“This is our time,” Angelo said loftily. “We have wiped out the Bonifacios, proving to Chicago that we are no longer an underdog but the top dog. I’m counting on each of you to uphold this legacy.”
Romeo continued. “Tonight, we’re holding a dinner with all the mob leaders from the greater Chicago area.”
I could understand, then, why my father was acting the way he was. It rarely happened, once a year at the most. Tensions usually got high in the room, and sometimes even fights would break out. My father always made sure we had guns fixed under the table should we need them, but so far that hadn’t been necessary.
“And you never thought to share this with us earlier?” I said, turning to face Romeo.
Before he could answer, there was a knock on the front door and one of our men went to answer it. After a short exchange of words, they came in and walked toward the dining room. I counted seven of them. At the front was Dominic, head of the Romanos. He was followed by the Rossi boss, Luca.
Luca Rossi was older than my father and had been in the underworld since he left Sicily many years ago. His days as part of a mafioso went back further than any of us could remember.
Dominic was a simple man who always wore a well-tailored black suit. Luca, on the other hand, always wore a suit that looked as though it had walked out of the seventies. Even his paisley tie had been out of fashion for the past thirty years. His slicked-back hair always reminded me of those seventies’ films, as it looked as though it was coated with oil. We always made fun of him with our impressions of The Godfather as kids.
The other five consisted of the Giordanos, the Espositos, the Marinos, the Lastras, and the Costas. They each took a seat and looked at the three brothers before turning to our father.
Phillipa brought in a tray with 11 glasses and a decanter of bourbon. Each took a glass and the bourbon was passed around.
“Good evening,” Angelo began, after allowing everyone to take a sip. He liked to show off his good taste in whiskeys and looked around the table for expressions of admiration. “Thank you for coming. The reason I have asked you here tonight is for one reason. The Bonifacios are gone,finito, no more.” He gestured with his hands to make his point.
“Yeah, and I understand that you’re responsible for that,” Costas remarked with a smirk.
“My son, Romeo is responsible for that,” Angelo corrected, turning to Romeo.
“I took Bonifacio out because he murdered my brother Gianni. He deserved all he got.” Romeo said, taking a large gulp from his glass.
“You’re just a fucking kid,” Rossi said, “Bonifacio would not bite the hands that fed him. There’s no way he would’ve risked an alliance by shooting one of the Cavetti heirs. I mean, Gianni wasn’t even a threat to him.”
“It’s what happened,” Angelo said. “I was there.”
“I don’t care if the Queen of Sheba was there. I don’t believe any of this,” Rossi continued.
“I agree with Rossi,” Marino said.
“Yeah, me too,” Giordano added, crossing his arms in defiance.
“That’s your position?” Romeo asked, looking at each of them in turn.
“Yeah, that’s my position,” Rossi said, banging his glass on the table.
Marino and Giordano stared across the table at Romeo, stern-faced, nodding. The tension was mounting, I could feel it in the air. This was a stand-off and I knew it wasn’t going to end well.
I noticed my father signaling with his hand and Romeo moved with the swiftness of a hawk as he pulled his gun and shot. Without thinking I pulled a gun from under the table and fired off a round, as did Savio. It was over in seconds.
Three of them were shot dead. Their heads hung over the table, blood seeping from the bullet wounds in their skulls. Rossi, Marino, and Giordano, all gone.
The remaining four averted their eyes, knowing that they’d walked into the lion’s den. They were all prey at this point. Lastra pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away the blood that had spattered across his forehead, his eyes widening as he sat back in his chair and picked up his drink.
“You got balls, I’ll give you that,” he said as he raised his glass to Angelo.
A heavy silence followed as the bodies of the men slumped in their chairs. We were out to prove a point and we’d done just that. There was no doubt that the men in the Chicago underworld knew that we feared no one and nothing.
Our point had been made.
5
Chiara
Icould hear her cries from down the hall, and they seemed to resonate in the walls around me. Still, when Romeo had been taunting her, there was nothing I was able to do. It was infuriating. I wanted to take them all down, to destroy them for destroying my life. I didn’t want to hear Romeo’s voice any longer, I wanted to hear his screams. It was something I continuously daydreamed about, all while staring at the cement walls.
