Page 113 of The Slayer
“It pisses me off,” Chuito admitted, keeping his voice low even though they were using Spanish. “It’s too easy.”
“It’s not personal. You have to look at the bigger picture,” Nova explained reasonably in the cool, easy voice of a boss with class. “It’s just about solving the problem, Garcia.”
“I know.” Chuito nodded, because he did. “I got it.”
“Gracias,” Nova said with a smile and seemed to mean it. “I appreciate it. Genuinely.”
Chuito considered that and then asked, “Do you want to move to Garnet?”
“I want to be closer to my brothers. I’d like my nephews to know who the fuck I am.” Nova picked his phone up, looking at it with a distant stare as if it was a habit he had developed as a defense mechanism. “But they’re better without me here. I can see the bigger picture. They can’t. Even Tino can’t, and he knows they’ll never let me go. I do something the old man can’t get from anyone else. They’re not going to let me go. I’m in until I die.”
“Everyone’s replaceable.”
“Not everyone,” Nova whispered sadly. “I have a photographic memory. Not too many people can do what I do for the administration. I don’t think anyone can, but if I find someone, I’ll let you know.”
Chuito raised his eyebrows, because he had to admit that made Nova pretty indispensable and explained why he couldn’t get out. It also explained why he was sitting here speaking Spanish like a Boricua instead of an Italian, but that didn’t make up for being irreplaceable to the mafia and losing his family in the bargain. “That sucks, man. I’m sorry.”
“Itdoessuck.” Nova let out a bitter laugh. “I think you’re the first person who noticed. It’s sucked pretty much since the day I was born.”
“What if the old man bites it?”
“What, are you volunteering?” Nova asked with a laugh. “You going to take him out for me?”
Chuito shrugged rather than commit.
Nova laughed again. “You’re ballsy. Maybe I need more Puerto Rican friends. Loyal and ballsy, it’s a handy combination.”
“Not really.” Chuito sighed. “It’s sort of a fucked-up combination. Bad shit happens. Do you believe in karma?”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” Nova crossed himself. “If I believed in karma, I’d have jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge a long time ago.”
“I believe in karma.”
“Oh my God.” Nova gave him a look of horror. “How do you keep breathing?”
“I don’t know.” Chuito huffed. “I’m not even a real Catholic anymore. The only time I’ve gone to church since I was seventeen was for weddings and funerals.”
Nova looked genuinely shocked. “You don’t go to confession? I know you visit Miami. You don’t go when you’re down there?”
“No.” Chuito felt as shocked as Nova looked. “Do you?”
“Yes,” Nova said as if it were obvious.
“You tell them everything?”
Nova nodded. “Yup.”
“Holy shit,” Chuito mumbled, arching an eyebrow as he took another sip of coffee. “Really? Any priest I’ve confessed a real crime to told me to turn myself in to repent.”
“You think my people don’t have a priest who’s aware of what we do?” Nova asked him with a smile. “We have a whole friggin’ church. We built it in the forties. It’s like a wiseguys convention every Sunday.”
“Of course you do.” Chuito shook his head. “You even have God in your pocket. Fucking Italians. Money fixes just about everything for you.”
“Just about,” Nova agreed and then looked at his phone as if he was hiding again.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chuito had lived in Garnet for over three years, and he’d never gone to the bad side of town. He’d driven through it on occasion, but stopped and spent time there, no fucking way.
