Page 70 of Mafia Kings: Valentino

“And he can’t get a new fuckin’ jet?”

Niccolo gave me aSHUT THE FUCK UPlook as the pilot came out of the cockpit.

He was an old guy, probably close to 70, and brown as a walnut from years in the sun. He looked pretty strong, but it was hard to ignore the white hair – on his headandgrowing out of his ears.

He told us gruffly in a Sicilian accent that we’d be in Palermo – the capital of Sicily – in an hour and a half. Then he told us to strap in and went back to the cockpit.

“Maybe Don Vicari should get a new pilot, too,” I muttered.

“I’d bet you a million dollars that guy has flown combat missions in the military,” Niccolo said. “Not to mention a thousand drug runs through NATO and Russian territory. If there’s anybody in the world you want flying your plane through a storm, that’s the guy.”

I looked at Niccolo dubiously.

“You have a lot to learn about Sicilians,” he said drily.

I took a seat as far away from Niccolo as I could get. For most of the flight, I just stared out the window and ignored him completely.

About halfway there, though, he came over and sat down in the seat opposite me.

“I realize you hate me right now,” he said, “but I’m trying to do what’s best for the family.”

“Which includes fucking me over, apparently,” I snarled without looking at him.

“If it’s the girl – ”

“She has a name.”

“If it’s Caterina, then why didn’t you take Dario up on his offer?”

He didn’t say it snidely or anything – but the question enraged me all the same.

“I’m 22 years old,” I said. “What the fuck wereyoudoing when you were 22?”

“Preparing to be aconsigliere,”he said quietly.

“Oh, that’sallyou were doing? ‘Cause I seem to remember you, Dario, Adriano, and Massimo partying yourassesoff.”

“But not Roberto?”

“I don’t think Roberto would know a party if it spat in his face.”

Niccolo chuckled. “That’s probably true.” Then he grew more serious. “We had our fun back in the day, yes… but it wasn’tallfun. Dario wasn’t much older than you are now when he went off to prison.”

“He was 26 –not22. And he gotoutof prison. Somehow, I don’t think I’m going to be getting out of this marriage.”

“Dario got out, yes, but he only got out alive because he met Lars. People tried to kill them all the time in San Vittore.”

“And, what, it’s gonna be peace and love where I’m going? No danger at all? Give me a fucking break.”

Niccolo narrowed his eyes. “In the past, whenever war broke out, I’m sure the men who got drafted bitched and moaned about all the guys before them who hadn’t had to serve. But in the end, when war comes, they hand you a gun, and you go fight.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get as many good years as Dario and Adriano and I had, but believe me: warhascome to our doorstep. Times have changed. We’ve all picked up our guns, and now it’s your turn to serve. I’m sorry it had to be this way, but don’t get angry at me – get angry at Fausto and Aurelio.”

“Oh, believe me, if I ever get the chance, I’m going to shoot thembothin the back of the head,” I snarled. “But it’s not Fausto or Aurelio who’s forcing me to go to Sicily.”

“No, it’s not. It’s me and Dario,” Niccolo said. “And you can hate us for the rest of your life, if you want.”

“I’m pretty sure it was allyouridea, so I just think I’ll hateyoufor the rest of my life.”

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