Luca
“Ijust don’t see why I can’t be UnderbossandEnforcer,” Frank grumbles. “I mean, I sent my wife and kid away, the least you can do is make itworthwhilefor me.”
“You realize there’s no fucking pay raise attached with a new title, right?” I snap back. I’m at his house waiting for him to get his ass in gear. We’re due to meet with my Capos in half an hour, and I like to be late, but not so much that they think I’ve been killed or some shit.
Angelo is waiting outside in the car. I’m beginning to regret offering Frank a lift at all.
“I think you’d be a great Underboss, Mr. Frank,” Hudson says, coming into the room and taking a seat next to me at the kitchen counter.
“Thanks, kid. See, Georgie? Hudson knows what’s up.”
“Hudson should not be listening at doors,” I correct him, and I give the kid a look that makes him squirm.
“I wasn’t, Boss,” he pleads. “I swear I just heard now when I came in.”
“Jesus, calm down,” Frank sighs. “Georgie ain’tyourBoss. And he ain’t gonna kill you in my fucking kitchen.”
I give Hudson a shrug that means, maybe I will, maybe I won't. He goes pale.
“Frank, what's the holdup? If we wait any longer, I'll have been replaced by the time we get there.”
“I can't find my phone,” he complains. “Celia always knows where everything is, and now she's not here, I can't find anything.”
“It's here, on the counter top,” Hudson says, holding it up.
“Thanks, kid. Okay, I'm ready to go. Wait—where the hell are my house keys?”
I consider Hudson, taking in his messy hair and red eyes, which I assume are from tears rather than drugs, because Frank—or rather, Celia—keeps a clean house these days. And I consider the fact that Hudson is still here with Frank, and he still hasn't run away, and he still hasn’t said a word about the baby as far as I know.
It's not uncommon for young men to decide they want to associate themselves with the Family.
I was the same, once, but there were plenty who failed along the way, who balked at what they were told to do, or who just disappeared without a trace. For a while I thought the Family had “disappeared” them, but once I got in myself, I learned most failed members just took themselves off to different cities, having scared themselves shitless in their attempts to join.
The Family is a certain kind of lifestyle that you either suit or you don't. In other words, it’s one thing to talk about killing a man, but it's another to do it.
“You've been running with Frank this week?” I ask Hudson.
I don't think his eyes can get any wider, but he nods in response.
“Kid’s been real helpful,” Frank comments over his shoulder. “Where thefuckare my keys?”
“Yeah?” I turn on my barstool to give Hudson my full attention, and he sits up straight and tries to play confident. “Tell me what you've been doing.”
To hear Hudson tell it, he's been solely responsible for convincing ten new businesses to pick up our protection insurance. I look over to Frank, who gives me a shrug and a half smile. “Okay, kid,” I break in eventually. “So you can put the pressure on. What happens when they put the pressure back on you?”
“I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty,” he insists. “I just need a chance to show you what I can do, Don Morelli.”
Right at that moment, my phone starts beeping and buzzing. I glance at the message and turn away from Frank and Hudson, trying to school my face.
I call Angelo right away, and as I wait for him to answer, I click my fingers at Hudson. “Looks like you're gonna get your chance right now, kid,” I say. “Angelo? Finch hit his SOS alarm. We’re coming down. Straight to the church, and fuck the traffic.”
I might sound cool on the outside, but my heart is beating wildly.
How much trouble can he possibly be getting into at achurch?
And then one brief text comes through from Marco:
Fuscone.
