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Soon, I’ll be in charge and then no one will dare ever try to pull the wool over our eyes. They’ll be too scared to fart without permission.
This sort of shit won’t need to happen anymore. I’ll be able to relax and rake it in, spend the profits where I choose, not where my father deems most appropriate. Which right now is apparently funding Michael’s gambling.
It didn’t take long to get to the truth of this particular issue. Michael whispers that they can take a cut as long as some of that cut goes direct to him, bypasses the family accounts. Son of a bitch got one man killed and many more bloodied. Not that he’ll give a shit. He’ll already have spent his cut. There’s no point even trying to get it off him.
I put it out of my mind. No need to think about that.
I can’t wait any longer. I need to get this whole thing resolved. I’ve arranged the wedding for tomorrow. She will walk down the aisle. It is happening.
I can enjoy my evening tonight with Ophelia. Spend it showing her the error of her ways. My hand slapping on her ass should get the point across well enough.
She doesn’t answer her buzzer but a greasy haired guy with a weight problem is on the way out when I arrive. “What do you want?” he asks as I stare back at him. “No rooms available right now.”
“I’m going to see someone.”
“Who?” He’s too dumb to know he should be scared of me. This is going to be fun.
“Ophelia Addams.”
He sneers at me. “Always late with her rent, that one. Friends with that darkie. Tell her to make sure she doesn’t fall behind again or I’ll …”
He doesn’t get to say another word. I’m lifting him up by the throat, not easy given the amount of pounds he’s carrying. “You never speak of her again, you racist piece of shit,” I tell him. “You never knock on her door. You never complain about her. You never think about her. I hear any word out of your mouth about her or Cathy ever again and I’ll cut off your balls and feed them to the rats in the gutter while you watch. Got it?”
He’s gagging but I don’t drop him until I get a half nod of panic.
“Good.”
I dump him on the ground where he flops about like a dying fish. “Who are you?” he wheezes.
“Vincenzo Felici. You heard of me?”
“Yeah, sure, I’ve heard of you.”
“You know what I do to people I don’t like?”
“Yeah, sure I know. Everyone knows.”
“So get the fuck out of my sight before I do it to you.”
He crawls outside, not looking back, still gasping for air. I ignore him, heading up in the elevator.
I get up to hers and hammer on the door. No reply. I try again. Nothing.
I listen to the door. Is she there? No sound coming from within.
I call her but she isn’t answering. Son of a bitch. Does she think she can ignore my letter? I never guessed she’d have the gall to do that.
I punch in a number on my phone and wait for it to answer. A wheezing man’s voice speaks quietly down the line when it connects. “Vincenzo,” he says. “Been a while.”
“You run a number for me, Carlo?”
“I ever let you down?”
I give him Ophelia’s phone number. “How long?” I ask when he’s got it.
“Thirty seconds.”
“Faster than last time.”
