by Hamel, B. B.
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.
“Tell me the story,” Mona said.
“Right, okay.” Dante cleared his throat. “So it’s a Saturday night, right, and we’re a little drunk. This guy named Steven finished the bottle of whiskey we were drinking, and we didn’t have anything left, so this brilliant asshole right here says we should go steal from a liquor store. You know, rob them at gunpoint, bring some cash back to Sergio to prove we’re for real, and keep a few bottles for ourselves. A nice little store.”
“Bingo bango,” I said, nodding. “Still think it was a beautiful idea.”
“There’s one problem, though,” Dante says. “Can you guess what it is?”
“You’re a bunch of drunk kids?” Mona asked.
“Exactly,” Dante said.
Mona laughed. “Tell me nobody got hurt.”
“Nobody got hurt,” Dante said. “Well, not seriously hurt.”
She looked at me and shook her head. “I have a feeling you did something stupid here.”
“Tell her the story,” I said.
“All right, anyway, we grab our guns and roll out. There’s this liquor store, a state store in a shitty neighborhood on the east side of our territory back then, it was just this crappy little storefront with busted-out windows and bars on the doors, you know what I mean? So we roll up, swaggering like we’re the shit, and kick the door open.
“Vince goes in first, gun out, starts yelling. I’m in behind him, with Steven bringing up the rear. There’s this old fat guy in the corner, just some guy, you know? And he’s like, what the hell are you doing, you idiots, put those away. So Vince goes and waves the gun in his face, they start yelling at each other, arguing about whether it’s right to rob a liquor store or not.
“So picture the scene. The three of us are standing in the middle of the store, looking around with our guns out, and Vince’s yelling at this random-ass customer about robbing the store. The fat guy keeps going, it’s stealing, it’s stealing, this is a neighbo
rhood store, and Vince’s trying to make the point that it’s a state-owned store so who the fuck cares, and it’s so insane. He’s literally in an argument instead of robbing the place.
“Just as the argument gets to a head and Vince gets really pissed off, the guy behind the counter yells, get the fuck down! We all turn around, and he’s got this huge fucking shotgun pointed right at us.”
Mona gasped, hands to her mouth, her eyes wide. “No way.”
“Yep,” I said. “Seriously, biggest gun I’ve ever seen. I don’t know where the guy got it from. I think it was for killing elephants or something.”
“What happened next?” she asked.
“Well, the owner whipped it around, you know what I mean, aiming at the three of us,” Dante said. “And he’s like, get out, get out, and Vince’s yelling back at him to drop the gun, and the dude freaks out and shoots the gun. Goes off like a fucking explosion and like ten bottles of whiskey explode on impact. Nobody gets hit, but shards of glass smash against our friend here.”
“Cut me deep,” he said. “And the whiskey burned like hell.”
“So Steven’s, like, run!” Dante said. “He books it, and I’m following, but I look back and see Vince here still in the store. He stares at the owner, the owner stares back, and Vince picks up a bottle of whiskey that didn’t get blown to pieces. He picks it up real slow and just holds it, and there’s blood running down his arm from the glass shards, and he just stares at the owner. They look at each other for like ten seconds, then Vince turns and walks out of the store. It was, without a doubt, the most insane thing I’ve ever seen.”
Dante finished his story and leaned back with a huge grin on his face. I laughed and shook my head, and of course I remembered it a little differently.
Most of that was true, except for the last part. When the clerk shot that stupid gun, it flew out of his hands, which was why he missed. That’s when I grabbed the bottle and we got out of there.
But I always liked Dante’s version better, so I let him tell it.
“That’s wild,” she said, laughing and shaking her head.
“We drank that fucking bottle that night, too,” I said. “Every single drop.”
“You guys were idiots,” she said. “You know that, right?”
“Oh, yeah,” Dante said. “We’re well aware.”
“But we had fun,” I said, stretching my legs. I picked up my espresso and took a long sip.
Dante let out a breath and nodded. “We really did. Not like these days, now we’re a bunch of old fucking men.”
“Old men that work a lot harder than we used to.” I put my espresso down.
“Very true,” Dante said. He leaned back and let out a breath. “You know I’ve met with ten community people today?”
“That’s a lot,” I said. “How do you even do it?”
He shook his head. “We do a lot of shit, you know, but I believe in taking care of these people.”
“Admirable,” Mona said.
“We all do,” Dante said. “Even this guy. Especially this guy. I got the idea of meeting with local people from him.”
She looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “Is that true?”
“I always thought it was smart to know what the local people thought,” I said. “I could do them favors, you know, help them out. And when things went wrong, maybe they wouldn’t rat on me, or maybe they’d even help me. I do them favors, they do me favors, that sort of thing.”
She snorted. “Of course. Self-motivated.”
“It’s not like that,” Dante said. “He helped people even when there was nothing in it for him. Don’t let him make you think otherwise.”
Mona gave me a shrewd look and just shrugged.
I turned away from her and sipped my espresso again. “All right,” I said. “This has been fun, but I gotta ask you something, Dante.”
He held out his hands, palms up. “Ask away,” he said.
“Have you heard any rumors about the Jalisco lately?”
Dante frowned and cocked his head. He looked at Mona then back to me.
“Is this something we should talk about?” he asked.
“It’s okay,” I said. “She’s aware of what’s happening.”
Dante let out a breath. “Okay then,” he said. “You’re going to give your father an early heart attack, you know that?”
“I know,” I said with a smile. “So what have you heard?”
“Just whispers,” Dante said. “Rumors, that’s all. I don’t think any of it’s true.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“Apparently they’re gearing up,” Dante said. “Buying weapons from that Irish gang, you know, the Celtic Club?”
“I thought Steven wiped them out.”
“He did, mostly,” Dante said. “But some of the former members still had their guns. I heard they sold what was left to the Jalisco. I didn’t think anything of it, you know, that shit happens, and it’s probably for the best that Steven didn’t have to deal with a bunch of armed former enemies. But now looking back on it…” He trailed off and shook his head.
“How long ago was that?” I asked.
“Couple weeks,” he said.
I sucked in a breath and frowned. “We started negotiating with the Russians three weeks ago,” I said.
“I know,” he said, shaking his head. “So if the Jalisco started gearing up that fast, it means someone leaked almost right away.”
“Shit,” I said.
“Like I said, this is just rumor,” Dante said. “It’s not from a reliable source.”
“But the Celts did sell their guns, right?”
Dante just shrugged. “Who knows. You’d have to ask Steven about that. He runs their former territory and married into their family.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I heard about that.”
“I think he has ears in the Jalisco, too,” Dante said. “Or at least someone he can talk to.”
“So I should talk to Steven.”
“That’s what I think.” Dante grinned and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry, I’m pretty useless.”
“Nah,” I said. “I appreciate the help.”
“And I appreciate the story,” Mona said.
“Any time you want to hear more, come on down here,” Dante said. “There were a lot of guys in that old crew, and I’ve got a lot of old stories.”
“Don’t listen to him,” I said. “He’s full of shit. And anyway, the girl’s all mine, so be careful.”
Mona shot me a look. “I’m not all anyone’s.”
“So you think,” I said and pushed my chair back. “Let’s get going.”
She glared at me but stood and looked back down to Dante. He was grinning, trying not to laugh.
“It was nice meeting you,” she said.
“You too,” he said. “You be careful with this guy, he’s dangerous.”
“She knows,” I said, and walked to the door.
Mona followed as I stepped out onto the sidewalk. It was bright outside, and it took half a second for my eyes to adjust as Mona moved up next to me.
“I’m all yours?” she asked.
I nodded. “Don’t want anyone to get any ideas.”
“You know you don’t own me. If I want to talk to someone else…” She trailed off.
“You ask first,” I said. “And if you don’t, you might end up stumbling in over your head.”
“Oh, so now you’re protecting me?”
“Exactly,” I said. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but trust me. The guys we’re dealing with are dangerous.”
“Dante seemed nice.”
“Dante is a killer,” I said. “You know that cute, fun story he told? Two weeks after that, we hit up a rival gang’s bar and killed four men. It’s not all fun and games, my little journalist.” I walked to the car and she stayed standing near the door. I looked back at her and tilted my head.
“Is that true?” she asked.
“It’s true,” I said. “An
d if you write that in your fucking article, I’ll make sure that article never sees the light of day. Now come on, we have to go meet with Steven.”
I climbed into the car and waited a minute. Mona got in the passenger side and didn’t look at me as I started the engine and pulled out.
I felt bad telling her that, but she needed to hear it. She was starting to act like this whole thing was some kind of fun joke, like we were just a bunch of boys playing at being gangsters. For a second, she forgot what she was dealing with.
But I can’t let her forget.
There are real stakes, especially right now.
And she’s buried in it all.
12
Mona
I stared out the window and kept thinking about what he just said.
They killed men.
He just admitted to murder, admitted it right to my face. My heart was hammering in my chest and I felt a little dizzy.
I knew these men were dangerous. I knew they were violent and prone to outbursts. But I wouldn’t let myself think about how far those outbursts could go. I didn’t want to imagine just what they were capable of, just how many bodies they left strewn about behind them.
Vince ran his own crew in New York and he was the son of the mafia boss. That meant he probably had to work twice as hard to earn respect, and fight twice as hard to keep his enemies away. He had a target on his back at all times and even the guys in his own family probably kept him at arm’s length.
These were killers. They could tell fun stories, but Vince was a killer.
I looked up and stared at his face. He watched the road, his expression closed and unreadable. I wanted to reach out and touch him, had the strangest urge to run my fingers down his cheek.
Instead, I stared out the window and tried to keep it together.
Vince didn’t speak as we rolled through the city and into a nice residential neighborhood. We passed a park on the left, kids playing on the swing set, adults sitting on the benches. People walked down the sidewalk, young people, old people, walking their dogs, sitting on their stoops and laughing. I watched people and tried to picture them, tried to picture their lives, but just kept thinking about the dead bodies left in Vince’s wake.