We go into an adjoining room, with the same floor-to-ceiling windows as the rest of the penthouse, and a horizon-grazing view of the other side of the city and beyond—Red Rock Canyon, Sonny tells me. From the satisfied look on his face, I’m guessing it’s his preferred problem-dumping ground.
There are only nine of us here tonight, all Bosses, excluding Finch. He’s the only attendee who isn’t initiated Family, but it doesn't seem to matter to the rest of them. Finch is a Morelli by marriage, and that’s good enough for them. It’s a palate-cleanser after the Commission’s attitude.
Our appetizer is already set out on the table, and the rest of the meal is served buffet-style at the end of the room, so we don't have to worry about staff coming in and out. Sonny has seated me as the guest of honor at the foot of the table with Finch to my left. He takes the head, and the rest of the men choose their seats randomly.
Before we begin, Sonny stands up to raise a glass to me. “On behalf of all of us here on the West Coast, I'd like to welcome Don Luciano Morelli to our company, and of course, his charming husband. Here, you’re among friends, and we all welcome you.” There's a murmuring around the table, as everyone agrees.
“To a profitable business partnership,” Sonny says, and I raise my glass back, and repeat his words.
Finch has taught me a lot about showing the right kind of respect at the right time. So after Sonny sits down, I make my own toast. “I’d like to thank you, Sonny, and let you know that we haven't had such a relaxing time since our first honeymoon. I think Finch would agree with me when I say that this one is much more fun.” Finch makes a noise of vigorous agreement, and there are laughs around the table.
“Nowhere like Vegas,” one of the men contributes.
“I'd also like to thank all of you,” I add, looking around the table, “for coming tonight from near and far. Finch and I are here in a spirit of collaboration. We hope to find commonalities, ways to help you, ways to cooperate. A rising tide lifts all boats.”
I've heard Tino Morelli say that phrase more than once in my life, and I finally understand exactly what it means. The agreement andhear, hearsfollowing my speech are just as enthusiastic as those given to Sonny’s. I've said the right things.
Maybe I even mean them.
Over the appetizer, we continue to exchange small talk, although it's now about our business problems, the challenges and obstacles in each region. As I look around the table, it strikes me that the men here, like me, are still in their first half of life. I'm beginning to understand what Sonny Vegas meant bygenerational motherfucking change.
Once the main meal is done and we’re all tucking into a baked Alaska, we get down to serious talk.
“The problem is, every time I want to undercut a competitor, I have to run it by the Commission,” complains the Seattle guy. “Only they don't understand how it works out here. They act like they don't want to cause trouble, but the truth is, they just want to make sure we never earn as much as they do. I don't see anything wrong in partnering with the Canadians, but they act like the world will end if I do.”
“You know,” Sonny says, waving his spoon around the table. “Our guest of honor here said something interesting to me the first day he arrived. He said, why don't we just make our own Commission to serve the needs of our businesses out West. The problem is, the East Coast has us over a barrel, and they know it. They like to hand out crumbs now and then to keep us happy, but we all know if they wanted to, they could be a lot more helpful than they have been. It’s why I invited our new friends out here. If we stick together,votetogether, we can maybe see some change.”
“I think everyone here knows the troubles I've had with the Commission,” I say. “And you all know they don't want to break with their traditions. They were always going to find a reason to keep me out. So I'm here looking to make new alliances that will help us all prosper. The Morelli family may be smaller than we've ever been, but we're also twice as wealthy, thanks to my husband.” I glance at Finch, who gives me his most seductive rich-kid smile, then sends it around the table.
By the time Finch and I return to our room, I'm feeling much more hopeful about the future of the Morelli family.
“I don't know if I trust them,” Finch says quietly when we are lying in bed together.
“I definitely don’t trust them. But like I told you, angel, we don't have to. We only need their help with the Commission.”
“And if they don't fulfill their promises?”
I roll over on top of him, pushing him down into the bed, and press my lips to his ear. “Then I will personally take care of every last one of them. Anyway, they don't know about Tara; she’s our trump card.”
I try to capture his mouth then, but Finch is shaking his head in concern. “That only works if Tara can gain control of the Donovan family, and there's absolutely no guarantee that she will.”
“We’ll find out when she gets here. “
“I'm just saying, I hope you have a backup plan.”
“Always, baby bird.”
The problem is, in this instance?
I don’t.
Our options are limited. Our alliances here are tenuous at best. We have a lot of money, but loyalty bought can always be outbid by higher prices.
All I can hope is that Tara, when we meet her tomorrow, has good news.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Finch
