Authors: Bethany-Kris
Antony sucked in a harsh breath. “Maybe if I didn’t have to worry about the way you do your own thing, I could be okay with believing you when you say you’re fine and I would leave you alone. I keep asking you what you need to get you to a better place, but you never seem to have an answer for me. What do you need, Gio?”
Biting back his anger, Gio said, “You talk like I’m crawling around on rock bottom here.”
“Are you?” Antony asked quietly.
“No!”
“Then why do I feel like calling that rehab facility in Mexico on a daily basis, Gio? Why does your mother keep demanding I force your hand?”
Gio’s brow furrowed. “Mexico?”
“There’s a facility down there. Their methods are … not acceptable in the States. Which is why they’re located in Mexico where the laws are less stringent.”
“
Cristo
!”
“Not like that,” Antony muttered under his breath. “I wouldn’t put you in a place where your safety was in jeopardy.”
“You won’t fucking
put me
anywhere at all!” Gio barked back.
Antony cleared his throat, shrugging. “That’s the method I mentioned. You don’t get a choice. You wouldn’t have any warning. I wouldn’t need to worry about the politics of laws regarding having you admitted into a program. You go in fighting or calm, but one way or another, you go and you will stay. You get clean and healthy whether it takes you six months or two years. And they send you back home. Simple.”
Why did that feel like a threat?
The rage and disbelief simmering through Gio made his hands shake. “I’m not some out of control addict because I like to party and have a good time. I handle myself just fine.”
“So you
function
. Congratulations, Gio. Many do.”
“This is fucking ridiculous.”
“I didn’t say I had made a call about it, yet.”
Again with the veiled threats.
“Don’t play these word games with me, Dad. Say what you need to say and be done with it.”
“Give me an honest discussion for once, Gio. Something I can maybe work with. If it starts affecting the business—”
“I’m
fine
. Just because you feel like you fucked up somewhere along the lines, don’t toss that to me. What do you want to be, my father or my Don? I’m over the whiplash, Antony.”
Antony’s fingers gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned stark white. “You’re a damn good capo, Gio.”
“Thanks for the memo I didn’t need.”
“But you haven’t been a good son in a long time.”
Ouch.
“The meeting with the Commission is next week. I need you to make it through that without problems, Gio. I can’t have people seeing cracks in my family’s foundation. I’m done playing games. You want me to make a choice, then I will. You want me to treat you like I do everyone else, then I'll do that. Be there with your brother and be sober.
“And do not fuck it up or Mexico will be the last thing you’ll be worrying about,” Antony finished before starting the car. “Is that clear enough, Giovanni?”
Gio thought so.
“Like crystal.”
“And this,” Dante stood, his red pointer circling the entire shipping district of New York, “… will, of course, remain ours.”
“Of course,” came a distinctly annoyed reply from Gio’s left.
“Are you taking issue with territory that has always been mine because I work it better than you, will continue to do so, and have contacts that keep the officials out of it?” Antony asked, turning to stare down a fellow Don. “Because if you are, we can re-discuss the forty blocks of streets I handed over last year out of fairness and the goodness of my very black heart.”
The boss to Gio’s left coughed an uncomfortable noise. “Keep the shipping district, Antony. I’m just saying, you’re bleeding some of the smaller families dry making them pay out of their asses to work on your territory when needed.”
“That’s the life,” Antony replied uncaringly. “If they can’t keep up or figure out a better way to work, that’s not my problem. I take no issue with removing them in this much cleaner way. Even if it does take a little bit longer. I will gladly take over Arturo’s capos and his streets when he finally succumbs to the inevitable.”
“I didn’t say it was Art—”
“Please don’t treat me like an idiot, Carl. I’m not one of your sons. I know exactly who you’re speaking for. I just don’t give a good goddamn. If he wants to succeed, then he needs to work for it.”
Gio suppressed his smile at his father’s tone. It was a mixture of don’t-fuck-with-me and I-will-ruin-you. That was Antony’s usual attitude when it came to Commission meetings. There hadn’t been a boss of bosses in decades as far as Gio knew, but his father came pretty damn close to it. Being the dominating family gave the Marcellos that advantage.
A meeting of the Commission was a delicate and cautiously planned event. It was no easy feat to get the major six North American crime bosses in the same room with their chosen associates without the officials finding out. The location was carefully chosen to assure there were no wires or taps, and those who could, flew into the city privately. Those who did come in from outside the city checked into hotels using fake names and kept a low profile.
It was an art to make it work and keep it confidential.
The Commission was comprised of six bosses. All brought along at least one man, although some brought along two or three. It was expected for the bosses to discuss issues that had arisen over the past year and new dealings. If they were invited along, the consiglieres and underbosses would speak with and for their bosses, as well. It was not in any way acceptable for a capo like Gio to address anyone for business discussions unless his opinion was asked for or he was specifically directed to speak.
Out of the six bosses, five were Dons for their Cosa Nostra families, and one was only considered a leader of his own. The Chicago Outfit never fully accepted the rules and beliefs of La Cosa Nostra, even with their mostly Italian heritage. The leader was a good voice for the small syndicates working around and through him, so his seat on the Commission was a given.
The Guzzi family came from Ontario, Canada. The boss of that sector always sat to the end of the table with his consigliere and spoke very little unless he needed something directly from someone else, which was rare. He was the easiest to deal with out of the six, frankly.
There were the three major families from New York, including the Calabrese family, the Donati family, and the Marcellos. They took one entire side of the table for themselves. The three families learned to work together or face the consequences of a bloody inner-city war between them. There were a few smaller families working inside and around each large family—always paying dues—so whoever's territory they fell under, that major family held their voice.
Every year at the meeting of the Commission, they sat down to redraw territory lines on a map of New York. The lines rarely changed, but occasionally it was needed to simply make a point. It was always a good reminder of which family held the most territory, too—the Marcellos.
Then, there was the one major Vegas family who sat across from the Marcellos with the Chicago Outfit helping to fill up their side.
Maximo Sorrento, or Max as he preferred, sat across from Gio’s father at the large table. The Sorrento Cosa Nostra was the third largest Italian crime family in North America. Maximo more than earned his seat on the Commission.
Maximo was a good fucking boss. He ran his family hard with no questions asked and no excuses accepted. Gio would be ridiculous if he didn’t recognize all the good Maximo was when it came to being a Don for his family.
There was only one thing Gio disliked about the Sorrento family. Or rather, one person. Maximo’s only son.
“
Come stai
, Gio?” Franco asked.
Gio’s jaw twitched at his name coming out of that bastard’s mouth. “
Bene
. You?”
Politeness was a learned trait Gio’s mother had beaten into all of her sons, and he hated that this was one of those times when he had to be nice. There were too many important Mafioso there for Gio to tell Franco to fuck off.
“Not too bad. The last few months have been interesting. Certainly active, anyway. I can’t say I’m particularly bored. Sorry I missed Lucian’s wedding. I heard it was … large.”
“It was,” Gio replied.
Dante sat beside Gio in silence. No doubt his older brother was as tense as a board and ready to snap like a live wire if needed. History was a great predictor of future outcomes. If history had anything to say about the past interactions between Gio and Franco … this would not end well.
Franco Sorrento was a prick in the worst way. Entitled. Spoiled. Favored. Whatever someone wanted to call it, the man was it. Maybe Gio could handle his attitude if Franco would at least attempt to hide it sometimes. The guy tossed around his weight like he had a leg to stand on. Franco assumed his father’s history and more than deserved respect afforded him some leeway.
It didn’t
.
That shit was earned. Franco had not earned his.
Gio was five seconds away from reminding the asshole of that.
Franco also had a bad habit of running his mouth to people he had absolutely no control over. In his own damn family that shit might fly, but it didn’t when it came to someone else’s. That behavior had been going on for as long as Gio could remember, though.
Big time in Vegas didn’t mean a whole hell of a lot in New York.
It was unfortunate Antony was as good of friends with Maximo as he was, because Franco was in serious need of being knocked down a peg or two ... or maybe off his pedestal altogether. Gio would gladly be the one to do that.
“Stop acting like you’re going to jump out of your chair,” Dante hissed at Gio when Franco turned to listen to his own father speak. “Calm down, man.”
Gio’s dislike of the man across the table wasn’t a big secret.
“It’s a good deal,” Maximo told Antony. “Something new I’ve been trying, anyway. Your family dominates, so it’s only proper I offer you the chance to work it with me.”
“I’ll think about it,” Antony replied. “Feels small-time, though. You know how I don’t dabble in nonsense like that. Little pay for a lot of work. I’d have to situate someone in Vegas for a while. I don’t know who I’d be willing to send down there, never mind how that would work with them being on your territory.”
“But it grows fast,” Maximo said with a grin. “And we’d work out the rest of the little stuff like we always do.”
“I’d try it. Or at the very least, send someone down to scope it out for a month or two and see how it’s working,” Paulie, Antony’s consigliere, told his boss. “If nothing else, only watching before putting cash in means there are no losses for us.”
What in the fuck were they talking about again?
Gio had been so focused on keeping his cool around Franco that he forgot to pay attention to the people speaking. Clearly they’d moved on from New York’s territory lines and onto business dealings. Shit.
“Gio’s got some stakes in a few smaller casinos down there. Don’t you, man?” Dante asked.
Gio didn’t want his name being put into something he didn’t know about. And Vegas did not sound like fun at the moment. “What?”
“Chin up, Gio. You’re dropping the ball,” Franco said, a sneer playing at the corner of his lips.
Fuck off
. Gio barely managed to keep those words inside his head and not flying out of his mouth. If looks could kill, Franco’s head would have made a nice piece of conceptual art on the wall behind him.
Gio always did appreciate good art.
Staring down Franco, Gio said, “Four casinos. And it’s mostly small shares. Nothing huge. Certainly not big enough to get me a say in anything.
”
“You still have business down there, though,” Antony said. “It could be to your benefit to spend time in Vegas.”
“Why would I want to go to Vegas?” Gio asked. “I’d lose a lot of cash here if I spent even a month out of the city.”
“Lucian would be better if you’re thinking of sending a capo you trust,” Franco put in. “He has a better taste for imported cars. He understands the worth and appreciates the value. Gio is still living small. Too bad, I thought he would have caught up with his brothers by now.”
Gio glared across the table. Bullshit shots like that were why he despised Franco. The idiot had absolutely no idea why Gio chose to live his life the way he did. There was no competition between the Marcello brothers personally or in business.
Before Gio could tell Franco where to stick his fucking opinion, Antony said, “Lucian has only been married three months. I’m not sending him away from his new bride right now. He works hard and deserves some slack every once in a while.”
“I agree,” Maximo said. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you that my wife adored the wedding, by the way. We had to leave that night. Unfortunately, I can’t leave things unsupervised at home for long.”
Gio smirked, snorting under his breath at the sight of Maximo giving his son a pointed look. Obviously the youngest Marcello wasn’t the only one with issues at the table. Franco wasn’t pleasing his father. That was never a good thing in Franco’s world.
It wasn’t long before the men’s conversations turned back to the business side of things. Gio tried to keep his attention focused on the matters at hand, but his boredom quickly caught up with him again and he zoned out.
“Nah, the Caymans are by far the best for hiding money offshore.”
“I agree,” Dante said. “Less cost when it’s pillowed back over into a legitimate account. They make it too easy for you not to like them as a first choice. Honestly, they don’t give a shit where the money comes from so long as they get paid to hold it.”
Gio sighed, wishing he could leave. While the biggest issues were handled first at the Commission meeting, the smaller ones which weren’t really problems that needed attention at all, could take forever.
Another conversation caught his attention, but barely.
“Maybe,” Antony said, sounding almost bored himself. “I will consider it, Maximo. Franco had a point about Lucian having a better respect for those makes of vehicles, but Gio could use some time away from the city.”
Oh, fuck
no
.
Gio forced himself to be quiet.
“Speaking of taking some time away from the city,” Maximo said, excitement lacing his tone. “What are you doing in a few months, old friend?”
“Hard to say,” Antony replied. “If something is important enough, I could clear a few things. It couldn’t be for long, of course.”
“What about a wedding? Is that important enough for you?”
Antony chuckled. “Who’s taking that plunge?”
“My Franco,” Maximo informed.
Franco didn’t seem to pay his father any mind as Max discussed the upcoming nuptials. It was as if the topic didn’t interest him at all, or just wasn’t important enough to get on his radar. The wedding would be an important event for the Sorrento family. About as big as Lucian’s had been for the Marcellos, but for entirely different reasons. Lucian was the first from the Marcello family to be married, while Franco was the only child of his father.
It didn’t matter. Gio couldn’t wrap his head around the idea
.
Who in the hell would marry that asshole? It wasn’t like Gio was a saint, but Franco topped the cake with womanizing. Gio heard the stories passed down the grapevine of how Franco treated women. The guy could be a little heavy handed. Gio felt bad for the woman who got caught up in that mess.
“Who’s the lucky girl?” Antony asked.
Gio didn’t know how he managed not to scoff.
Lucky
. Sure.
“I don’t know if you’ve met her personally or not,” Maximo responded. “I began giving Franco a little more leeway with some of the family businesses, and that’s how he stumbled across the young lady. I know you’re not fond of the family, but it’s Nunz Abella’s daughter, actually.”
Gio heard his father’s teeth crunch from two seats away. If there was anything that could get Antony’s anger from zero to sixty, it was Nunz’s name.
“Don’t take it personally if I refuse the invitation, Max. You know how I feel about that man.”