“Pucker up, Silvio. Get used to it, because after what you tried to pull today, the only way I want to see your lips moving, is when they’re kissing Vincent’s ass,” I taunt, placing my hands behind my back, enjoying his blood-soaked humiliation.
The asshole doesn’t even look my way and heads out the door in haste.
“Ciao, leccaculo,” I yell behind him, laughing all the way.
“I wish you didn’t pester him so much,” Vincent adds, once Dominic closes the door behind him, leaving us alone to talk.
“Why? It’s the few perks I have. You have to admit, that shit was fun,” I confess, delighted with today’s events.
Vincent takes a cigarette out of his silver case, tapping the cancer stick on the table before lighting it up.
“Even if I was to agree, offending The Butcher doesn’t look good on me. You know as well as I do, the elders still respect him and give him too much credit. They might not have liked the way I just handled his defiance. Or the fact I proposed an open war with the Cosa Nostra,” he replies seriously.
“Fuck those ancient cunts!”
“Always so straight to the point, huh? Eloquent, as well,” Vincent snickers, taking another drag.
“What can I say? If you want someone to blow smoke up your ass with pretty words, I’m not your guy.” I chuckle.
“Don’t I know it.”
“I did notice, however, you didn’t talk about our friends across the border,” I question, intrigued.
“No, I did not.” He smirks, pleased.
And a little tug to my heart occurs, knowing this is as close as he ever gets to smiling these days. I put that thought to the back of my mind, not wanting to affect my own good mood.
“So, are you going to share with me why not?”
“Now, Gio, for all your cleverness, I’m sure you have an inkling as to why I would withhold such pertinent information,” he replies, making a cloud of smoke-filled rings rise above his head.
A wave of heartache fills me again, seeing how this is the only element Vince still gets joy from, and I wish the knowledge of such a sad state didn’t come to the forefront of my mind every so often.
“You don’t trust them to know,” I counter, trying hard to keep on track.
“See, that wasn’t so hard to figure out,” he answers amused, putting out his cigarette on the crystal ashtray in front of him.
“You think we got a rat in our midst?”
“Maybe not a rat, but I trust half the men at my table this afternoon as far as I can throw them. And I’m more wary of domestic enemies than foreign threats,” he warns solemnly.
“I know one you should never let your guard down with,” I promptly quip back.
“Yes. I don’t doubt it,” he huffs out, frustrated that I’m pointing out my dislike for his underboss for the millionth time.
“I really don’t trust the fucker,” I insist.
“So you’ve said. Repeatedly, I may add.”
“Still, no matter how many times I’ve told you I don’t trust him, you keep emboldening his every move,” I complain, exasperated.
“True,” Vincent replies nonchalantly.
“Why?”
“My uncle once told me that I don’t have to like all my syndicate brothers, just see how they best serve me with their set of skills. Ciro has an abundance of skills that other soldiers in the Outfit admire. As much as you dislike him, he’s proven to be one of the best underbosses the syndicate has ever had.”
“Don’t let my father hear you say that,” I scoff.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He smirks again.
“You know, some may even say he would do your job better, too,” I provoke.
“I’m sure you’re right. But hopefully, those who have such disloyal notions think twice before vocalizing them,” he summarizes menacingly.
“If they don’t, then I’m sure today’s little demonstration with Silvio might make them reconsider,” I joke.
“Hmm,” he mumbles.
It’s apparent that Vince is still concerned with how the older capos took such a reprimand on our former consigliere. I don’t doubt it is a cause for concern, but damn, was it worth it. For me at least. In Vincent’s case though, only time will tell if Bianchi’s punishment will blow up in his face. But right now, I just want to make sure Vince has more loyal allies than enemies.
“Answer me this, at least—if you know the threat Ciro is, why give him free reign to negotiate with New York on your behalf?”
“Isn’t it obvious? If Ciro is bound to betray me, then I would rather be from a direction I see coming.”
“So this is a trap?” I grin, ecstatic that the smooth talker hasn’t gotten his claws completely in my friend.
“You sound surprised?”
“Actually, color-me-fucking-impressed,” I beam.
“Glad you approve.” He chuckles softly and then grows serious, rehashing his well-laced plan out in the open.
“The Boston deal is done, and our Irish allies are just waiting for orders as to when we attack New York—a fact that only you and I know. While Ciro is there, thinking I’m just a state away, I’ll be, in fact, visiting our Calabrian brothers in Quebec. I’ll be arranging a new deal to use their casinos as a front to launder our money—a deal that will ensure we get millions in clean revenue a day, plus a little kickback from the income we can make loan sharking on their turf. For an added percentage, our Calabrian friends will be all too willing to support us when we take over the Cosa Nostra.”
“In other words, not only will the Cosa Nostra be blocked in from all sides, Silvio’s petty restaurants will look meager in comparison to the casinos,” I announce, in awe of Vincent’s elaborate scheme.
“Erasing him from our lives completely,” he mumbles in deep thought.
The Butcher will not take that change lightly and will act upon it. All Vincent needs is one traitorous act, just as he so poignantly warned a few minutes ago in front of all the Outfit’s heavy hitters—a shrewd remark done with cold calculation. And once the treason happens, and Bianchi is no longer a game player to the syndicate, his days are counted.
I wonder who Vincent will order to do the hit. Hopefully, it will be an affair where all three of us can participate. Sending the devil into his well-deserved fiery pit is not something I want to miss out on.
Yes. This day has taken a blessed turn indeed.
We grow quiet, as we both take in this beautiful future. But only a few minutes pass when I’m reminded of another statement Vincent made.
“Vincent?” I whisper, calling him back to the here and now.
“Yes?”
“Is that why you chose me to be your consigliere? Because of my skill set?”
I’m greeted with a meek half-smile as my answer.
“Let’s just say there are very few men courageous enough to defy me. You have never batted an eye at knocking me off my pedestal. And to do my work well, I need a friend who can tell me the truth, at all costs,” he announces with admiration in his gaze.