Another pull on his cigar. Smoke swirling in his mouth. "And you took care of that fat rat for me, right?"
He’s talking about one of his business associates, Michael Apton, who Tony thought needed to speak to God, so he sent me. Tony doesn’t need to know how I took care of him, only that I did. And I sure as hell did. "Don't ask me questions you know the answers to already, Uncle Tone."
"Trust is big with me, Corrado. Big. I didn't trust that fat fucker at all. Every time he laughed, his jowls would wiggle in disturbing ways." He laughs out a puff of smoke. "But now, I got people sniffing around wondering where he went. That Patterson fuck, get rid of him, he needs an open-ended vacation somewhere. And your aunt wants you over for dinner. Don't piss her off. It'll give me a friggin' headache."
I shift back, walking to the door. "When?" I ask.
"Sometime today for Patterson. And your aunt is somewhere shining up her flabby ass at some spa in the city for the week. Costing me a fortune. So when she gets back."
"I'm on it," I say, walking backwards into the hallway. Turning your back to Tony is the same as signing your own death certificate.You just don't want to do it.
"Then come to the club after Patterson." He smiles, eyetooth catching on his top lip, making him look a touch more than sinister. "I want details, son." He starts scrawling a note on a legal pad on his desk, his informal dismissal.
I give him a Boy Scout salute and smile. I hear his laughter all the way to the front door.
The first thing I have to do is get to Patterson before anyone else does.
This is what I do. I’m a made man. Born and bred into this life, I had no choice. This is my family.
Being born into thisfamilyyou might think you could get out, become someone new, but your demons, those things that were bred into you, will always be just below the surface, and the minute you start to think you are good, human, kind, or respectable—those monsters just stick their claws deeper in and drag you back into the darkness.
* * *
I drivepast the little outdoor cafe right next to Patterson's office and there he is, sitting peacefully reading the paper. We still have nice enough weather to eat outside I guess, even though the leaves are turning and falling early this year.
Patterson is alone. When his eyes meet mine, he runs.
Pussy.
I hate when grown men make me chase after them.
With a sudden wind whipping through his hair, his lips draw back and his arms fling forward, pushing the table over in front of him. Coffee splatters into the air, pages of his newspaper flutter in the wind and the small glass table slams down across the cement, sprinkling glittery shards of glass all over. His hands flail around as he scrambles with his footing and ends up stumbling into the cafe. He sways for a second, pushing past a waitress holding a tray of dishes that crash hard to the ground.
I jump over the table easily and chase after him into the cafe. "Hey, Betty," I smile at the waitress, "sorry about that." I run past her, an arm’s reach from Patterson, but I don't grab him, not yet. I want to let him think he has a chance. "Can I get a coffee to go? I'll be like two seconds," I call out as we run into the kitchen.
Hope she remembers how I take my coffee.
Patterson is an older man in his late fifties, panting and wheezing. I guess he decides his best bet would be to stop me by grabbing plates of food and throwing them at me. Idiot. I’m definitely going to make him clean up this mess before I handle Tony's wishes.
"Get away from me, get away!" he screams, lunging down a handful of steps. Losing his footing, he crashes hard into the wall causing the framed photos that decorate the surface to fall to the ground. "Someone call the police! Please, please help me!"Idiot. This is one of Tony's businesses. Who the hell would call the police on me?
At the end of the hallway there’s a closed door. "Dead end, Patty." I smile to myself, anticipating how the chase will end.
He hurls all his weight against the door, smashing it open and wildly looking around for some sort of weapon to defend himself with.
Laughing, I across my arms and lean against the doorframe;the only exit out.
Patterson fumbles his hands through the desk in the office, flinging papers everywhere. A small screwdriver sits at the edge of the desk, under some of the papers, and he grabs it and holds it out in front of him. "Stay away, Corrado. Stay the fuck away!"
I pull out my gun, aiming it right at his head. "That'd be the stupidest thing you ever did, Patty."
He teeters for a moment, then drops the tool to the floor and holds his open hands up on either side of his head. "Fuck. Corey. Fuck. Why are you here? I didn't say shit. He knows I won't say shit! Corey. Listen to me. Listen!" A wet spot spreads across the front of his pants. The strong smell of ammonia thickens the air. Then the horrible stench of deep dark bodily fluid follows behind.
"Patty, did you just pissandshit yourself?" I’m honestly in shock.
"Don't kill me. Please. Please."
"What the hell do you feed yourself? That's the most foulest smelling shit I've ever smelt in my entire life."
