Page 139 of Bitter Poetry
I head straight down.
He’s standing by the wall-to-ceiling window that looks out across the club when I enter. “Ettore wants to see you,” he says without preamble.
“That was sooner than I expected,” I say, for the second time today, walking over to join him at the window. He has a nice office with several seating areas, a conference table, and aprivate bathroom. Yet it’s the club beyond the window that more often draws the eye. Past the one-way glass, the main dance floor appears muted under the regular daytime lighting. “I thought he would be preoccupied for at least a day or two before he admitted something had happened and started rounding up the capos.”
“Rocco called you. He seemed confused when I answered, but I said your calls were being diverted in light of your wedding. I asked him what was so urgent, and he got flustered. He’s not the sharpest tool in the drawer and sounded more harassed than suspicious. Repeated a terse order from Ettore for you to show yourself promptly.”
“At his home?”
“No, at Bosco’s club.”
“Great,” I say, sarcasm dripping from my tone. Ettore might have handed the strip club over to his brother once he became don, but he still has an office there.
“I think I should go with you.”
“Not a chance you’re going with me. If this goes south, I need to know she’ll be safe.”
A tic pulses in his jaw before his expression softens and amusement enters his eyes. “That’s good advice. I don’t like it, but it’s still good advice. You might make someone a decent consigliere one day.”
I roll my eyes at him. But under these circumstances, the humor I would usually feel doesn’t take root. “You know that’s where he keeps his interrogation rooms.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and screw my eyes shut. “I can’t think for shit.”
“But you will when you get there, and when you need to,” he says. “You’ve got this. Get Mateo to drive you. He’s good. He will have your back… as well as anyone can. You know Ettore better than I do. How would he react if he thought you were the one who’d taken her? What would he do?”
“He’d send his soldiers to collect me.”
“Exactly. He wouldn’t risk you getting in the car and driving in the opposite direction.”
“He just misplaced his wife,” I point out. “Might not be thinking straight. He might just be acting out of character.”
“Maybe. Either way, I don’t believe he’ll take rash action unless he’s certain you’re involved. As long as Chris didn’t fuck up… No, as you pointed out, Ettore’s not the sort to play games. He’d send the soldiers in if that were the case. We’ve made good headway with the other capos and reduced the rates for money laundering. Edoardo said only last week that our operation was a breath of fresh air, after Jimmy. I won’t hesitate to implement our plan if Ettore holds you. But it won’t come to that. Not today. I know you can handle yourself under pressure. I’ve seen you enough times with the other capos. Ettore is just an upstart capo, at best. He was never good enough for underboss and not close to cutting it as a don.”
I nod. We have covered this before; considered that we might need to get Carmela out before moving against Ettore if it came down to a fight. My gut instinct tells me Ettore is combing the streets, scrambling for answers, pointing the finger everywhere, but most readily at his biggest threats and rivals.
This is just him following his expected pattern.
“You’re right. Ettore is a blunt tool and doesn’t have a lot of imagination. His road to success has indebted him to the Russians and the Romanians. He’ll think it’s one of them. When they tell him to fuck off, he won’t believe them. But it will take him a while to build up the nerve to act against them, and if he does, that pathway leads to war.”
“A war might eliminate him,” Leon says coldly. “So, you know, that’s a positive result... Don’t bite my head off, but how was Carmela? Anything I need to do or know? Cherry should be back with some clothes and essentials soon.”
“We talked… I left her sleeping…” I’m still second-guessing whether telling her about Ettore was a good decision. “She’s changed.” I didn’t want her to, but now I’m away from her, I can see clearly that she has. “In a stronger kind of way.”
His jaw tightens, and he nods.
“I told her about Ettore. About the evidence Cedro had.”
His brows pull together. “Was that wise?”
“Her sister saw the report but didn’t know exactly what it meant. Carmela knew I’d visited her father, and that he destroyed it afterward. She gave me a direct question. I couldn’t lie to her about it. Too many people, namely her father, have done enough of that. She was devastated—furious—but she said she was glad she knew the truth. And she handled it better than you might credit anyone her age would.”
“You’re proud of her,” he says. “You should be. The way she composed herself at your wedding was nothing short of legendary.” His jaw tightens. “As for what happened after, Ettore will need to atone for that as well. But step one: you need to have this meeting. And I need to know you can do that without trying to strangle the fuck.”
“I can handle myself. I won’t try to strangle him.”I hope.
“Good. Want me to check on her?”
“No.” That came out firmer than I intended—his raised brow says he noticed. “Can you ask Cherry to get some other stuff and drop it off?”
“Sure.” He pulls out his cell. “I’ll send her a message now. Don’t want you distracted.”
