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Lorenzo has been Giuseppe’s underboss for almost fifteen years, which is longer than I’ve been a capo. It’s understandable that he was surprised by the don’s decision. Everyone was, including me. Usually, when a don dies or decides to step down, it’s his son or son-in-law who takes over the leadership. If that’s not the case, then the reigns are passed to the underboss. My new grandfather-in-law chose to forge a new path.
“Are you sure you can handle everything your new position will entail?” he asks.
I’ve never aspired to lead the Family. Making arms deals, managing transactions so everything runs smoothly, and bringing in money was my main focus. Presently, the operations I oversee account for more than fifty percent of our earnings.
“Do you think you'd make a better don?” I ask.
“Let’s be real here, Luca. You’re a businessman and you do a great job. But you rarely attend Family events, and I’m pretty sure you have no idea how to handle internal affairs.”
He’s right. I don’t give a damn about their dinners, or who banged whose wife. Assuming the head position of the Chicago Cosa Nostra means resolving a bunch of private matters, meddling in debt issues between high-level members, and arranging marriages within the Family. Other people’s personal drama is not something I enjoy. But how little I care aboutthe social aspect of the job doesn’t mean I’ll allow anyone to question my abilities.
“Yes, I assume you’d be better versed in handling that part, considering that sitting at parties is all you’ve been doing recently. Tell me, Lorenzo, would you run the Family the same way you’re running our casinos? Because from what I know, you’ve been dealing with significant losses for months.” I smile, enjoying the shock that spreads over his face. “Losses, might I add, that were covered with the profits I brought in from the gun deals. Maybe you should focus on taking care of your own shit before you aspire to take on more responsibilities?”
“He who flies high, falls deep,” Lorenzo mumbles into his glass.
I smile and grab the knot of his tie, pulling him up slightly. “I didn’t hear you well.” I bend, getting into his face, “Can you please repeat that?”
Lorenzo’s nostrils flare as the redness starts spreading over his face. He stares at me with bulging eyes for a few moments, then grits his teeth.
“I said, your information is wrong,” he sneers, “There is nothing wrong with the casino business.”
“Oh. My bad, then.” I release his tie and nod toward the corner of the room. “Seems like your wife is looking for you.”
Lorenzo gives me one angry stare, then marches away, and I turn my eyes back to my young wife. Franco Conti, the capo in charge of laundering money, is speaking with Emma, Isabella’s mother. I haven’t collaborated with Franco much, since he only handles money that comes from our casinos. Damian is in charge of laundering what my operations make, and I plan on keeping it that way. Standing next to Franco is Dario D’Angelo, the oldest son of Capo Santino D’Angelo, talking with Isabella.She smiles at something he says, then turns toward her sister, and I notice the way Dario’s gaze passes down her body while she’s not looking. Grinding my teeth, I pivot around and head to the bar. Who she talks to shouldn’t concern me. I’m halfway to my destination when I hear female laughter ring out behind me, so I peer over my shoulder. Isabella and her sister are giggling at something Dario has just said.
It shouldn't bother me that another man can make her laugh. But it does. It’s like a damn itch in my side. I ignore the urge to walk over and shoo Santino’s son away from Isabella. Instead, I join Orlando Lombardi, another capo who handles the Family’s gambling business, at the bar.
“Did you hear about last week’s shitstorm in New York?” he asks when I take a seat next to him.
“I’m not into gossip.” I motion for the barman to bring me another seltzer. “Too much shit to deal with here.”
“Ajello annihilated two Camorra clans in one night. Forty-seven people. Looks like they tried sticking their fingers in his business.” Orlando leans close to me. “One of my nieces is married to a guy who works as a foot soldier for Ajello. She heard Ajello was shot during the skirmish.”
I take a sip of my drink. What the don of New York does doesn’t concern me in the least, I have no business with him. But I can’t say I’m not a bit curious. That man has always been a mystery. “Is he dead?”
“No. But that’s all I know,” Orlando says. “His ranks are too tightly stitched, and his men are loyal to a point of madness. My niece only overheard the conversation when her husband talked over the phone with someone.”
I’m trying my best to keep my eyes focused on my drink, but can’t fight the compulsion to take another look at Isabella. WhenI do, I find her watching me. The moment our gazes connect, however, she turns back to Dario.
“You know, I sometimes think that man doesn’t exist,” Orlando continues. “How come no one has ever met him?”
“Giuseppe did,” I say and glance at my wife again. She’s still talking with the idiot. “Last year.”
“No! Why did he never mention it?”
“Because Giuseppe doesn’t need to share what he does with anyone.”
“He told you,” he says with an envious glint in his eyes. “What was the meeting about?”
“One of our soldiers went to New York to visit a girlfriend who was there for work. And he didn’t ask permission to enter Ajello’s territory. Giuseppe met with Ajello to resolve the issue.”
“And did they? Resolve the issue?”
“Yes.” I nod but keep one eye on Isabella.
“Ajello released the guy?”
“In a way,” I say. “He sent back his head via FedEx.”
