“And what about our leaky faucet situation?” I ask Danny. He glances at Giovanni, and I tell him, “Speak freely. We’re among friends.”
“I got the proof like you wanted.” He reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a manila envelope, which he slides across my desk. “Pictures of the exchange and the recording that goes along with it.”
I turn on my desk lamp and retrieve my reading glasses to look through the 8x10 glossy photographs of what appears to be one of my men selling trade secrets to a rival family. The rat in question is a man named Tommaso, and he’s been a problem for a while. For one, he beats his wife and kids, as well as his girlfriend andherkid. Besides that, he has a terrible work ethic, consistently showing up late or not at all, which is probably due to his chronic coke habit. He’s the second cousin of one of my underbosses, recruited from the old country, which I thought would endear him to me, but if anything, shames me even more. If he were a younger man, I might suggest an intensive retraining program, but he’s well into his forties and shows no signs of changing. The final straw is my most recent discovery, that he’s been feeding the Tagliarini family information about our distributers here in the U.S. and abroad. He’s a slimy piece of shit and I’m done with him.
I play the recording on my laptop and listen on my headphones to confirm that it is in fact what’s taking place. An interrogation may have served the same purpose, but people will tell you anything under the duress of torture. I prefer to get the evidence up front. When finished, I set the tech aside.
“Where is he now?” I ask Danny.
“In the lounge having a drink. I asked one of the girls to give him a lap dance too, keep him occupied.”
“Let him finish his drink. Then bring him in here.”
“You got it, Boss.”
Danny leaves. I glance over at Giovanni, sipping his Coke through a paper straw—we’re environmentally conscientious around here. He raises his eyebrows like this is one of his daytime soap operas and things just got juicy.
“Have a seat,” I tell Tommaso after he’s been bodied through the door.
“Tried to run,” Danny says, flush in the face. “Musta had a feeling.”
“Did you have a feeling, Tommy?” I ask. He insists everyone in the family call him that because it sounds more American.
“I just didn’t want to leave the party.” He sniffs and wipes his nose. He looks like shit—red eyes, sniffles, a bronchial cough. The rat bastard better not be contagious.
“You having a good time out there?” I stand and circle my desk, motioning to the VIP lounge outside my door.
“Wherever I go is a party, Boss,” he says with a wide smile, trying to be charming. Or something. My people know I’m gay, and I think the men sometimes try to use it in their favor. It doesn’t work. I don’t mix business with pleasure. The fact that Giovanni is connected to the mob is unfortunate.
“Not anymore.” I toss the photographs in his lap, and he immediately starts in on the excuses.
“I can explain this, Boss. I was just trying to get a little more info on their ground game, ya know? In case you wanted to break into the street drug business.”
“So you could snort that shit up your nose?”
He wipes his nostrils again. “No, Boss, to expand your operations. The Tagliarini’s know where the money’s at.”
The Tagliarini’s are little more than international pimps—sex trafficking in women and children too, many of them immigrants who can’t even speak the language. Their business model is despicable, and it’s going to catch up with them one of these days. I push play on my laptop. Tommy’s voice fills the room. It’s incriminating and indefensible.
“Doesn’t sound like you were discussing the best street corners for slinging drugs,” I tell him.
“Boss, it ain’t like that.”
I nod. “Listen, Tommy, I had my reservations when you started with the family and despite Danny’s and my overwhelming feedback over the years on how to improve your performance, you haven’t. And now, you’ve not only harmed the family through your incompetence, but you’re actively trying to sabotage me.”
“I’m not, Boss. I swear. Just give me a—”
“So, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to sober up. Go home to your wife. Make love to her one more time if she’ll let you. Say goodnight to your kids. Give your girlfriend a call and tell her you’re sorry for being such a lying sack of shit. And then you’re going to take a ride with Carmine.”
Carmine steps out of the shadows where he’s been waiting like an executioner. He’s my lead enforcer, and he excels at waste management.
“Boss, you can’t be serious.”
“I’m dead serious, Tommy.”
“Boss, I’m a husband. And a father.”
“And you’re shitty at that too. Now, if you cooperate, the Aponte family will take care of Diana and the kids, make sure they have what they need. But if you make a fuss, then they ain’t getting nada.Capito?”
