He had that soft plea in his eyes, like he did this often enough. And if he hadn’t been a Fed, I would’ve entertained him, shown him exactly the type of man Rocco Bianchi was. He needed to count himself lucky I wasn’t Tomaso.
From my spot in the office, I could reach out for the door, and as I did, he cupped a hand on my cock. It was soft—a littlechub, but he wasn’t going to see it, let alone make any use of it. I knew better. I could have any guy, even the former straights and currently sexually confused.
“Take your hand away,” I said. “This might constitute harassment.” The flood of sound from the bar and restaurant came through.
“I guess the rumors aren’t true, then,” he said with a shrug, removing his hand.
“Rumors might get you into trouble,” I said as he turned to leave. “And remember, I know who you are, and if you’re wearing a wire or a body camera somewhere, you’ve been made. Get your handler to take you out of this place beforesomeonein the community smells a rat and takes matters into their own hands.”
He nodded. “I’m not a rat, sir.”
I winked at him and he almost tripped over, as I closed my door behind him. The smell of his body lingered behind and he was right, my chubbed cock was now a little harder. But I wasn’t going to play with him, he was a fucking Fed, a rat, and he should run out that door the first chance he got, unless he had a death wish.
***
Santo was on the phone, sighing about our brother Tomaso getting help for his drinking problem. He was at a facility voluntarily, which meant he could leave whenever he wanted, and he liked to leave, go on a bender, and come back with a new tattoo or dermal implant somewhere on his body.
“He’s gonna get arrested, he’s gonna get locked up, and then we’re all fucked,” he said, the sound of his teeth grinding down the phone. I didn’t want to tell him about Kal, he didn’t need to know we were beinginvestigated. Although I probablyneeded to tell him, I wasn’t going to put it on his plate when he was dealing with our brother. “If he comes by Palazzo, please keep him there. Don’t let him take anything from the bar. Tell Lorna she can use that baseball bat she keeps as well.”
I laughed, staring at the back of my office door. The smell of Kal still lingered, and my mind recreated him in full form as if he was standing there, begging to go down on his knees, just so I didn’t force him to break and confess to being a Fed. “Yeah,” I grumbled back. “Still has that tube sock over it as well.”
“He’s probably going to be heading your way since you’ve got the big game happening this week,” he said. “I’ll be a call away if you need help.”
The big game was underground, and there was a few million dollars in play, and then some. People used the Palazzo to make deals, wash their money, then gamble it all away. You needed a hundred grand in your pocket just to get through the door. We didn’t do Bitcoin, we dealt in cold hard cash. People came into the games with deeds to houses, boats, and whatever else they wanted, and while it was legal in this state, we were set up for the high rollers not some S Corp trying to game you out of your cash. Of course, we also offered credit—with interest on that credit—for people to play with, and we always got our money back.
“I’ll have people over to collect him,” Santo said. “The last time he got loose at a game, we almost lost territory.”
That was another thing. We didn’t care who you were affiliated with, as long as you were good for the money and you could give what you said you would. Poker games had been a staple growing up in the Bianchi family. We were all taught to bluff from a young age, all taught what a good poker face looked like, and how to get what we wanted from it.
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t get in,” I said. “Anything else you need from me?”
“No, just let me know if there’s any sightings of Tomaso,” he said. “Last thing we need is Ma thinking he’s off the deep end over Dad’s death.” In truth, we all were, ever since our father died from ass cancer—an ironic way of dying considering he was a homophobic piece of shit who would try beat the gay out of us, all three of us. “And make sure you’re taking regular time away from the Palazzo. I don’t need you breaking as well.”
I nodded to the phone, even though he couldn’t see. He was right. I spent a lot of time here, and it was a mess. I had a trash bag filled with takeout and empty bottles—or near empty bottles of scotch from where I’d celebrated a little too hard with a guy or two.
The evening rush was coming in—people getting out of work, filling up the bar, and people coming for early dinner reservations. It was nice to see the place getting busy, because it meant more money was coming in through us, and that meant more money could be washed. I didn’t ever deal with the logistics of it; math and spreadsheets weren’t my place. Santo dealt with all that shit, and Tomaso was the threatening one. I just looked like I could guard a vault, and with the chest of someone you’d think bullets would bounce off—fingers crossed I never had to try that.
Since that talk with the undercover operative—who was doing a poor job, probably fresh out of recruitment—I hadn’t seen him. And then, out of nowhere, he walked by me with a big smile on his face. He was serving people now, a Jack of all trades it seemed, and I wondered if he was fooling anyone else—even Lorna must’ve had suspicions.
“Hey,” I called over to him, propping an arm up on the bar and resting there. I stared at him and that smile of his.
“Yes, sir,” he said, and all that was missing was a salute.
“At ease,” I snickered. “I’m not going to confirm any of the rumors you’ve heard about me or my family. But I do want to warn you again, Kal, or Kalen, whichever you prefer.”
His lips turned thin and stern, as if he was trying to refuse my clear charm offensive. “Either,” he said. “And I’m just here to work. We’ve all got to make money, and if I’m not on the bar or waiting, I’m not making money, I’m not getting tips.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “You’re clearly very talented,” I told him. “You’ve clearly worked bar jobs before, and sure, you’d probably get away with this if you were trying to fool the Morrells or the Cordellos. Maybe you’d actually get somewhere if you went over there. Locke’s still in prison, so you could easily integrate his surrogate son.”
He licked at the edge of his lip, as if he was about to say something about me—since sure, I wasn’t a Bianchi by blood, but I was raised as one, and for all of society, I was one. I watched him for a moment, wondering if he was going to tease me like he had done earlier in the office.
Lorna saved him by calling him over. We were getting busy, but I still had my eye on him.
Before he left, I leaned in close. “Don’t forget to give your notice,” I said. “And tell your handler to pull you from this op, you’re just wasting government money.” And I ended it with a wink. He audibly gulped, and I really hoped he would rethink his decision to be here, in my line of sight, especially when we were running some of the largest underground illegal gambling books.
2. KALEN
Caught out on my first day—but the joke was on him, this wasn’t even a real operation. I’d grown up in Boston, surrounded by crime, surrounded by a father with a crippling gambling problem. I grew up not knowing whether we’d be living in the same apartment—home, hotel, whatever it was, it wasn’t stable.
