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Giovanni
PLAYLIST: ? REVENGE - JOYNER LUCAS ?
Tommy Peronne isthe name of the motherfucker who tried to ambush me at Saul Rosenbaum’s rooftop party. My men hauled him out and stuffed him into the trunk of one of our cars. Bystanders outside the Beaumont could only stop and stare. Nobody was dumb enough to interfere.
Though nothing’s been proven in the eyes of the law, the general public is well aware they’re not to mess with a man like me.
My first thought was this must’ve been Little Luca Lovato’s poor work. He stands at barely five feet yet has the audacity of somebody twice his size. The piece of shit’s the cousin of my old nemesis Tony Lovato and the nephew of his father, Lovato Senior. Ever since I exterminated his whole family, Little Luca’s been on a revenge quest against me.
He’s tried so many times to take me down. More nuisance than serious threat, I’ll admit he’s managed to escape my clutches. My men have been searching for him for months—to finish off what they started when I had the Lovato’s wiped off this earth.
Was what happened on the rooftop at the party, another poorly executed assassination attempt from Luca?
I strode out the Beaumont, ready to depart the scene and head to my nearest compound, where we’d get to know Tommy real well and find out. My driver opened the car door for me as a mousy woman broke away from the bystanders in the area.
“Tommy!” she screamed. Tears shone on her cheeks, her bug eyes magnified by the thick glasses she wore. She rushed forward, her bushy hair like a broom, but Dominico blocked her, holding her off. “Let him go! He hasn’t done anything. Don’t hurt him!”
I gestured for Dominico to shut her up and then slid in the back seat of my car. No crying woman was going to save Tommy Peronne. He wanted my attention. He got it.
We took him to my compound. As always with guys we bring in, we gave him the floor to speak his piece.
The lunatic huffed and puffed, scanning the room for any available exits. He wasn’t much—about average height, slimmer than most these days, swimming in clothes that looked secondhand. I would’ve felt sorry for him if he wasn’t such a dumb motherfucker trying to get at me.
“Well?” I said calmly, motioning for him to go on. “Speak. You fought security for a chance to be this up close with me. What the fuck do you want?”
“You’re so big and bad with your posse,” he spat, his chest heaving. “You can’t ever face anybody man to man!”
My eyes narrowed, piercing him with a hard stare. This asshole thought he could call me out in front of my inner circle like I’m some bitch. My men do handle my dirty work on most occasions. That’s the luxury you’re afforded when you’re a King.
But Tommy was mistaken. I’m never above getting my hands dirty.
“What’s this about, Tommy? Do you have a message from Luca for me? My patience is running out. Speak your fucking mind.”
“I don’t work for no Luca Lovato. I work for myself. But you’ve destroyed his family like you’ve destroyed mine. One day,” he said, lifting his chin up with pride, “one day you’re going to pay for the shit you’ve done. Karma’s going to hit you real hard for the shit you’ve done—the families you’ve torn apart.”
It was then that it occurred to me. Tommy Peronne may not have been a familiar face, but this wasn’t my first encounter with somebody sharing his DNA. Even I was surprised by the deep laugh that rumbled out of me.
“Peronne,” I repeated. “The same Peronne from my days starting out.”
“You killed my dad! You tore apart my family. Do you know what that did to us? How we could barely put food on the table because my mom couldn’t find work? How you dumped my dad’s body at a fucking compost heap to decay? You piece of shit, you deserve to rot in hell!”
Tommy was drudging up ancient history. Shit that happened years and years ago, before I was even acapoheading one of my father’s crews. I was a rookie, eager to prove myself to Pa and the other high-ranking men. I’d put a bullet in Tommy Peronne’s father at the behest of my own uncle, Claro. He and Tommy’s dad had had beef.
I settled the score. It was my first official kill. The murder that earned me my status as a Made Man.
“It’s been over a decade, Tommy,” I told him. I held out my hand. Dominico passed over the metal baseball bat I’d had him fetch since we arrived. “How were you planning on avenging your father? Were you going to shoot me?”
“We found him carrying a Colt pistol,” said one of my younger soldiers, Marino.
I nodded along. “So you were going to kill me, Tommy?”
“If it ain’t me this time, it’ll be somebody else next time!” he ranted, spittle flying from his mouth. “You’ve set up a bed you’re gonna have to lie in one of these days!”
“Shut the fuck up,” I snarled, winding the bat. “I’ve had enough of your mouth. You failed at your assassination attempt, Tommy. You’ve had your big moment to shine, and all you’ve done is show how you’re too fucking stupid to concoct a real revenge scheme. If you’re going to kill me, make sure you get the job done,cazzo.”
I’d knocked him upside the head with the bat. The metal collided with his skull and cracked it open like a coconut. He’d dropped to the floor, blood pouring out thicker than a waterfall. Somehow he kept consciousness, twitching as he stared up at me. The split in his head was gruesome.
I could see inside his skull—crimson red blood leaked out and slimy, sinewy chunks of his brain broke off. A couple more blows he’d be smashed to smithereens.
