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“And you have the time to sink into playing around on Broadway for months? I wish I had that kind of time,” a thirdcaposays with the sting of condescending sarcasm. “Perhaps your drug channels are drying up and leaving you with too much time on your hands?”
“Not at all,” I grin back at him venomously. “My trafficking business is at its most successful point yet. You forget that I have two brothers who help run my ship. I guess some of the rest of your families are lacking the same sort of strong, deep support my ownborgatahas.” If that sounds like a threat, then good. It was meant to. I don’t want any of these other kingpins thinking this is a chance to try and make a move on any of my connections or territories.
I’m telling the truth—I do have two strong brothers who can oversee much of the business myborgatadelves into. But if I’m being honest, I’m actually not sure how I’m going to balance it all. I didn’t give it any thought before blurting out my impromptu solution to squelch their concerns. At least I can get these guys to back down a bit. I mean, how hard can it be to keep an eye on a play? I know full-well that means I’ll be able to keep an eye on Dahlia too. Granted, that might be even more of a distraction than a helpful measure.
My meeting with the other bosses ends with most of them being at least temporarily satisfied that all hell won’t break loose, even if a few of them are still visibly disgruntled. It’s the best I can do for now. After the meeting, I call the director. This needs to be approached from multiple angles at once. “Mister Wales, please,” I say to the woman who answers the phone. These directors all consider themselves to be artists of great importance, important enough to need assistants answering their cell phones for them, apparently.
“Hello?”
“Hector,” I say in my usual cool tone. “I need to talk to you about the play.”
“Don’t tell me you’re pulling funding,” Hector groans. “I knew something was wrong when you canceled our meeting yesterday.”
“Sorry about that. I ran into an issue on my way to see you at the theatre.” I smile when I think about the “issue” being Dahlia. “But no, I’m not pulling funding. I’m sure you’re aware thatBlood Roseis a controversial subject matter here in the city, though. And there are plenty of people who’d be very happy if I did retract my monetary support.”
“So, what is it you want to talk to me about, then?” Hector asks.
I respect his ability to cut to the chase. “I’m going to be taking a very hands-on approach to this production,” I say. “Sitting in on the rehearsals to watch over things, making some of the production decisions along the—”
“That’s highly unusual behavior for a benefactor and patron,” Hector interrupts. His voice gives away that he’s already bristling at the thought of my direct involvement. In his defense, it is indeed unusual.
“Unconventional or not,” I say, “that’s what needs to happen in exchange for the funding I’ve promised. You’ve raised the attention of a lot of the more prominent heads of the actual mafia, and that kind of attention could go both ways. Trust me when I say you want me involved, in order to keep everyone happy and keep your head off the chopping block.”
Hector sighs audibly but then concedes. “If it’s the only way to get the money, then I guess you have my agreement,” he says.
“Perfect. I’ll see you at first rehearsal in the morning.”
When I hang up the phone, I sink back into my chair and reach for my still-steaming coffee. I take the moment of quiet to mull over my thoughts before there’s another interruption vying for my time and attention. I guess that I shouldn’t be surprised that the first thing my mind wanders to is Dahlia. I want to be sure that I keep a close eye on her as well. Rehearsals haven’t even started yet and alreadyBlood Roseis drawing all kinds of attention and uproar within the mafia. That puts the faces of the play at risk—not just the director but the male and female leads as well. Hell, anyone associated with the production could be a target, if something about the show rubs Brutus or one of the othercaposthe wrong way. I know I should stay away from her, but I want to make sure Dahlia is safe. Ineedto make sure that Dahlia’s safe.
I don’t even get to the bottom of my coffee cup before there’s a knock on my door accompanied by a simultaneous text from my brother Petre:
Sorry,Vari, but he insisted he see you now
I goto open the door, wondering who it is that my brother found the need to let into my building without asking me first. When I open it, I find myself face to face with Brutus Serrano himself. The mafia is a smaller circle than most people might think. And in our business, Brutus and I are on even footing. In the eyes of the criminal underworld, he and I are equally as formidable and equally as feared. Both of our reputations precede us, and we both get what we want in this city. Which is why, for the most part, we try not to cross each other.
“Hello Vari,” Brutus says in my doorway. “My apologies for the intrusion, but I felt the need to speak with you one-on-one.”
I look around behind him and see he’s alone. Somecaposmight give pause before letting a man like Brutus Serrano inside their office, but not me. I can take him out just as easily if he tries to pull a piece on me.
I open the door wider and motion for him to come inside. If he came here alone to see me in person, then that just means he wants to talk. “You’re taking some big risks here, Vari,” he says as he sits down in one of my oversized chairs and opens his jacket. “I felt it only right to come and tell you what I know myself.” The mafia isn’t widely known for sharing information. In fact, for the most part, we like to hold our secrets close to the chest. So this too is unconventional. That means it must be something big.
I run a large part of the mafia’s designer drug business here in the Theatre District, and I’ve always been able to use threats, extortion, and other various means of violence in order to keep a painstakingly tight handle on things, including my adversaries. But I’m getting a bad feeling about the way some of the men are already acting toward this play before it’s even started to cause any real trouble, especially since Brutus has deemed it necessary to visit me in person. I just wish I knew why they all seem so unnerved by something as innocuous as a theatre performance. I mean, there are movies that portray the mafia too, but no one’s in an uproar over those.
Just as I’m trying to put my finger on why this all seems to be hitting too close to home, Brutus tells me what he really came to say. “You know that director I hear you’re going to be working with, Hector Wales?” he asks.
“Yeah, what about him?”
“Did you know he was formerly part of the Irish Mob?”
That I did not know.
“He defected and turned his back on them in order to go into Broadway,” Brutus continues.
“Why would he have needed to do that? Do the Irish have an aversion toward the performing arts?” I ask half-jokingly, because it seems rather absurd.
“I think they had an aversion toward Hector dividing his interests between his duty to the mob and traipsing around on a theatre stage. Hector chose his love for performing above his allegiance to the mob.”
“I fail to see how that matters, then,” I say, feeling even more vindicated in my decision not to shut down the production. “The Irish Mob might be an adversary, but a Broadway theatre director isn’t.”
