“Noooo!” he squawks.
“Fine. Boys, then. I don’t judge. Just as long as you get some, huh?” I feel my grin broadening.
“Zio Raoul!” my nephew shrieks.
“Dammit, Raoul!” My brother seems to have taken over the phone again. “I will not have you encouraging my son to start that shit yet.”
“But, he’s not truly your son, is he?” I twist the knife a little, reminding my brother that he adopted the kid. Probably because I’m in a shitty mood, and while Daniele might brighten my day, Dario…not so much.
“Fuck you!” he mutters.
“Jesus, Dario! Did you really interrupt me just to crap me out over this?”
“No, of course not. How are things going with the…investigations?” he asks.
“Slow,” I reply. “But we’re making headway. Might have a lead on the last shipment of diamonds.”
“Good. My intel wells are running dry, and I’m counting on you to get to the bottom of this.”
“No problem.” It really isn’t. The escapade with the Russians had been fruitful despite the discomfort. A quick trip back to that stinking compound had unearthed a mine of information related to my fucking uncle. Of course, that was before we emptied the place and burned it to the ground. I’m pretty sure my kidnappers are regretting taking me now – the girls we released must have been worth a small fortune. But what can I say? Fucking with the Caraldis is always gonna be bad for business.
“Raoul! Are you fucking listening to me?” Dario’s voice is sharp.
“What? I’m listening, goddammit.” Jesus, he’s a dick.
“I wanted to remind you about the charity function in the penthouse tonight.” There’s a pause in which I say nothing. “Please don’t tell me you forgot.”
“I didn’t forget.” Of course, I forgot. “What’s the dress code again?”
“Black tie. It’s always black tie for these fucking politicians. Need a way to show off our tax dollars at work, no doubt.”
“You pay tax, bro?”
“That’s none of your business,” he snaps. “I pay my dues.”
“Of course you do. You’re a respectable fucker now. How’s Nikki, by the way?”
“She’s good.” His voice has softened immediately. “Twins will be here any day now. That’s why I need you to do this thing forme. I can’t leave her alone in Vegas right now. Just don’t fuck it up, okay?”
“Dario! When have I ever let you down?”
“Exactly! Don’t fuck it up. And by that, I mean don’t break the furniture. Don’t offend the guests. And don’t fuck someone’s wife in the goddamn restrooms. I’ve just had this hotel remodeled, and functions like this are good for business.”
“Right. Good for business,” I grumble.
“Yes, Raoul, business! Unless you’d rather focus on wasting more time looking for some piece of ass with a tattoo on her neck.”
“I haven’t been looking for any fucking piece of ass!” I lie through my teeth.
“Anything you say, Raoul. Frankly, I don’t like it when you’re hooked on some pussy, anyhow. I need your head in the game. Roy Robbins is a pompous fucker trying to show he can wield power over every breed of mobster. But gigs like this bring us a step closer to being…” He pauses. The word “respectable” lingers unspoken. “Just don’t go starting any wars with your dick.”
“Jesus, Dario. I’m not a fucking child!” I snap. Then suddenly feel a surge as the words take me back several weeks to a pair of defiant blue eyes.
“Then I’ll expect you to prove it to me. The place just got its seventh star, and if I can get an eighth, the ragheads will be flocking in droves. There’s only one other eight-star venue in the world.”
“Bro, you’d probably have better traction if you didn’t refer to your guests that way in the first place.”
There’s silence, and then, “That’s my boy,” says Dario. “Talking like management.”
