleek temple pumping with anger. “Of course it is,” he said, “I’m supposed to be one of them now, aren’t I? And what—you were having me watched last night? What the hell are you doing Lana, you could break my cover with that shit!”
Lana looked up at him, her chest heaving with passion. “I was worried about you, ok you asshole? Worried that you were losing it, getting involved with that girl…”
Romeo stared back down at her and, as the elevator pinged for the ground floor, she stepped forward against his body and pressed her lips up onto his.
The elevator door wooshed open just as Lana stepped back from Romeo, her breathing shallow and fast with excitement. Outside, the main lobby was already busy with agents and office workers moving to and fro across the gleaming marble floor, although none of them noticed the man and woman staring at each other in the single open elevator with expressions of such glaring intensity.
“Lana… what the fuck?”
“Oh come on Don,” she said, her eyes turned downwards and a bitter frown on her lips, “you know how I feel about you.”
“This… this is too much,” Romeo said. He backed out into the lobby. “Keep your damn tail off my back when I’m out there in the field Lana. From now on I do things my way. Jesus, I could report you for that shit…”
“Go ahead then,” she said, reaching out to press the elevator button again. “See if I care.”
The doors closed and Romeo was alone in the crowded lobby, feeling like a man a million miles from home.
“Oh! Here he is: Mad Mancini—New York’s favorite son!”
Eyeball and Lou chuckled at Ferret’s greeting to Romeo as he approached them across the pool-hall and nodded in acknowledgement.
“Whose round is it?” he asked as he joined them.
“Little early, ain’t it?” Eyeball said.
“It’s a bar, ain’t it?” Romeo shrugged in reply.
“True,” Eyeball said, “Ferret, get the drinks.”
Ferret swung on them from his place by the pool-table, a look of immediate outrage on his rat-like face. “Oh!” he said, “we’re made guys Eyeball, these two jokers should be serving us.”
“Get the drinks Ferret,” Eyeball repeated and his partner, instantly defeated, sauntered over to the bar.
“Mine’s a double Jim Beam,” Romeo called after him and then leaned into Lou. “So how’s things with you and Lisa?” he asked.
“She said she’ll meet me for lunch later,” Lou said, “she says we’re on probation, whatever that means, but she’s speaking to me so it’s a start. I’m just glad I’ll get to spend some of the day with her at least, even if it is only on probation. If I missed it I think she’d never forgive me.”
Romeo laughed. “Shit,” he said, “probation? I’ve been on probation before, it’s no big deal. You ever been on probation Eyeball?”
“Hell,” Eyeball said, “I’m on probation right now paisan…”
“Seriously though,” Lou said, “whatever you said to Sandy Romeo, it really did the trick. I owe you one. I think I’m going to try to do something really special for Lisa today, properly make it up to her. Eyeball says he can hook me up at a fancy restaurant tonight, but if it wasn’t for you I’d be spending it alone, a romantic night for one—takeout pizza and internet porn.”
“Fuggedabout it,” Romeo shrugged, “you want to know the truth? Sandy would barely talk to me. Lisa must have come to the decision all on her own. She probably wants to spend Valentine’s together as much as you do.”
Ferret returned with the drinks and Romeo tipped his back immediately, draining it all in one swift gulp. He stepped up to the pool table and picked up a cue.
“Ok,” he said, “which one of you gangster assholes wants to face me? I’ll take you all down.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon drinking and shooting pool. At one o’clock Lou left to go meet Lisa, to much drunken jeering and encouragement from the friends he was leaving behind him, and after another few hours Eyeball’s beeper signaled a message from Sal. He went out to find a pay phone and then returned to inform the guys that he and Ferret were urgently required elsewhere—a meeting for made guys only—and so Romeo was left alone again. He said goodbye to the others and then went in to the bar area, taking up a stool and ordering a drink. He checked his phone and saw that he’d received a message from Lana at some point over the past few hours. Ignoring it, he scrolled down and saw a message from Sandy. Raising his eyebrows he clicked to open it.
“ROMEO,” it read, “TRY AS I MIGHT I CANNOT STOP THINKING ABOUT YOU. PLEASE COME OVER ASAP. I’M AT MY PLACE XX.”
He stared at the message for a good five minutes before signaling to the barkeeper. “Get me a pitcher of water and ice,” he said, “and a cup of coffee.”
Thirty minutes later, still groggy from the bourbon and wondering what the hell he was doing, Romeo stepped up to the door to Sandy and Lisa’s apartment. He reached out to press the bell and then waited. A moment later, she appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide and excited as she looked up at him, her shoulders heaving with breathlessness.
“Romeo!” she said, “well I guess you better come in.”
The next day I had classes off for the entire afternoon, so early that morning I stopped by the hospital to see how Gino was doing and to go over the arrangements for the special night we had planned at the café that evening. Since it was Valentine’s Day (and by the way, I really could have cared less) we’d organized for a professional caterer to come in so we could put on a romantic dinner for the locals and continue what was a long standing yearly tradition in the area. Despite Gino’s protestations, I had assured him that I would be happy to come in and waitress, provided he could bring in the chef (after all, the potential profits were too big to miss out on, especially now that we needed it so much), and because I had no plans anyway he had eventually acquiesced.
Now, he was still bed-bound but according to his doctors he was well on his way towards a speedy recovery, taking to the physio work with the vigor and determination of a man half his age, and when I arrived into his room he erupted with delighted laughter to see me. I told him how we were doing at college (good) and how the café was surviving now that it was mostly only open on weekends (also good, all things considered) and I promised to thank Lou and Romeo again for giving him the loan to help pay for his hospital bills. This time he didn’t press me or tease me any about Romeo, which was a good thing because I actually felt a little bit guilty about the fact that even though I was there to see Gino, my thoughts during the visit kept straying over and over again to Romeo, wondering what he might be getting up to on that bright and sunny Valentine’s morning.
When it was time to leave again, Gino gave me a single white rose to pass on to my mother (I could only guess where he’d gotten it from, one of the nurses maybe) and I smiled and told him that she would be delighted with it. Mom’s dementia was such that she rarely recognized me or Lou these days when we came to visit her—still imagining her children to be at diaper-wearing age—but her memory of the distant past was still largely unscathed, which meant that she often asked how Gino was and if he would be coming to visit soon, almost as much as she asked about the whereabouts of her husband, a question neither me nor Lou ever had the heart to properly address.
The rose in hand, and promising to see him in another day or two, I left Gino’s room and made my way back down the floors of the busy hospital to get a bus to take me back to CCU. At the bus stop the white rose held thoughtfully in my grip (not to mention the wistful expression I probably had thinking about Romeo) invited more than a few curious glances from strangers, but I was too distracted to notice. I was playing the events of the night before over in my head, scrutinizing every fleeting glance and ambiguous smile on his face for clues to the natur
e of his true intentions. I was still no less in the dark about who he really was or what he wanted from me (if anything) but after our meeting I felt sure now that I had connected with him on a deeper level than most did, that I knew him in a way that was almost a privilege, as I sensed that few others had ever been allowed to get that close to him.
I felt certain now that there was kindness to him as well as a danger, that somehow his heart was in the right place even if the rest of him was actively seeking out criminal behavior. But that alone was not enough to redeem him and redeeming him certainly wasn’t my job either. It was bad enough with Lou but I knew that if I let myself get emotionally involved with Romeo then I would be right back to what I’d been running from my entire adult life—back in that world that I would have given anything to escape from.
And of course, I was also unsure if persuading Lisa to give Lou another chance had really been the right thing to do after all. Yes, she had been miserable and I believed Romeo when he said that Lou was equally distraught, but was it not somewhat hypocritical of me to encourage Lisa to forgive Lou while I myself refused to overlook Romeo’s criminal activity? Was I not simply postponing what would inevitably amount to a bigger heartbreak for her in the long run? Perhaps, but then again if I’d thought that Lisa actually really had been finished with Lou then I might have done differently. But no, she was crazy about him and there was nothing I or anyone else could do to change that. Romeo had been right, it was obvious that she would take him back sooner or later, so we might as well just let them get on with it and help them escape from their misery at being apart.
So that morning when I got back to the apartment and Lisa, having now had a few days’ space to think things over, asked me for my honest advice I told her to think about what she really wanted; life with Lou or life without Lou. Those were the only two options—it was Lou, complete with criminal tendencies, or no Lou at all.