by Ws Greer
“If you want me to trust you, then you have to do things that make sense.”
“Just because you lack the ability to understand it doesn’t mean it doesn’t make sense. I know what I’m doing, and I promise you it won’t be long before all of this is over and we won’t have to deal with him anymore.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it. The ball’s rolling, and I’m not stopping now.”
Dominic
I don’t like this feeling—this mystery that lingers overhead like a dark shadow, casting confusion on my life. I don’t like the randomness, I don’t like the spontaneity, I don’t like not knowing what’s going on, and I don’t like the feeling of deception that rests in my gut like an ulcer, eating away at my insides. I don’t like feeling like there’s something going on behind my back, and as I open the doors to the conference room with Tommy following closely behind me, my anger explodes into a giant fireball when I see Jimmy standing in the middle of the room wearing a gray sweater and black sweatpants.
“You motherfucker,” I bark, as I grab Jimmy by his shirt and yank his body towards me, our faces only inches apart. “You better tell me what the fuck is going on right now!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dominic,” he replies with fear in his eyes.
“You’re full of shit,” I snap. “You told me you had your crew look everywhere for that fucking truck and you couldn’t find it. Now, all of a sudden, it just shows up ten blocks from your carwash. Either you didn’t look anywhere, or you knew where it was all along. You better fucking explain this shit, Jimmy, because I’m starting to think I can’t trust you, and that ain’t good for your health.”
Frankie and Tommy stand behind me, watching in amazement as I push Jimmy and he falls to the floor.
“I don’t know how the truck got there, Dominic, I swear,” Jimmy says, looking up at me. I can see the worry in his eyes, so either it’s real, or he’s a great actor. Only one way to tell.
I reach inside my coat and pull the nine millimeter from its harness. Frankie and Tommy looked shocked as I kneel down and place the tip of the barrel under Jimmy’s chin.
“I don’t fucking believe you,” I say. “And you know what else? The Commission won’t believe you either. So, I may as well pull the trigger because you’re a fucking dead man anyway.”
“Oh shit! Dominic, wait,” I hear Frankie chime in. “We gotta find out if he actually took it first.”
I ignore Frankie’s plea and chamber a round.
“Where was the fucking truck?” I ask, as I dig the barrel into Jimmy’s skin and he winces in pain.
“I swear to god I don’t know, Dominic. I fucking swear. It wasn’t just my crew who looked for the truck when it went missing. It was all of us. The whole family looked for that truck and it was nowhere to be found. So, I’m just as confused as the rest of you, but I’m telling you I didn’t take it. I swear on my mother’s life I didn’t take it.”
“Dominic, I’m begging you not to do this,” I hear Frankie speak up. “You named me your consigliere for a reason, and now I’m doing my job by reminding you that you gotta have proof about something like this. We gotta get to the bottom of it before you go down this road.” I snap my head in Frankie’s direction, and he immediately knows why. “I’m not trying to question your authority, Dominic, I swear. I’m just saying, you can clip him if you want, but if the Commission finds out, it’s gonna be a problem.”
I hear Frankie’s words, and I know he’s right. I can’t justifiably kill Jimmy without knowing for sure that he took the truck.
See, when it comes to Our Thing, people always think mob guys can go around killing each other all willy-nilly, like it’s a motorcycle club or some lame shit like that. In La Cosa Nostra, you can’t kill a made guy without Commission approval, even if you’re a boss. A made guy is untouchable until the Commission says otherwise. So, once again I have to hold back. Not because I’m weak, but because this is La Cosa Nostra.
“The only reason you’re alive right now, is because I have all these fucking rules to follow,” I snip, nearly foaming at the mouth. “But you can bet your ass I’m gonna find out what the fuck is going on, and you’re gonna be the first motherfucker I visit when I do.”
Jimmy doesn’t respond, he just stares at me with a terrified look on his face. I know he’s doing something sneaky, but I can’t prove it. I will, though. Right now, however, I have to address the task at hand—Victor’s truck and the money we owe him.
I stand up and holster my gun as Jimmy gets to his feet. He has a look of fear and disappointment on his face, but I don’t give a fuck. I’m feeling fed up and am in no mood to give a fuck about anybody’s feelings.
“Alright, this is what we’re gonna do,” I say, addressing all three of the made men in front of me. “Jimmy, get the guys in your crew to gather the truck and money, and take that shit to Victor tonight. We already owe an extra five hundred-grand, and I’m not waiting another minute. Get that fucking truck out of my city, now. The extra half-a-mil comes from your end, got it?”
“I got it,” Jimmy replies, looking down at the floor.
“I want that fucking truck gone! We can call Giovanni and let him know the truck is coming, and if he doesn’t answer, leave them a message. I don’t give a fuck what we have to do, we’re leaving that truck with them. If something happens to it once it’s in Chicago, it’s their fucking problem. This is not up for fucking debate.
“Jimmy, make sure your best guys take the truck, and they better not fuck it up. I don’t care how late it is, you call me when it’s done. Once the truck is out of our hands, then we’ll get together and start looking into who the fuck took the truck in the first place, and I will find out who it was. I don’t care if I have to start cutting guy’s fingers off myself until I find out the truth. That’s it. Now go.” The three of them start to leave, but I feel the urge to address Jimmy again. “And you’re lucky this happened. If the truck hadn’t magically reappeared, you were gonna die tonight. You might wanna think about that.”
The elevator ride up to the penthouse seems just as long as this day has been. I stand in the corner of the metal box as it approaches my home, and I feel a weight on top of me.
It’s been a rough couple of days, definitely the stressful of my tenure as boss of the Giordano family, and I feel like I may have taken the good days for granted. I may have let them go by without fully appreciating them, without cherishing them enough, because what I feel now makes me yearn for the good days. There was a part of me that hoped we could transcend the older generations of gangsters. I was hoping we could avoid the backstabbing and power grabbing that has always plagued Our Thing, but the past couple of days have made me second-guess all of it. I should’ve known better. This is La Cosa Nostra. You can’t trust anybody.
The doors open and I find Alannah sitting in the living room on the couch reading a book—a novel called The Secrets That We Keep, by Isabel Lucero, and I can’t help but laugh at the irony of the title as I sit down next to her.
She looks beautiful as always, wearing a long t-shirt that goes all the way down to her knees, and some sexy little shorts that are basically underwear. Her brown hair is tied in a ponytail and her supple lips call out to me, so I don’t resist the urge to distract her from her book with a soft kiss.
“Welcome home,” she says after the kiss. “I haven’t heard from you in a while. How’d it go with Tommy?”
I let out a frustrated sigh as I lean back on the couch. “The conversation with Tommy went as expected, but before I could drive away, I got a call from Frankie, informing me that Jimmy’s crew found the truck with all of the money still inside. That’s why I’m so late coming home. I had to go back to the Lumiere and talk to them about it.”
Sensing my predicament, Alannah puts the book down on the wood coffee table and turns to face me with one leg up on the couch.
“Wait,” she begins, f
rowning. “Jimmy’s crew found the truck?”
“Yeah.”
“But Jimmy’s crew lost the truck.”
“Yeah.”
“And all the money was still inside?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And this happens on the night you’re giving Tommy the contract to kill Jimmy?”
“That’s right,” I whisper behind another exhausted exhale. “Nothing suspicious about that at all, right?”
Alannah doesn’t answer. She takes a second to think about all the information before speaking again.
“Wow, quite the story,” she says, looking me in the eye so I can see the shock in hers.
“Yeah, I’ll say.”
“So, what now?”
“I have them taking the truck back tonight, so that’s step one. Once that’s done, I’ll put all my effort into finding out who took it to begin with, and when I find out, it’s over for them, whether they’re made or not. I’m tired of playing games. I don’t even give a fuck if the Commission approves it. I won’t let shit like this slide.”
“Who do you think took it?” she asks, her eyes boring into mine.
“I think it was Jimmy,” I admit. “I just don’t know why he’d take it and then give it back.”
“Maybe he thought he could get away with it, then realized he’d end up dead if he didn’t back track. If I had to guess, I’d say he took it on impulse, then his brain kicked in and realized how dumb and dangerous it was, so he decided to give it back.”
“He’d have to be a complete idiot to think he could do that and get away with it. I’d like to think he knows me better than that.”
“I don’t know,” Alannah replies. “But you look stressed out, babe.”
“Nah, I ain’t stressed out, I just wanna show these motherfuckers you can’t get away with shit like this. I don’t know what the Commission is gonna wanna do after this, but I wanna make an example out of him.”
“Come here,” Alannah says as she places her hand on the back of my neck and pulls me forward, forcing me to lay on my back with my head in her lap. She looks down on me, rubbing the top of my head, staring into my eyes, and I feel like the tension in my body is instantly loosening. I let out a deep exhale and close my eyes, letting her touch relax my every muscle.
“Maybe there’s something else I need to be thinking about,” I say, as Alannah rubs her hand over my eyes, forcing me to close them and relax like I’m in a shrink’s office. “You trying to put me to sleep?” I ask, behind a chuckle.
“No, I just want you to relax, baby, that’s all. You want to talk, and I want to listen to you, that’s all.”
She rubs my face with the palms of her hands as I think out loud, letting her be my therapist—my priest in the confessional.
“I don’t know, but maybe this whole thing is a sign—a sign that says I need to start thinking about who I can and can’t trust. It’s been such a quiet year since I became the boss, but if history has proven anything, it’s that bosses are almost always being undermined by those closest to them. I need to think about who’s trustworthy. I don’t have any suspicion about Frankie or Tommy, but the rest of them, I don’t know. These guys were loyal to Leo, but are they loyal to me?”
I let Alannah’s hands caress my head as she sits in silence, doing nothing more than letting me talk. She knows that eventually I’ll figure it all out. I always do.
This little situation is tricky, though. Who the fuck steals an ice truck, finds over a million dollars in it, then just abandons it with the money still inside? No bum mulignan would ever do that. So it must be a wise guy, then. But why would a wise guy do it? I think back to when I was just a youngster trying to make a name for myself in this life, and I know for a fact I never would’ve left a truck with over a million dollars sitting in it. No fucking chance. So, I’m left with a big, fat question mark swirling around in my head.
“There isn’t a wise guy in the world who’d leave a truck with that much money in it,” I continue thinking aloud. “I’m getting a fucking headache thinking about this shit.”
“Maybe you should sleep on it. I’m sure it’ll come to you in the morning,” Alannah says, breaking her silence.
“Nah, I’m sorry, baby,” I reply, finally opening my eyes. “I think I may need a minute alone, actually. It’s been a long, fucked up day, and I need some time to think things through on my own.”
“I understand,” she answers as I sit up. “Well, I’m gonna go ahead and go lay down then. Not really feeling too well tonight.”
“Are you okay?”
“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” she says as she leans forward and kisses me on the cheek. “Just a little lightheaded, nothing to worry about. I’ll meet you in the room. If I’m asleep when you get in there, wake me up, okay? I want to enjoy laying with you.”
“Okay,” I say, smiling at the love of my life. “I love you.”
“I love you,” she replies, as she walks around the couch and makes her way down the hallway towards the bedroom.
I have the room to myself and the rest of the night to think about this shit. Everything happened really fast and I need some time to let my brain catch up. So, I grab a short glass from the kitchen and fill it to the rim with Villa Zarri Italian Brandy, then I make my way back to the couch and light up a Romeo Y Julieta cigar. I spend the rest of my night drinking and smoking as the question marks swirl around my head like the smoke escaping my mouth. No answers come to me, however. In fact, the more I drink, the more questions I have, and the further away from the answers I feel.
I call it a night around three in the morning, finally deciding to stumble into the shower to get the stench of alcohol and frustration off of me before I lay down next to Alannah. I do as she requested and wake her up as I pull the sheets over me, and she responds by throwing an arm around me, pulling me close.
I cling to her as I close my eyes and hope tomorrow provides me with a raft made of answers. If not, then maybe I’ll just have to start drowning the people next to me to keep myself afloat.
Dominic
“Ah! Alannah what the fuck?” I hear myself screaming as I jolt awake. My face is dripping with water and my pillow is soaked.
“I’m sorry, I had to wake you up,” Alannah exclaims, wearing a t-shirt and short shorts. Even through the dripping water sloshing over my eyes, the woman looks mouthwatering.
“You had to wake me up by splashing water on my fucking face?”
“Yes,” she replies. “Your phone was going off, and I tried to wake you, but you wouldn’t wake up so I answered it. It’s Frankie, he’s here and he’s on his way up to the penthouse.”
“What? Right now?”
“Yeah. He said it was really urgent, and he absolutely has to talk to you, so I needed to wake you.”
I wipe my face and think about what the hell Frankie might want at six o’clock in the morning. Nobody comes to River City to see me. I keep my business separate from where I lay my head, so I think of this as an intrusion, and if Frankie doesn’t have a damn good reason for this, we’re going to have a fucking problem.
I rush to the bathroom and throw on a wife beater, and a pair of dark gray sweatpants, while Alannah throws on the sexiest red shorts known to man and a Cardinals t-shirt. By the time I finish grabbing her ass with a playful smile on my face, the elevator door chimes and Frankie steps into the penthouse, wearing a black and white track suit, like he’s intentionally paying homage to the gangsters of old.
I notice his face when he walks in—tight lips with a furrow in his brow. He’s frustrated or worried about something, and the first thing I think of is Jimmy and the truck. What the hell has happened?
“This better be something really fucking important, Frankie,” I say as I lean in and wrap my arms around my consigliere in a hug to show our mutual respect.
“It is. I wouldn’t have shown up like this if it wasn’t,” Frankie replies. He runs a hand through his hair before motioning towards the living room. �
�There’s something you need to know, Dominic. We should go sit down.”
I eyeball him for a minute, evaluating his strange demeanor. He looks upset in a way I haven’t seen in him before, and I know whatever he’s about to tell me isn’t something small, so I nod to Alannah, and she nods back to me before turning on her heel and walking back into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
I lead Frankie into the living room and take a seat on one couch while Frankie sits on the other. Once he’s seated, Frankie starts fiddling with his zipper on his jacket like he’s too nervous to sit still. I scrunch my forehead wondering what the hell has gotten into him.
“The fuck’s the matter with you?” I ask, frowning. “You’re sitting there looking all nervous, playing with your jacket and shit. You’re making me anxious.”
Frankie looks down at his hand like he’s noticing it moving for the first time, and he stops himself by letting go of the zipper and placing his hand on the couch before finally looking up at me.
“Have you ever thought about this thing with Victor? Like, what his intentions are?” Frankie asks, his eyes boring into me now.
“What his intentions are? You mean besides being an old annoying cocksucker and diming me out to the Commission? Nah, I guess not. He’s a fucking Mustache Pete who needs to die already, preferably not by natural causes.” I reply. “But as far as his intentions are concerned, I ain’t thinking about that. Now that Jimmy found the truck, I just want the debt settled and the bullshit in my rearview mirror. But why do you ask?”
“Because I’m starting to think Victor Fronzo intended to kill one of our guys from the very beginning,” Frankie says, sending me reeling.
“The fuck you talking about, Frankie?”
“Just hear me out a minute, Dominic. As soon as that truck got taken, I think Victor’s been out to flex his muscle on you. He’s an old head and he ain’t gonna stand for a twenty-something boss making him look weak. I think we should’ve never trusted him or that cocksucker Giovanni.”