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“The Falco clan approached another business yesterday in Brooklyn. Small restaurant near one of the Scalera Logistics routes. The owner’s brother works for us, and the family has been under our protection for six years. They threatened to burn down the restaurant with his family in it if he doesn’t end his arrangement with us and join them.”
Carmine’s expression hardens. “They said that?”
Marco nods.”They are getting desperate. They’ve been asking questions around the docks and have made similar approaches to two of our trusted partners, one connected to the Gagliones and another belonging to the Di Lauros. They’re choosing businesses whose connections to us are obvious and because they’re not getting what they want, dad thinks they will launch an attack soon.”
“Has he told the other dads and aunt Carmela about this?” I ask.
My dad is the oldest of four, followed by uncle Giuseppe, who is Marco’s dad, then uncle Domenico, Carmine and Raffaele’s dad. Aunt Carmela is Enzo’s mom and the only woman among us since my mom is dead and my uncles’ wives have a habit of leaving them.
“You know how my dad is,” Marco says and sighs. “He thinks it’s time for us to be at the forefront and combating shit.”
“Father is the same,” Carmine says, Raffaele nodding beside him. “He told us he and his siblings have done their part and should pass the baton to us.”
“I say we take it,” Enzo says, already excited at the prospect of violence. “Fuck these wannabe Falco clan up and let them know why people fear the Scaleras.”
The Falcos are a small and insignificant Camorra clan with a little money to rent muscle and plenty of arrogance to believe New York will make room for them because they demand it. Until now, their behavior has been easy to dismiss as noise from men who need everyone to know they have arrived. We don’t know the families that make up the clan, but the little information we have about them is that they want all Camorras to have a unified hierarchy which they plan to lead instead of the independent and decentralized clans we currently operate as.
They are coming for us because we are the most established Camorras in the world. Our grandfather started our clan in Campania before sending our fathers and aunt to New York to establish a base here.
“They’re too small,” Enzo continues, rubbing his thumb along his lower lip. “Twenty men, maybe thirty if they’ve brought more in. They don’t have enough bodies to hold anything they take.”
“Which means they either plan to grow quickly,” Marco says, “or they’re not alone.”
Raffaele looks toward me. “Who do you think would back them?”
“That is what we have to find out, then cut them down before they can accept whatever the Falcos offer them.”
They all nod in agreement.
“We start watching every man we know they currently have. I want to know where they sleep, who they meet, which businesses suddenly receive money they didn’t earn, and who starts answering calls they used to ignore. And if they threaten another one of ours, take the man who delivers the threat, break both his hands, and send him back alive after putting a tracker in his body.”
With that settled, we refill our glasses while Carmine sets up the gaming system. Enzo leans back in his chair, now grinning. “So are we meeting your tutor?”
He gets on my nerves the most because we’re the closest in age. He’s twenty-four and I'm a year older than him. The twins are twenty-seven and Marco is twenty-nine.
I glare at Enzo. “You’re not.”
“Why not? Sweet cousin of mine.”
“Because I said no.”
He chuckles. “That poor bastard has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.”
Raffaele throws his drink back and reaches for the bottle. “You know, normally when someone develops an obsession, I’d recommend distance and perspective, but considering who I’m speaking to, I’m assuming you’re already doing the exact opposite.”
I get another text from Davide. I ignore my Raffaele and check it.
He still refuses to come. Says he has to submit his project tonight.
My cousins continue discussing my fixation on Alexander, but their voices begin to recede beneath the slow pressure building behind my ribs.
Alexander is refusing me.
He obviously hasn’t learned his lesson.
I set my glass down, stand up and grab my keys from the table.
Raffaele glances over. “You’re leaving?”
