He hadn’t seen this girl before, but he knew her type. Tits up to her chin, skirt up to her hips, and hair in every shade of platinum. It was the species prototype for the girls who worked in Castillo’s bars. Most of them made themselves available to any member of the crime family and Bruno never understood that. All of them sassy little spitfires, eager to be used. They didn’t want a relationship any more than the boys did. They would just walk in and expect Bruno to have sex with them. Hell no. He couldn’t help but wonder how low a person had to sink to aspire to that. Then again, who was he to talk?
Bruno liked his women like his Annie who even now waited at their home for him. While Bruno was brash, confident, his woman was quiet, almost shy. Sweet, easy-going, and low maintenance. His Annie was off limits and no one in the crime family or outside of it hit-on her. Hell, they wanted to. But they wouldn’t fucking dare.
Charlie, however, well, Bruno had no idea how many of the mob’s women he’d had between the sheets, in the back of his car, in the drink cellar. There was no stopping his brother when he wanted something, chicks with watermelon tits were no exception. Needless to say, Castillo’s guys didn’t much like that. And Bruno had warned them, anything happens to Charlie and they’re all dead. It was strange. Charlie was one of the nicest guys Bruno had ever met, yet he was the worst with women. The fucker!
Bruno finished his cigarette and ground it out into an ashtray when the door opened and his brother crossed the threshold.
Charlie hated the mob clubs, but it was early, so he knew the place wouldn’t be busy. Opening the door, he paused slightly in the doorway, his eyes perhaps adjusting to the change in light. His suit was high quality, and his shoes gleamed as he marched towards his brother. The jukebox was playing softly against the quiet chatter of the girls who worked there. The place was dingy, and oh so very ordinary. The single redeeming feature, it was empty. Except for Roberto at the bar at the back of the room, a local, who had long drowned out the death of his wife in beer, was having his first of the day.
Bruno motioned for Charlie to come over.
By the time he reached the table, Bruno already had a whiskey waiting for him. Although the two men might have taken different paths, there was a profound respect between them. They both wanted the same things. Money. Power. Notoriety. Neither of them was known to ever take a day off sick, or leave work early for anything. Not when there was work to be done.
Swinging into the seat opposite, Charlie checked his watch. “I don’t have long. You know what my schedule is like on a weekday.”
Bruno raised his glass to the man in front of him and waited for Charlie to do the same before he thanked his brother for coming.
Charlie threw back half the glass full in one hit and held his eyes closed for a second as he swallowed the strong liquor. Wincing slightly, his eyes pinged open. “Now tell me why I’m really here, Bruno? It wouldn’t have something to do with what happened to Bobby, would it?”
A tense sigh slipped out of Bruno’s mouth. “Listen, things are getting crazy. Real fucking crazy.” He dropped his voice to a confidential whisper. “The boss, he fucking broke down in my arms yesterday!” Shaking his head, he brought his glass to his lips and tipped the entire contents down his throat like it was water. He nodded at the waitress again, to order a second round.
“It’s understandable under the circumstances.” Charlie shrugged. He opened his mouth to speak again.
Before he could, Bruno interrupted, “Not in our world it’s not. Life fucking sucks. Shit happens. The worst thing a man can do? Show the world his weakness.”
Polishing off the rest of his drink, Charlie leaned closer. “It doesn’t make sense to me, the whole business of the boy’s murder. Even if I were Castillo’s enemy, there’s a hell of a lot of people I’d like to blow the brains out of before I’d be gunning for that cuddly little fawn, god rest his soul.”
Bruno nodded.
“You know who killed him yet?
Bruno huffed. “I don’t. What I do know is, the man who shot him knew it was the only way he could get to Castillo. And it worked, the man’s weak. Emotional. Vulnerable. Whoever did it, now has the upper hand.”
Charlie’s head fell and rose again in a slow thoughtful nod. “You could be right about that. So back to my original question, why am I here? You need to get out?”
Bruno’s eyes narrowed on his brother as he leaned forward across the table. Charlie had been plotting ways for his brother to escape the mob since he’d sold his life and soul to that life nearly five months back. Hell-bent on ridding the De Luca family from the mob once and for all. It didn’t sit well with his brother ? lounging in his pretty accountancy office five hundred feet in the sky, while Bruno took chances on his life every day on the streets. “Fuck no. Are you kidding?” he argued, his voice simmering with pent-up frustration.
Charlie raised both hands and sat back. “Alright, alright. I’d be a fool not to try, wouldn’t I?”
Both men locked eyes, Bruno’s fierce and stubborn gaze on Charlie’s frustrated stare.
The gentle patter of high heels approached steadily from the bar and the two men looked up. In his periphery, Bruno saw Charlie smile and puff out his chest when his eyes hit the dolly faced waitress approaching their table.
Balancing a black tray on the palm of her hand, which carried their two drinks, she then set it down. “Here you go, fellas,” she sang.
Bruno reached out a hand to receive his drink when suddenly, the girl dropped the tray, and before anyone could react there was the high pitched chink of smashing glass on the floor.
Then suddenly, the young woman stood there with shock on her face. Unmoving, as if frozen in time. She paled as she stared at Charlie. She backed away, keeping her eyes on him. Swiftly, she turned on her heels and bolted for the back door behind the bar.
A shiver of revulsion ran down Bruno’s spine. Turning his head to his brother, he asked, “I take it you know this girl?”
Charlie covered his mouth with one hand, rubbing a palm over his clean-shaven chin.
When Charlie offered no answer Bruno leaned in close. “I don’t know what you’ve done to hurt this woman you filthy pig!” he sneered. He loved his brother, but he had a zero tolerance policy on the mistreatment of women.
“Shit Bruno, take a fucking chill pill.”
“I’ll calm the hell down when you answer my fucking question.”
