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“I mean, I assume you don’t get called ‘the Butcher’ for nothing.”
That makes me snort. “I think even the other captains are afraid of him. My dad hates his guts. Only tolerates him because his crew brings in so much money.”
Alessandro scratches the stubble on his jawline. “That makes sense. And it’s probably good for us. Sounds like he had moreof a working relationship with your dad than any actual loyalty. Shouldn’t be too hard to win him over.”
“I hope you’re right. My dad never wanted me to hear him talking about the business, but I know he bent over backwards keep that relationship friendly. I’m pretty sure Gio was the only man who ever really scared him.”
Maybe other than your grandfather,I think, not finishing the thought.
***
I’ve met Giovanni “the Butcher” Lombardo several times at weddings and the like, but I’ve never been to his home. I feel uneasy as Alessandro’s henchman Dominic drives us out to his estate in Beauford Hills, one of Bover City’s suburbs.
“This neighborhood is swanky,” Dominic remarks, looking out the window at the impressive houses. “Guy almost lives like a boss. His is this one on the left.”
“What did my grandfather think of Gio Lombardo?” Alessandro asks Dominic as we pull up to the gate.
“Thought he was a mean bastard, from what I could tell. I remember him saying Tony Gagliardi would find a way to keep him in check if he had any sense. Gio’s crew being so profitable and all.”
A big man in a designer tracksuit comes out and glances into the car, then waves us through the gate.
“Okay,” says Dominic as we drive up to the house. “I’ll put ‘spending the night in Gio the Butcher’s mansion’ on the list of things I could have happily gone my whole life without doing.”
Same.
***
Giovanni Lombardo is attractive in that sleazy, rattish kind of way, with dark hair and absolutely dead eyes. He has two painful-looking scars on his left cheek that legend has it come from knife fighting in his youth, and his 40-something years haven’t done anything to soften the wiry strength of his frame.
He greets us at the door, looking me up and down in a fashion that isn’t quite subtle enough. “Alessandro Rossi,” he says, shaking my husband’s hand. “Your grandfather was a titan. I was deeply sorry to hear about his passing.”
“I appreciate that,” Alessandro replies stoically.
“But even from tragic loss, good things can come. I see you have brought your lovely new wife to my home. Congratulations on your marriage.” He kisses my hand. “And your associate is?”
Dominic holds out his hand. “Dominic Garcetti.”
They shake, and Gio leads us to the living room. Another man is sitting on the one of the couches, wearing a jacket that clashes horribly with his patterned shirt. “This is Roberto Costa, my second-in-command.”
Just as Gio did, Roberto looks me up and down before shaking hands with Alessandro and Dominic.
Yuck.
We sit down. The room around us is lavish, the star feature being an enormous fish tank in the center containing what seem to be…
“Are those piranhas?” Dominic asks, pointing.
Gio’s face lights up. “They are indeed! Red-bellied piranhas, specifically. Lovely little creatures.”
Alessandro nods his head appreciatively. “Is keeping them dangerous?”
Our host leans forward. “Not at all! They actually don’t deserve their reputation. Would you believe all thestuff you’ve heard about them came from Teddy Roosevelt? He went to the Amazon, see, and the natives wanted to give him a show. So they starved a school of piranhas and fed them a cow, and sure enough, those piranhas stripped the flesh from the bone. But in nature, they would never go after something that big unless it was already dead. Here, allow me to demonstrate.”
Gio stands up and walks over to the tank, which is about the size of a hot tub and as tall as his shoulders. Rolling up his sleeve, he reaches in through a window at the top and sticks his entire hand into the tank. The sharp-toothed fish swim around him, investigating, but not biting.
“I think the moral of the story,” says Gio, shaking the water off his hand and coming back to us, “is that dangerous things don’t need to be our enemies. We can live with them, if each party understands and respects the other. Wouldn’t you agree?”
***
