Mobster's Vendetta (15 page)

The restaurant is located in the heart of
Chicago’s Little Italy, and is owned by the Furlotti family. The
place is shut down to the public for the evening. Vito and I drive
to a designated spot a couple of blocks away to meet Pop and Donny.
We roll to a stop at their car and park. Vito and I get out
slamming our car doors, and Pop and Donny do the same. I light a
cigarette and take a puff as we all move to stand in the darkness
of the building beside us.

“Antonio!” Pop reaches out to me and hugs
me. His demeanor is sour and perturbed. I feel his familiar pat on
my back. It’s as comforting as ever.

“Hi Pop,” I say taking the burning cigarette
out of my mouth.

“I got some not so good
news, son.” He takes out a piece of paper and hands it to
me.
A letter?

I did what your son couldn’t. I have Tutti.
Send Antonio to the docks tonight where we met before. Same
time.

~D

“That filthy Demetrius!” Pop curses on his
name. “Do what you got do, Antonio! It’s kill or be killed.”

“How did you get this?” I ask Pop as Vito
stands over my shoulder reading.

“It was delivered to Donny by some
flunky.”

The sick son of a bitch is playing his hand.
My eyesight is as red as the tip of my cigarette, burning as hot as
the fires of hell. I want him. The whole package so that he can
never do this again. He is going down. He is done shattering lives
and not playing by the rules.

“Tonio,” Pop growls, “Take
as much firepower as you can. He’s clever; he’s probably figured
all this out a while ago. That fucker’s got nothing better to do
than start a
bloody crime
war
!”

If Demetrius succeeds in taking down me and
Uncle Tutti, he would be sending a deadly message to rivals. This
would put him on an even higher pedestal in the mob
underworld...would make him a living legend. But egos like that
just shorten your life span. If it wasn’t me he was fuckin’ with,
it would be someone else.

What is it about me that has
drawn his attention? He called me
‘Golden
Boy’
in the fight ring. I was born into
this life...I grew up in it. But Demetrius had to work his way in
and up. He had to prove himself worthy and get himself
noticed.

That note indicates that he wants to shame
me. Little does he know that he has done the exact opposite. He has
fueled my fury and wrath to a level that I have never felt before.
The monster inside me is uncontainable, ready to rip and tear.

“I’m going with you!” Vito spits acidly.
“There is nothing you can say or do to stop me! We handle this
together!” Vito’s tone is livid and unmoving.

I doubt I could stop him. Just like the last
time, he will not listen. When it comes to my welfare, Vito’s
loyalty overshadows and squashes his mafia discipline.

“We’ll figure it out,” I say quietly, trying
to contain my rage. Demetrius has moved into the wrong territory,
trying to steal my thunder. Uncle Tutti is mine to deal with.

“It’s time to go,” my father says, looking
at his watch. “We’ll meet you over there.”

The car ride to the restaurant will take no
time because we are only a few blocks away. At first, Vito and I
are quiet, both working out a strategy in our minds.

“We need to take Carlo, Alex, and Joey with
us,” he says out of the blue.

“We’ll call Patrick too. I want to let him
in on all this,” I tell him.

“I agree.”

Patrick has been an unusual ally. It is
weird to work with my girlfriend’s father on such a personal and
macabre level. It just solidifies the fucked up way things are.

“Set up a meeting tonight for after the
dinner.”

Vito makes some calls on his cell phone,
while I navigate to find a parking space. I scan the area the best
I can in the dark, checking for threats. This could turn out fine
tonight...this is the pre-show. Demetrius has planned the main
event for 3 a.m.

The restaurant is filled with bosses,
underbosses, thugs, and enforcers. Everyone is dressed in
sharp-looking suits, even the little guys.

The restaurant is fairly large, and tables
in the back are set up with white linen tablecloths, napkins, and
big goblets for wine. Candle centerpieces line the middle of each
table, the candles lit and casting a golden glow. The maître d’
shows us to a table

Mr. Furlotti greets us.
“Antonio! Vito! Welcome!
Mangia!
” He gestures with his hand to
sit and I tense up. He is being so nice to me, but I’m thinking
this guy is a rat. I put on my best façade.

“Thank you,” I say, watching his every
move.

Vito doesn’t even try for
nice, he doesn’t say anything.
Good
choice!

Pop and Donny come in with a few of the guys
from home. They are welcomed the same way and come to join us. Vito
and I stand while my father sits. It is the proper way to greet the
Boss if you are already seated before him.

The guys from home ask me how I’m doing. I
exchange pleasantries with them all while watching and waiting for
some shit to go down.

And then he arrives...

Fucking Asshole!
Vito is doing everything in his power to not shoot
out of the chair at Demetrius. The tension when their eyes meet is
thick and solid, not a trace of friendship in them.

Don Furlotti claps his hands. “Everyone
please be seated!” he calls out to those who are still standing
around talking.

Pop and Donny are completely emotionless.
They are masters at hiding their feelings and their temperaments
appear genial and friendly.

Pop taps my hand. “Don’t worry, Tonio.
You’ll get your chance.”

Pop has complete faith in me. He always has.
He trusts me, he confides in me, and gives me the freedom to become
what I need to be.

A thin waitress with long brown hair fills
each glass at our table with red wine. I think twice before
drinking it. She didn’t open the bottle at our table. Pop notices
too and halts her.

“Please bring new glasses. Open the bottles
at our table please,” he orders nicely.

“Yes, sir,” she says, and scurries away with
the open bottle.

Donny gets up and heads to the kitchen to
talk to the staff. It is common protocol that wine is opened at the
table and is checked by the head enforcer. It is tasted by the
senior person at the table to check its drinkability and
vintage.

The last thing I am is hungry. Rage fills my
stomach and adrenaline quenches my thirst.

Everyone is talking at their own table. A
waiter is bringing out the salad. A very flustered waitress comes
out with a tray of fresh glasses and an unopened bottle of Chianti.
Donny is behind her. He waves away the waiter with the salads and
says sternly, “No, thank you. She is the only one who serves
us.”

The waiter disappears to a new table. Donny
is going to watch everything that is prepared and served. The young
girl is such a mess that I feel sorry for her.

“Thank you,” I say as I stand and take the
bottle. “I can do this. Why don’t you get our salads?” She smiles
at me with relief and leaves with Donny for the kitchen.

I expertly insert the corkscrew into the
bottle and pop it open, letting it breathe for a minute. I then put
only a swallow in Pop’s glass. He swirls it around and sips.

He nods his head at me. “It’s good, Tonio.”
He holds out his glass for me to fill. Standing gives me an
opportunity to scan the room, but it also makes me an easy target
for a bullet. Vito holds his glass for me, and I fill his too. I
put the bottle on the table for the others to take what they want.
It is inappropriate for me to serve them.

Donny comes back and sits as the waitress
places the salads at each place setting. Her hands are shaking. A
grape tomato rolls off Vito’s plate and hits the floor. She sucks
in a scared breath.

“It’s okay,” he says to her.

The guys across the table engage us with
news from Palmetto, giving us info on Sommersville and some punks
they have had to put in their place. I am only half listening
because of the severity of the situation we are in.

After the salads, Don Furlotti makes a
toast. He stands and raises his glass. “To our new family. May we
have many happy years working together.”

My first reaction is to snort at his
declaration.

“This is a new era. Welcome!
Salute!” he says, and everyone clinks glasses and says,
salute
.

Demetrius looks in my direction and sneers
with his glass pointed at me and Pop. I give it right back, not
allowing him to rattle me.

Dinner is long and drawn
out. I push the food around on my plate. I am running out of
patience. Many
goombahs
and
cavones
come over to our table to speak to Pop. My father
is admired and respected. They shake his hand, make jokes, and are
generally happy to see him.

“When the fuck can we get out of here?” Vito
whispers to me.

I totally agree. We need to get out of here
and plan for meeting Demetrius tonight. “Soon,” I tell him.

We can’t leave before dessert; it would be
considered an insult, and I am not leaving my father and Donny here
with the wolves.

Finally, the waitress comes over to our
table with tiramisu. Pop gives her a hundred dollar bill and thanks
her for helping us this evening. She blushes deeply and slips the
money into her pocket. I make mush out of it with my fork, not
caring the least bit about eating. Dinner and dessert...and now it
is okay to leave.

We cautiously say our goodbyes, and I am on
edge, waiting for something to happen. I find it hard to believe
that this whole thing has gone down without a hitch or a gun
shot.

Outside is a cold Chicago winter night. The
wind is howling with the threat of snowfall. I press the remote for
the car to unlock the doors, doing my best to search the
surrounding area for danger. Pop had left a guy outside, Rawlo is
his name, I think. His job is to watch the vehicles and keep a look
out. The guy must be freezing.

My phone buzzes with a text
from Carlo.
What time?

I text back.
Leaving now.

*****

Carlo, Alex, and Joey are waiting for us in
the basement interrogation room of the casino. Carlo plays with a
deck of cards, fanning them professionally. Joey is leaning over a
map that is laid out on the table. I appreciate their loyalty and
efficiency.

Why is she here?
The words are forming on my lips when Patrick
walks in distracting us all. He is carrying a high-powered sniper
rifle. It’s a beauty.

“Before you flip out, this was my idea,”
Joey starts.

“What was your idea?” I ask, and then the
unpleasant realization dawns. “NO! No. Fucking. Way!”

“Hear us out.” Joey talks with his hands
like a true Italian. “She is an incredible shot! She will be far
away for the whole thing. I’ll stay with her. We’ll even suit her
up in bullet proof gear.”

“No! Absolutely not!” I shout.

I examine my beautiful Megan. She looks
petrified. Every time I see her, my heart softens in a way that is
not healthy for this type of business. She is one of the only
things in the world I care about.

Joey pleads his case. “She’s your ace in the
hole, Tonio. Her ability is going to give you the upper hand with
Demetrius.”

“You want her to fuckin’
kill someone?! You want that on her conscience?!” I smash my fist
against the table. “This isn’t her acting in self-defense. This is
placing her in an
assassination
nest!
”

“Can I finish?” Joey asks sarcastically.
“You only need her if things go bad. She will be far away. She
might not even have to do anything.”

I turn to Patrick for his
input. It’s his daughter - flesh and blood that he brought into the
world. He is his typical emotionless, stoic self.
Dammit!

“Can I say something?” Megan says quietly,
standing up. “Antonio, I want to do it. I can live with this. I
know I can.” I can tell her mind is made up. “What I can’t live
with is something happening to you, or anyone else, if I could have
stopped it or helped in some way,” she pleads with me
forcefully.

“No, you need to stay here on the family
floor. I won’t be able to concentrate.” I am adamant.

“You can’t keep me locked in a tower!” she
yells. “I have done everything you have asked of me. I’ve been
trapped for weeks, waiting for this nightmare to be over. I want to
get on with our lives. Please let me help.”

This is exactly what I didn't want to
happen. I never wanted Megan anywhere near this shit. No matter how
hard I try, my fucked up life follows and leads straight to Megan
whether I want it to or not.

I level my gaze at her. “I don't want this
for you. This is my burden to bear. I don't care if you think I
locked you in a tower, it's the only thing that gives me comfort.”
I suck in an angry breath. “Patrick, can I speak to you?”

We step out in the hall with everyone
staring after us.

“You know why I immersed us in a rundown
shabby hotel? So that I could keep the fight away from them!” I
spit out angrily.

“I don't want my daughter involved in this
anymore than you do, but, Antonio, clearly she has a talent that
rivals the best of them. She's clever, and she has instincts. I
will protect her.”

“This is
scumbati
! We shouldn’t even be having
this conversation.”

“If I thought she would be in any danger, I
wouldn’t even consider it. She will be far away,” Patrick
promises.