“Pronto? Kind of late to be calling, don’t you think?” I answer, annoyed.
“Or early. It all depends on your perspective,” I hear him goad me on the other end of the line.
“Just tell me things are up to par up there. I could use a little good news,” I huff out, closing my eyes while pinching my brow to lessen my current headache. I lean my head back on the headrest; my body slumps, relieved at the small moment of rest. My aching, burdened shoulders—a sign of my true exhaustion—yearn for the hot, waterfall shower I promised them.
“Aww. Who’s getting the big, bad mob boss down?” Gio continues to taunt childishly, his contagious laugh ringing out, always a reminder of youthful, carefree times.
“Give you one guess,” I reply, frustrated.
“Don’t think I need it. It can only be those fucking old cowards. Remind me again why we can’t just put a bullet in them and be done with it?” he growls, irritated that I don’t follow his counsel on this particular matter.
“Our code won’t allow such savagery. If I start killing off capos on a whim, then I’ll lose the trust I have with the ones I leave standing. No made man will feel secure in their role thinking I might kill them off just because they share a different opinion than mine. That’s not how we do things.”
“Whatever. Just seems like too much of a hassle to keep those dicks at the table. They smile with their hands out when they get their cut, but then turn around and bitch about how they got it in the first place. I say, let Dom pay them each a visit and show them some manners, that’s all,” Gio informs impassively.
“I’m starting to miss the days when you were a pacifist,” I interject gravely.
“Yeah, well, we all had to grow up sometime, right?” he quips back unremorseful.
“Hmm.”
“Anyway, talking about those dipshits is not why I called. I wanted to let you know that everything is fucking amazing here. Just visited the third casino tonight and am starting to think that living in Canada has some major rewards. If any Fed were to look at their books, even with a fine-toothed comb, they’d find nothing. Calabrians sure know their shit,” he informs me enthusiastically.
Last fall, after Anna Maria’s funeral, I went to meet up with the Calabrians. We formed this alliance as I felt it in my bones that it would greatly benefit the Outfit. Giovanni confirming my suspicions is just the boost I needed to hear tonight.
“Good to know. Stay there another week or so to make sure everything is on the up and up, and when you return we can inform Bianchi his laundromat services are no longer needed. That little pinch in his pocket should inspire him to be more creative in getting his power back.” I smirk, thinking of how close I am to ending The Butcher.
Joyful days in my life have been seldom and far between, but the day I finally get to kill Silvio Bianchi will make up for every missed opportunity. The amusement I expect from Gio falls short of my expectations when he only offers a small, timid chuckle as his reply. The minute he opens his mouth though, I understand why.
“Vince, there’s still one more piece of business we have to talk about. Antoine wants to know if you’ve given more thought on his proposal. If you might have had a change of heart, maybe,” Giovanni mutters cautiously, knowing exactly how I feel about the offer made by the Calabrian boss.
“She’s cute, you know? Maybe a little too demure for your taste, but hey, she’s French-Canadian, right? I’m sure she has to have some fire in her veins,” Gio continues on, and I’m two seconds away from hanging up the phone on my best friend.
“I said no when Antoine suggested marriage, and my answer remains the same,” I counter unemotionally.
“You know, marrying Antoine’s daughter might get those old farts off your back. You know as well as I do, they don’t look too favorably on your single status as a boss. She’s a highborn principessa and marrying her could be advantageous to the Outfit.”
“I said no, Giovanni! I think I’ve sacrificed enough for the Outfit, don’t you?” I howl, infuriated he’s insisting on this farce.
“Fine, asshole. You don’t want to marry her, knock yourself out, but at least get laid already. I mean, when was the last time you got your dick wet, for crying out loud? Poor bastard has probably shriveled up and died with your lack of action,” Gio grunts, aggravated.
“You do know that fucking isn’t the answer to every problem, don’t you?” I deflect, uncertain how this conversation got so sidetracked.
“There was a time you felt differently,” he counters, smugly.
“Things change.” I shrug.
“Yes, they do. Never thought I’d be the one telling you it’s time to move on. Your love life is depressing the hell out of me.”
“I’d rather you keep yourself focused on business instead of my absent love life,” I deadpan, completely done with his poor choice of topic at five in the morning.
“I just worry about you, Vince. Living all alone in that empty house in the godforsaken woods, secluding yourself from everyone. It isn’t healthy,” he cautions apprehensively, showing his true cause of concern.
I let out a long breath, knowing nothing I say will ease his mind. Still, I try regardless.
“I like the quiet. And besides, I have you if I ever need some noise in my life. You’re loud enough for both of us,” I mock back, finally gaining a true chuckle from my best friend.
“True. You would be a shut-in if it weren’t for me.”
“Let’s not overreact,” I smirk at the presumptuous bastard.
The line goes awfully quiet, and I feel it in my gut that Giovanni is about to delve into uncharted, fragile territory if I let this phone call persist any longer.
“I got to go,” I announce, my skin already itching to cut this call short before it destroys any peaceful rest I still hope to have this night.
“Okay,” I hear him mumble, “but Vince?”
“Yeah?”
“You do have me, brother. Always.”
I let his caring words reach my imprisoned heart, and let it touch its iron bars, if only for a second before its steel reminds me why it’s locked up in the first place.
“Ciao, Giovanni. I’ll call you later in the week for more updates,” I reply coldly before hanging up the phone, putting an end to my anxiety.
I get out of the car, wanting that stiff drink even more after such a conversation. I look at my empty house surrounded by the foreboding forest growth, with nothing but black shadows and unlit rooms to welcome me, and I wonder if Giovanni isn’t right on this one. Maybe I should move into one of the apartments in the city. It would simplify my life immensely just by eliminating the hour-long commute. And I’m sure the men who guard the property twenty-four-seven, would also appreciate a reprieve from the cold, somber residence.
But I wasn’t lying to Gio when I told him I liked the quiet my safe haven offered me. It’s one of the few places I can go each day that holds no lingering memory of anything that haunts me. I can breathe within these empty walls. I can close my eyes and dream of nothing at all. There is a certain peace in being alone. There are no witnesses to see how numb I am.