Nick says nothing further.
“Tonight I wanted to discuss our territories, and how far the Clemenzas are pushing into them,” I begin.
“How come we couldn’t meet at home?” Frank grumbles, as he does every time we assemble. “It’s cold as tits in here, Georgie.”
I don’t even look at him as I keep talking, keep laying out the same damn plan I’ve told them all three times by now. “We’re too vulnerable to push back,” I finish. “We need to consolidate where we are, not spread our resources even thinner. And by all means, keep recruiting. We need new blood. Just make sure they’re going to be useful, and loyal, and that they’re not rats. You hear me?”
They all nod and mumble and tell me that they’re hearing me, but they’re not. Not really. I understand why, even if I don’t like it. They’re still scared, still feeling out their new lives and roles since Tino Morelli, the glue holding the Morelli Family together, finally gave way.
But there’s no point justdemandingthe same respect Tino held. When an ancient Emperor died his heir would take up the burden of ruling Rome, expanding the empire, bringing the Pax Romana to the world. I intend to do the same—but first I need to build my army back up.
“Reports,” I say, and point at Al Vollero. Dutifully, they recount in turn what their crews have achieved, and then they bring forward their tributes: the lion’s share of what their crews have earned this month. Angelo steps forward to collect the packets.
I never touch the money. Not until it’s safely digital.
“That’s all. Go forth and multiply,” I tell them. None of them get the reference, except maybe Angelo, who I hear give the ghost of a huff beside me.
“But Boss, what about our cut?” Al whines.
My practice over the last few months has been to give back ten percent of the money to each Capo as a tip at our Friday meetings. It was something I did to demonstrate my generosity, to show them the benefits of sticking with the Morellis.
Withme.
I look over at Al Vollero. Now, and only now, does he shrink back from me. “You think you’ve earned your cut?”
His mouth opens and shuts, gulping for air like a fish on land.
“We’re done here,” I say to all of them, and they scurry away. It should make me feel better that they’re finally showing me some respect, but I can’t help thinking that next week they’ll be back bitching and moaning like they were today, because that’s what they’ve been doing every Monday and Friday since we started these meetings.
“I’m just saying,” Frank says, sauntering over and talking like we’ve had a whole conversation about it, “it’s cold enough to freeze the Devil’s balls in here. What’s wrong with your townhouse? Hell, we could meet up at me and Celia’s place and—”
“Use your head,” I snap. “You want those three stomping into your home every week like clockwork? Letting the Feds know exactly when they need to set up surveillance? Or tip off the Clemenzas about when to set the bomb to take us all out? Jesus, Frank.”
Frank’s mouth turns down and he looks at the ground.
I let out a slow breath, then put my hand on his shoulder. “I don’t want Finch in danger, so I don’t have them around at my place for these meetings. And Iknowyou don’t want Celia in danger, either. Especially not with the baby coming soon. Am I right?”
He shrugs.
If my brother wants to sulk, I can’t stop him.Get your head out of your assis on the tip of my tongue when my phone starts buzzing.
My new burner phone. The one I picked up yesterday, and whichNo Caller IDis now calling.
I answer and say nothing.
The voice that comes through is brusque, clear, professional. “Luciano D’Amato?”
“Who is this?”
“I’m calling on behalf of the Commission.”
I turn on my heel to walk away from Frank.
“You will attend a meeting with the Commission tomorrow,” the voice continues. “You’ll take a private jet, along with a maximum of four other men you might choose to take with you. We’ll send a car—”
“You think I’m just gonna get in some car that shows up on my doorstep? Take a private plane to who knows where? No.”
The man on the other end chuckles, and breaks his robot-speak. “You get in that car, bad things might happen. Youdon’tget in the car? Bad thingswillhappen. To you, and to that pretty little boy you’re playing house with. Now, where was I…”
