Page 33 of Bitter Poetry

I give Christian a nod as I pass him in the bar area where he is talking with Jero. It’s early, and the club is empty except for the cleaning crew, a man restocking the refrigerators, and a couple of guys who have a set of ladders out and are working on a rack of lights.

Taking the back stairs, I emerge at the entrance to his office. The soldier on duty opens the door and lets me in.

I take the seat opposite at Ettore’s indication. It’s internal, windowless, and dominated by his huge, leather-topped desk.

“Want a drink?” he asks. He has removed his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves.

Looks like he has been here for a while, possibly all night.

“I’m good, thanks,” I say. I had my mouth on his future wife’s pussy only yesterday. If I close my eyes, I can still imagine her taste on my lips. I’ve ridden roughshod over one of the sacred commandments. It adds an edge to being called to meethim here rather than his new home. While the house has a panic room, which could be used for interrogation were you so inclined, the rooms in the basement of this club are better suited to such a task.

“It was Carmela’s birthday yesterday.”

I feign indifference. “Yes, I did realize it must be one day soon. Did you have a pleasant evening?”

“No. I was dealing with Jimmy fucking Rizzo.”

I guess this explains his sudden disappearance yesterday… My eyebrows pull together at the mention of a capo. Ettore’s godson, no less. “What happened?”

He pushes a thick ledger across his desk toward me. I pick it up and look over the contents. It’s not long before the anomalies present themselves.

“Jimmy or someone in his employment has been skimming,” I say slowly. “By a significant amount.”

Ettore nods. “Him, his men; I suspect the rot runs deep.”

His dilemma is apparent. Jimmy is family to him, but he has broken another of the sacred commandments.

If Ettore knew what I’d done, he wouldn’t be fucking around with mind games. Yet what I’m hoping is a coincidental message is nevertheless delivered loud and clear.

I close the book. “You’re about to be named don. You already run things in Cedro’s stead, save for an official handover. I’m assuming you’re going to send a strong message.” I slide the ledger back onto his desk.

He sighs. “It’s been a long night. Fucking punk. His father is a good friend. He will be disappointed. But what am I to do? And no, I’m not looking for your advice on this. He’s downstairs praying for his life. Not that it will do him any good.”

He opens the cigar box on his desk and offers it to me. When I decline, he lights one up, inhaling deeply before blowing out a cloud of fragrant smoke.

“It would be damaging to you at this crucial time to allow him to live.” I state the obvious.

“He was a yappy kid. His father never disciplined him enough.” He shrugs as he considers the glowing end of his cigar. “But removing Jimmy leaves me with a problem and a vacant position. I’ve already had to shuffle some players to fill my role of underboss. That leaves me with no obvious successor given most of Jimmy’s direct reports will be joining him. I need you over there.”

“There? You want me to go through their books and give you an assessment?”

He takes another draw of the cigar and exhales another cloud of smoke. “No, I want you to take over.”

My brows pull together for the second time in as many minutes. “I fear I’m a little in the dark. I’m not part of the family, merely an advisor.”

“Your uncle made the transition. He was a good underboss. It’s in your blood. I need you as a capo. I’m giving you all Jimmy’s concerns.”

I’m scrambling. I feel a telltale trickle of sweat down the center of my back.

“This is unexpected.”

Jimmy’s patch is a two-hour drive out of the city. I’ve been there a few times reviewing the books, but not in a while.

Ettore is removing me from my position as consigliere and moving me out of the picture. If he knew what I had done with Carmela, I’d be sitting next to Jimmy in the basement. But he must have suspicions that I’m at least a little resentful he stole the woman Cedro promised to me.

He would be right.

I also believe, in some way, big or small, he had a hand in what happened to Cedro and the death of his wife.