Antony (2 page)

Chapter Two

Johnathan tossed a pack of cigarettes over the hood of the Cadillac. Antony caught them easily, pulling one out to light it up.

“What are we doing here?” Antony asked, looking over the dingy, worn down warehouse.

“Vinnie had a package dropped off here last night. We need to handle it.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“All right,” Antony muttered.

Antony followed John into the warehouse, ignoring the stale smell in the air that reminded him of a mixture of urine and vomit. John flicked on the lights, illuminating the space. Antony’s gaze immediately zoned in on the bound figure in the middle of the empty floor.

He recognized the tied up, passed out man as one of Vinnie’s enforcers. The guy usually watched over the boss’s family specifically.

“A package, huh?” Antony asked.

John sighed. “I wasn’t allowed to tell you until we got inside.”

“And we have to take care of it.”

It wasn’t even a question.

John nodded.

“Well, then. Any other instructions?” Antony asked.

“Take your time,” John murmured.

Great.

It other words: make it hurt.

Antony noticed the tin bucket nearly full to the rim with water. Looking up, he noted it must have been used as a water catcher because the roof was dripping into it. There was a dozen more like those all over the empty warehouse floor.

“What is this place, anyway?” Antony asked.

“Just a place,” John replied.

“I hate it when you’re vague, John.”

“Earn your button, Tony.”

Antony openly glared. “Not all of us can have ours handed over, John.”

“Cute, asshole.” John waved at the bound man. “You can start earning yours by doing as the boss asked. Besides, he specifically requested you be the one to work with me today.”

Antony perked at that statement. “Huh.”

He didn’t need to be told again. Antony walked forward, grabbing the tin bucket of water as he passed. When he came up to the passed out enforcer, he tossed the water over the man’s head, waking him up. The guy struggled and shouted, spluttering water everywhere.

“Please don’t mess up my suit,” Antony said. “That would be a damn shame.”

The enforcer’s eyes widened. “Wh-what?”

Antony always carried a gun, but he preferred knives, really. He pulled the switchblade out of his slacks pocket, waving it in front of the man.

“We’re going to start with your face, yes? That way, every time you scream, it’s not going to feel particularly good.” Antony smiled, knowing it looked cruel.

Killing was easy for Antony. Business as always. Blood didn’t bother him and a man’s screams never did, either. This was Cosa Nostra. Men lived by these rules and they died by them. Clearly this man had broken one.

Antony had a job to do.

The enforcer swallowed hard.

“What did you do that landed you here?” Antony asked, honestly curious.

“I don’t know.”

Antony cocked a brow. “You don’t know?”

The man shook his head.

“John?” Antony asked, knowing his friend would have heard his earlier question.

“He wasn’t just watching Kate, if you get what I mean.”

The enforcer choked on air. “I did not!”

Antony tossed a look at John over his shoulder. His friend was stoic and silent. On more than one occasion, John had told Antony that Kate was known for her lies. Antony wasn’t entirely sure if that was true or not, but John wasn’t a liar. Was this man about to lose his life for another round of Kate’s bullshit?

“We don’t have a choice, man,” John said. “Boss’s orders.”

Antony turned back to the enforcer and shrugged.

Take your time.

• • •

February, 1984

Antony Marcello didn’t break the rules. Not the ones that mattered, anyway. In the world of La Cosa Nostra, justice was served with a single word and a bullet, not a courthouse and a judge. When he was told to jump, there was only one appropriate response:
How high, Boss
?

One of the most important rules he learned growing up was to never shun a Don. It wouldn’t lead to anything good to act like an arrogant asshole in front of someone who had far more power than you. Especially in a world where the only thing that mattered was if you could follow orders and make money.

Antony had both of those things going for him, even if he wasn’t a Made man in Cosa Nostra but he still didn’t have his goddamn button.

So yeah, Antony followed the fucking rules. Even if that meant driving through the streets of Hell’s Kitchen to find his boss a goddamn donair sub from a restaurant he hadn’t ever heard of before. Because when the Don called, you got your dumb Italian ass out of bed, regardless if you only fell asleep an hour before and did whatever it was that he asked of you.

Like finding a stupid sandwich shop that was apparently open twenty-four hours a day with a sign you couldn’t miss.

Antony was beginning to think someone was pulling a stunt on him.

Sweet Christ.

He did one more drive through the streets and still couldn’t find the goddamn restaurant in question. Finally tired of the runaround, Antony pulled his car over at the first payphone he saw. Leaving his car running, he jumped out and ran into the booth to escape the heavy rain pouring down. His hands were frozen before he could even finishing dialing the number.

John picked up on the second ring. As Vinnie’s underboss, all calls went to him and then he would decide if they were important enough to go through to the boss. Or rather, the message was. Associates didn’t get to speak or see the boss at all.

“
Ciao
,” John greeted.

Antony took note his friend sounded wide awake and ready for the day.

It was three in the goddamn morning!

“John, I swear to fuckin’ God, if you’re screwing me around tonight by making me run all over Hell’s Kitchen for nothing, I will—”

John laughed, cutting Antony’s threat off. “Remember that warehouse we went to a month ago?”

“What about it?” Antony barked.

“You’ve got twenty minutes to get there, asshole. Don’t be late.”

Antony’s brow furrowed. “But—”

“Actually, nineteen, now. Don’t be late, Antony. Trust me.”

“That’s a thirty-minute drive from here.”

“Fly, then.”

The phone call hung up.

Cristo
.

• • •

The warehouse was dark when Antony arrived. Checking his watch, he took note of the fact he made it on time with three minutes to spare. He sighed harshly as he got out of his car, wondering for a second time if Johnathan was somehow screwing him over tonight. Nevertheless, he figured he should check inside the goddamn warehouse before he called John from a payphone again.

Antony walked around the side of the building to the front entrance, stopping up short at the sight of a dozen cars parked there, all turned off. The warehouse was just as dark in the front as it had been on the side.

Two people stood waiting for him the darkness. He recognized the shape of their familiar forms before they even said a word.

“What’s going on?” Antony asked.

Paulie chuckled. “Something big, Tony.”

“Something important,” Johnathan added. “Strip.”

Antony froze. “What?”

“Hurry up, you’ve got three minutes to be inside that warehouse or you lose the chance, man,” Johnathan said. “Take your clothes off.”

“It’s the middle of winter, John!”

“Gotta make sure you’re not wearing a wire, you know.”

That was just fucking offensive.

Antony was a lot of things, but he was not a rat.

“I am not—”

“You’re never going to get your button, Tony,” John interrupted. “Not wasting time and running off at the mouth like you are. You’ve got two minutes to make face with the boss and the rest of the men before you lose your chance at the button forever. You only get the one for this, okay. Strip.”

“The button?” Antony asked quietly, still unsure.

“Yours, maybe.”

Elation and fear raced through Antony’s veins. He knew how these traditions were handled in Cosa Nostra but as an unmade man, he shouldn’t know anything at all. Somehow, information always had a way of bleeding out.

Antony didn’t have time to dwell on it.

He pulled off his jacket before he unbuttoned his dress shirt. Paulie came up beside him to take the articles of clothing. The freezing cold air wrapped around Antony from all angles, taking his fucking breath away with the chill.

Once he was naked, Antony met John’s gaze, who hadn’t once looked down. His friend was wearing the cockiest, smuggest smirk Antony had ever seen.

“Got something to say to me, asshole?” Antony asked his old friend.

John shrugged. “Yeah, wear this or you’re going to embarrass yourself in there.”

Antony took the red towel John offered and wrapped it around his waist. “An apology would be nice.”

“You’re never gonna get one, Tony.”

“Not for this, anyway,” Antony said.

“I thought you’d call me quicker than what you did, I guess.”

Antony laughed, saying, “The boss wanted food.”

“And you always follow the rules,” John replied. “I know. Nominations for the button came up a month ago.”

“Did they?” Antony asked John.

“Yeah. A seat needed to be filled.”

Antony’s father died, so that made sense. When a seat emptied in the family, it needed to be filled.

“So, you got my nomination, Tony.”

“I seconded it,” Paulie put in.

“Your grandfather didn’t say a thing,” John said.

Antony wasn’t surprised. “He wanted me to earn it without him giving it to me in some way.”

John grinned. “I figured. Stay quiet, answer only when spoken to, and don’t panic. All right?”

“All right.”

• • •

Antony squinted his eyes as the blinding light shined down on him, making him unable to see the men chatting quietly in the darkness. When had that goddamn spotlight been set up, anyway? He didn’t remember that when he was here with John a month ago.

Shifting on his bare feet, Antony tried like hell to ignore the fact he was cold as hell and getting more exhausted by the second. He’d been directed to stand in the circle of light, stay quiet, and the boss would invite him into a conversation when he was ready to do so.

Antony had been standing for at least two hours.

“Cosa Nostra is, at its heart, a family,” Antony heard his boss say.

Confirmative murmurs passed through the darkness.

“
La famiglia
is like it has always been, a force of many men, not just one man,” Vinnie Catrolli continued. “And because of that, I will allow the men of La Cosa Nostra to interrogate you however they please tonight, Antony Marcello. They will speculate on your loyalty and your devotion to our family and business. They will question your beliefs and deliver their expectations for you after tonight. Your responses, your choice of words, will determine how this night ends, Marcello.”

Antony forced back his sudden anxiety. A little preparation for the intensity this night was going to be would have been good. “Okay.”

“There are only two ways it can end,” Vinnie added. “You walk out of here a made man …”

“Or you won’t walk out at all,” Antony heard his grandfather finish.

Vinnie came to stand at the mouth of the darkness, giving Antony a view of his boss. “Do you understand, Marcello?”

Antony nodded. “Yes.”

“Did you walk in here by your own free will?”

“I did,” he answered.

“Are you prepared to follow this night through regardless of the end result?”

“I am.”

“Then, let’s begin.”

Chapter Three

Vinnie turned his back to Antony, saying, “You are not to move, they will want to see your face at all times through all questioning. You are not to sit. You are not to speak unless spoken to. What is most important in your life, Marcello?”

“
La famiglia
,” Antony said instantly, knowing that was the only appropriate answer.

“What comes second?” asked a voice from the crowd.

Antony hated that he couldn’t see the men. While they were gauging his reactions, he would prefer to monitor theirs, too. This put him on an edge where he didn’t want to be.

He did not have the advantage here.

Antony thought of his father’s lessons over the years. The mumbled words through drunken spiels and the occasional clarity in-between.

Family first, Antony.

God second.

“God,” Antony said.

“What are you prepared to give for La Cosa Nostra?” asked another person.

“My life.”

“Your children?”

“My sons,” Antony responded.

“Your daughters, too?”

Tension crawled over Antony’s shoulders at the question. He forced the word out, anyway. “Yes.”

“If your wife called from the labor room and your boss called from his home, who would you answer?”

“My boss.”

The questions kept coming. Some flew out from voices he recognized, others from men he was sure he didn’t know at all. His grandfather never asked a thing and neither did Paulie or Johnathan. Antony suspected that was because Andino was his family while Paulie and John had made the nomination for him.

The longer he stood there, the colder Antony became until he was shivering and his teeth chattered through the questions.

Cristo
, they could have picked a better place for this.

Antony, despite freezing his ass off and uncomfortable in the spotlight like he was, managed to maintain his calm, cool demeanor through the nonstop questioning. He barely blinked a lash when the suggestion of killing family and close friends for Cosa Nostra was tossed out. He didn’t move at all, even when the towel around his waist felt like it was going to drop and expose his cock to the room.

No, he just … followed the rules.

Finally, the room fell silent. Vinnie asked if there was any more questions. No one answered.

“Are there any objections to this man joining
la famiglia
?” Vinnie asked.

“No.”

“No, Boss.”

More voices echoed through the warehouse, confirming Antony’s button.

It wasn’t finished yet, he knew.

Vinnie came into view again, stepping into the light with Antony. In his hand, he held four things. A lighter, a gun, a silver knife, and the face of Saint Anthony on a small card.

“Do you wish to take the
omertà
?” Vinnie asked.

“Yes, Boss,” Antony said.

Vinnie waved the card of the Saint. “I figured this particular Saint fit you well, Marcello. Beyond the name, of course, Saint Anthony was known for his sanctity to his religion and God. Seems to me, you’re another man whose devotion to the family will help leave your marks everywhere.”

Antony didn’t crack a smile. “I hope so.”

“From this point on, your word is your reputation and your life. You answer and live for only
la famiglia
. La Cosa Nostra—this thing of ours—is a beautiful thing, Antony. But it’s also a dangerous, ugly and difficult thing. You will be expected to uphold honorable standards at all times and to ensure that other men are maintaining theirs. The family comes first, always. Your desires, your wants and wishes, are unimportant to the family’s needs and demands.”

“I understand.”

“Your hand?” Vinnie asked, raising his own to take Antony’s.

Antony offered his hand palm up for the Don. He didn’t have time to blink before the knife was slicing a three-inch cut across his palm. Vinnie’s fingers tightened around Antony’s wrist to an almost painful point, like a cuff locking him in for life. Blood pooled, spilling to the floor, splashing the warm life source over Antony’s feet and toes.

It hurt like a motherfucker. The stronger Vinnie squeezed, the worse the pain became.

Antony didn’t move a muscle.

Vinnie released Antony’s hand before setting the side of the Saint’s card on fire. He rested the burning card in Antony’s palm. Fire licked at his skin and the injury, but it wasn’t all that bad, anymore.

“Open your mouth, Marcello,” Vinnie ordered.

Antony did as he was told.

The tip of Vinnie’s knife slid along the inside of Antony’s lower lip. The slice bled instantly, filling Antony’s mouth with the taste of tangy copper.

“Tell me the rules, Antony,” Vinnie said.

Antony met the Don’s gaze as he replied, “Always keep your dignity in all situations. Never touch or look at another man of honor’s wife. Be available for Cosa Nostra at all times. Cops are not to be associated with and neither are those who align themselves with them. Never introduce yourself to another made man, but instead, have someone else who knows both and is of honorable standing present you. Wives must be treated with the utmost care and respect. Bad behavior is not tolerated. Never steal from the family. A boss’s word is law and we are never to kill another man of honor.”

Antony’s mouth had filled with blood. He could feel it trickling down the side of his lips. Vinnie seemed to notice.

“Don’t swallow or spit your blood out,” Vinnie said. “Not while you speak your oath. Understood?”

Antony gave a single nod in response, ignoring the blood pooling in his mouth and gathering at his throbbing lip.

“You see, La Cosa Nostra owns even your blood now,” Vinnie murmured. “Remember that as it floods your mouth and slides down your throat without your permission. Remember that we are the only people who are allowed to spill your blood or let it continue flowing through your veins, boy. Speak your oath, if you still want to.”

Antony felt his lips move, speaking words he’d heard whispered over the years, but he barely heard a thing over the blood rushing in his ears. He’d waited a long time for this moment; waited for this one thing to be his and now it was.

“I willingly hand my life to Cosa Nostra,
la famiglia
—our thing,” Antony whispered. “The values and beliefs of the family are my own to protect and defend until the day I am put to rest. Should I ever betray this thing of ours, my greatest wish is that my flesh and bones be burned like the face of this Saint.”

Ashes crumbled in Antony’s palm.

“You are Mafioso,” Vinnie said.

“I am Mafioso,” Antony repeated.

Vinnie smiled. “Welcome to the family, kid.”

Hollers released into the warehouse. Lights flicked on, illuminating the space to Antony’s blinded gaze.

“
Cristo
, you did well,” Vinnie said.

“Thank you.”

Antony was still trying to forget about the blood running down his face. He spat the remainder of his bloody saliva to the cement floor.

“And clean yourself up,” the boss added. “
Dio
, you are damn filthy, Marcello.”

“The Filthy Marcello,” Andino said, coming to stand beside his boss. “I like that. One of us Marcellos has to be a little dirty, anyway. Better for it to be you, Tony.”

Antony suspected that title was going to follow him for a long fucking time.

• • •

“I don’t think so,” Andino said from the head of the table. “You know how Vinnie feels about narcotic dealing.”

Paulie shrugged across the table from Antony. “It’s like this, the shit is filling the streets, Andino. People are smoking it up and popping it back like candy. He can either get in on that or let others tramp their way through his streets making money off it.”

“He’s got a valid point,” Antony mumbled around a bite of casserole.

“So be it, but I’m not the goddamn boss, Tony,” Andino replied. “And the boss says no.”

“What if they paid us to do it?” Antony asked.

Paulie cocked a brow. “What?”

“You know, like they paid us to be on our streets doing it. Then, they’re not paying us profits from the drugs, but they’re paying us to rent the streets. That kind of thing.”

Andino hummed, tapping his fork on the side of his plate. “That’s an interesting idea to consider.”

“It’s no different from the shopkeepers paying for protection, in a way,” Paulie said.

Antony shrugged. “Not really. They’re in our territory anyway. Frankly, drugs are one hell of a profitable venture and if Vinnie wants to up his cash flow from the normal dealings, that’d be a way to do it.”

“Well, when you’re the fucking boss, feel free to make the calls on that, Tony,” Andino said, following it up with a laugh.

Antony flicked his grandfather the middle finger. “Don’t go around saying that nonsense.
Cazzo merda
, you’ll get me killed.” 

Andino eyed his grandson. “I don’t know, Tony. You might make a good boss, yet.”

What in the hell was his grandfather getting at?

Antony had no interest in being the boss, certainly not at his age.

“Seriously, stop,” Antony muttered.

“Sure. For now.” Andino nodded at Paulie. “And you.”

“What about me?” Paulie asked.

“You’re late this month and you know that’s going to add more on your total debt, Paulie.”

Paulie stilled in his seat, tossing a glance across the table at his friend. Antony’s brow furrowed at his grandfather’s statement.

“What debt?” Antony asked.

Paulie cleared his throat, shaking his head. “It’s nothing, man.”

Antony didn’t believe that shit for a second.

Paulie didn’t grow up in the old money family Antony did. He didn’t have the wealth like the Marcellos or Catrollis had. Antony never cared about it, either. Paulie had been his right-hand since the two were young kids.

So young, in fact, that Antony couldn’t remember a time when Paulie wasn’t at his side. Johnathan had come into the fold a little later, but the three were inseparable in most things. Even as grown men starting their own lives, they were still a close trio.

“You owe my grandfather money?” Antony asked quietly. He’d posed the question to Paulie, but he looked to his grandfather for an answer. “Since when?”

Andino rested back in his chair, avoiding Antony’s stare. “Four years.”

“Four … what the
hell
, Paulie?” Antony demanded, turning back to his friend.

Owing money, especially for that amount of time, was a bad thing. Add on the fact Paulie owed a debt to a made man, and that was even worse.

“Better he came to me for it,” Andino said. “Another man might have caused issues for him whereas I’ve been easy on him.”

Antony couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Not just the fact Paulie owed his grandfather money, but that his friend hadn’t told him.

“Can I speak to you privately?” Antony asked Paulie.

Paulie stood from the table and dropped his napkin to the seat. Antony pushed his chair back, apologized to his grandfather, and followed Paulie to the living room where there was more privacy.

“Why didn’t you come to me?” Antony asked the moment he knew they couldn’t be overheard.

Paulie sighed heavily. “I didn’t want you to know. It’s nothing important.”

“You’re late this month,” he said. “That’s fucking important.”

“Slow month.”

Antony figured he understood why Paulie had brought up the topic of getting in on narcotics, now.

“What was it for?” Antony asked.

“School and the wedding, plus the down payment for the house.”

Antony knew Paulie worked hard to get his medical degree. The guy had a couple of more years yet in school because his time was drawn thin between family, work, and college. Still, Antony respected the hell out of his friend for wanting to be something more than just a made man like his father had been.

“How much does being late add onto the total debt?”

“Two percent,” Paulie answered.

“How much do you still owe?”

“A little over a hundred-thousand.”

Antony’s heart stopped. That was a lot of money for someone like Paulie to have to pay.

“God, you should have come to
me
, Paulie.”

“Tony, you don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like to fucking struggle in this way. I want to succeed, but I don’t want it handed to me, okay. If I had come to you for money, you would have handed it over no questions asked.”

“Exactly!”

“Yes,
exactly
,” his friend replied hotly. “I want to have it because I earned it, Antony. Not because you or anyone else gave it to me.”