Alfonso grunts, polishes off his glass, and refills it. “You know why I liked you back in the day, Prime? There were dozens of kids like you willing to do brutal and dangerous shit for a dime. But you were the only one who actually made it happen. You were clever and competent. Not many capable fucking urchins lying around the streets of Philly. I’m glad you haven’t changed.”
“How bad is Fontana right now, Alfonso?”
“Why the fuck would I tell you that? I should shoot you in the face for coming to my house, asking me these questions?—“
I put my gun on the table. “Don’t make threats.”
He looks at the weapon for a long time. “You always were trouble.”
“How bad? Be honest with me.”
“I hear you’re working for him now. Is that true?”
“Can’t always believe the rumors.”
He grunts and drinks. “Might as well shoot me. I’m worth more dead anyway.”
“What’s that mean?”
Alfonso considers me. He runs a hand through his thinning hair and for a brief moment he’s that young man again. He wasn’t always a top earner, wasn’t on a fast-track to leadership, but he was solid. That’s how he got the house, the wife, the kids. He took care of business. I learned that from him, back in the day.
But it’s gone to seed. I can smell it on him. The old ways hanging around like weights around his ankles.
“You never leave it. That’s how the outfits are. You know the way it has to be, but that doesn’t mean you love it. Sometimes, they treat you like you’ll always be there, no matter how hard shit gets.”
“Fontana’s that bad?”
“Worse. The bastard.” He drinks again, long and deep. “Half the outfit hasn’t been paid in months. The other half is scrounging by. Guess which end I’m on?”
“You know other people getting fucked?”
“Plenty. Some already left. A few skipped town. I’m too fucking old to do that shit. My wife’s got a decent job. I got some work lined up that gets me by. But the young bloods? The future of this family? They’re unhappy.” He laughs to himself. “God, I shouldn’t be telling you this.”
But he is and that means the situation is so much worse than I thought. It’s one thing to be unhappy with your organization.
It’s another to break all the rules and talk about family business with an outsider like this.
“I visited Fontana at his house a few weeks back. I went there with Marco Carbone.”
Alfonso’s nose wrinkles. “You met the fucking Ferret, huh?”
“That’s what you call Carbone?”
“Yeah, since he looks like a god damn rodent. Sneaky mother fucker.”
“You’d be surprised at the car he drives. You’d be pissed if you saw the way Fontana lives.”
“Don’t.” He holds up a hand. “Won’t work.”
“Just pointing out the truth. You know they got a new business going?”
Alfonso’s lips tug down. “That’s where you come in, right?”
“I bet you don’t know a damn thing about it. Have you seen any money?”
“Didn’t realize there was any.”
“Fontana not offering you work?” I shake my head and sip the wine. “There are jobs now. Shit you could be doing for him.”
