Page 113 of The Killer Cupcake
They'd barely exchanged coded pleasantries when the lights died. In the sudden void, Tommy's Sicilian curse was cut shortby the wet crunch of aluminum meeting bone. Matteo's gun cleared leather just as something solid and fast cracked against his temple. The last thing he registered before the blackness swallowed him was the rhythm - three sets of work boots moving in practiced synchronization.
Carmelo removed his mask first. Slim took off his mask, and then Caesar. They stood over two unconscious men. “Caesar? You know what to do.”
“We will stash Magano until Matteo enlists in the army. Everyone will think he’s dead. Matteo will find the body as we agreed. No one will trace it to us.”
Carmelo looked over to Slim. “And?”
“I got it, Boss. I’ll keep Harlem out of it. Spread the word that Magano is in debt to the Irish. That they got him. Have the families looking in that direction.”
“It’s important, Slim. None of this can be traced to Henry Freeman or Harlem. You got it?” Carmelo asked.
“Got it.”
Carmelo pulled his mask back down. “Then it’s showtime.”
Consciousness returnedin waves of pain. Matteo's vision swam, focusing slowly on Tommy Mangano's corpse. The golden boy lay twisted at an unnatural angle, blood pooling beneath a head so mashed in he couldn’t tell if it was really him—professional work— efficient, brutal.
Matteo's hands shook as he rushed outside and found a payphone, muscle memory dialing Caesar's number. "It's me. Red Hook warehouse. Come alone—no, bring Carmelo. And Slim. Something's happened."
He had no choice but to return to where he had left the dead man. He couldn’t let anyone find him. Twenty minutes felt like twenty years. When the door opened, Carmelo entered first, taking in the scene with those calculating eyes Matteo had grown to hate. Slim secured the outsider while Caesar helped Matteo to his feet. Every time Matteo tried to stand on his own, he felt wobbly from the blow to his head and had to sit.
"Tommy Mangano," Matteo said unnecessarily. "We were... discussing territory."
"Without family sanction." Carmelo's voice held no judgment, just fact. "Who else knows about these meetings?"
"No one. We kept it—" Matteo stopped. "Wait. We left Rao's together. Tommy's crew saw us. Fuck.Fuck. I’m fucked. They’ll pin it on me!”
Carmelo knelt beside the body, studying the wounds with clinical detachment. "Professional hit. Meant to send a message by letting you live.” He stood, fixing Matteo with that penetrating stare. "You understand what this looks like?"
"Like I killed a made man, again. A Mangano captain's son." The full weight crashed down on Matteo. "They'll want blood. The whole family will?—"
“Father will use this against us. He’ll use it, Matteo. And Debbie? He’ll come after her,” Carmelo warned.
Matteo's legs gave out. Caesar caught him, easing him onto a crate. “I’ll cut Pa’s throat myself before I let that happen. No one threatens Debbie, Junior, my baby?—”
"Unless..." Carmelo said.
"Unless what?" Desperation crept into Matteo's voice.
“Unless we cover this up. Get rid of the body. Pin it on Henry Freeman. Make it part of the war.”
“No! No more of that shit! Carmelo, the war has to stop. Too many people are dying. Debbie’s people are dying. You swore tome that you would force Pa and the families to barter a truce with Henry Freeman. Put an end to it.”
“How the fuck do I do that with a fresh body on my hands!” Carmelo shouted back. “You fucked this up. You did it! Always working behind the family’s back, now look! I won’t let Pa kill you or the Maganos!”
Slim and Caesar exchanged a look over Carmelo’s performance.
Matteo dropped his head in shame. “There has to be something else. Some way to fix this. Damn it. She’s pregnant. She’s all I got, and my kids. I got to protect them, Carmelo.”
Carmelo exhaled. He put his hands to his head and paced before the corpse. He froze. "There's a recruiter in Bay Ridge. Owes us favors. You could be in uniform within forty-eight hours. Basic training by week's end. The Army doesn't care about Mafia politics."
“Army? You fucking insane?” Matteo’s eyes stretched.
“If you are not a target, and out of the way, I can work things with Pa and the families,” Carmelo said.
“You want me to run? Abandon my family?" Matteo asked in disbelief.
"I want you to live." For a moment, something human flickered across Carmelo's face. "All of you. Two years and you’re back. Clean. I’ll take care of Debbie and the family.”
