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I sigh and wipe my mouth on a napkin. I glance at my cousin Evgeni who is eating beside me. “Did I not just say I’m eating?”
“It’s from the Sorvinos,” Leonid says, and I look at him and push my plate to the side.
I pull the box towards me. The soggy bottom leaves a disgusting streak of wetness on the table. I open the box and see the hand of my Uncle, wedding ring and all, sitting neatly in the box. The blood has soaked the bottom, and there can be no doubt that he’s dead. I take out the hand and examine it before I look at Leonid. “He was utterly useless anyway. All the man did was drink vodka and fuck painted whores.”
I set the hand down on the table next to me, push the box away and pull my plate back to me. I continue to eat, mulling over the message from Alessandro Sorvino.
Leonid sits opposite me. “The messenger said Don Sorvino says to stay away from his family and those under his protection.”
“Isn’t that sweet,” I say snidely.
“Should we tell our people that we’re at war with them,” Evgeni asks.
“Always so quick to make a rash judgment when it’s better to think things through first.”
I eat some more of my fish, enjoying the flavors. It reminds me of home.
Leonid shifts in his seat. “I have a shipment coming in a few months, maybe seven. I’m not entirely sure. I’m waiting for confirmation. It’s going to bring in a lot of money.” He signals to the waiter to bring a glass for him. Once it’s set down, he pours from the bottle of vodka on the table. “Money we’ll need if we go to war.”
“War is costly,” I say, wiping my mouth again and sipping my vodka.
“So we will declare war?” Evgeni asks, clearly confused.
“No, but I have a message for Don Sorvino. One that I will personally deliver to him.” I stand up, and both my cousin and adopted brother stand up. “I’ll do it alone.”
“Is that safe?” Leonid asks. He’s always been my right-hand man and second in charge. Originally he was my cousin, but his parents were killed in a bombing, and my parents took him in as my brother. I smile and place a hand on his shoulder. “It will be fine. You worry too much.”
I leave them behind at the table, pausing by the kitchen to bid my mother farewell with a kiss before I leave to go to my car. I glance at the time. I’ll be a little early, but I know the grocery store that Alessandro frequents. I’ll go there and wait for him to make an appearance so I can talk to him.
I once sought an alliance with his family, and I think about that as I start to drive. Once upon a time, I felt that if we united, we’d be unstoppable, but Alessandro married Katya, a rival family. Then his brother married the daughter of another family. His other brother married the daughter of an Argentinian Don, and then his cousin is getting married soon to another prominent Italian family. Their family is getting too big, and they need to be put back in their place, but perhaps now is just as good a time to make an alliance. Avoid war with numerous families by uniting under one.
I park across the street from the grocery store and turn my engine off. I wait patiently. There are various ways to unite, and I’m sure Alessandro doesn’t want a war any more than I do, although he may want revenge.
Alessandro and a woman walk into the grocery store, and I get out of the car, casually walking across the street and into the store.
It’s a proper Italian grocer, not something I would frequent often, but I know Alessandro owns the building and the family here is good to him. I make it my business to know things about my enemies.
I stroll around the store pretending to browse. It’s relatively large for a grocer, and I find Alessandro in the deli section with a woman I know is not his wife, Katya. I observe them for a moment. She’s beautiful and definitely family. She has those eyes, and when she speaks to Alessandro, she has admiration and a smile to dazzle.
I walk over and stand next to him as though it’s the most normal thing to do.
Alessandro doesn’t look in my direction, but I feel the tension rise between us. I pick up a sausage and inspect it as I say, “I got your message, Don Sorvino.”
The woman falls silent, and I can feel uncertainty roll off her. She knows this is business but isn’t sure if she should stay or not.
“If my uncle dies, Pakhan Volkov, there will be a blood tribute to pay,” Alessandro says, as though this is just everyday shop talk.
I smile. “I expected as much. You know these things happen between families from time to time. It’s an unfortunate consequence of being in our line of business.” I put the sausage back as a worker hurries to assist me. “I’ll take some Mortadella and porchetta.”
“How much?” the worker asks nervously.
“Half a pound each for my mother,” I say before looking at Alessandro, who is being helped by an older gentleman.
The woman he is with is staring at me with anger in her eyes. From the anger I see reflected there, I can only guess she’s closer to the man my guys shot than Alessandro is, perhaps his daughter.
“What do you want?” Alessandro asks, turning to me at last.
“Unity, wars are so expensive, especially the cost of lives lost. Perhaps a marriage between our families and an equal distribution of territories to ease over a transition,” I suggest, turning to watch the young man preparing my order.
