Page 9 of Long Live the King
“Yeah, I wanted to bring this to your attention when it happened, but I figured it could wait until we got to this meeting,” Frankie says, with a bit of anxiety lingering in his voice.
“Alright,” I reply almost as a question, because I instantly wonder why the fuck Frankie would choose to wait to tell me anything.
“A couple of nights ago, guys in my crew followed one of the trucks as it came off the highway, like we usually do,” Jimmy begins. “But when they tried to stop him, the driver wouldn’t pull over. They even tried to cut him off, but the guy starts shooting a fucking shotgun out the window. Hit one of my guys in the back of the shoulder, and almost took his fucking head off. So, they backed off and let the guy go.”
“Let him go? What kind of truck was it?” I ask with a frown.
“Some sort of meat delivery,” Frankie chimes in again. “The semi had Big Vic’s written on the side of it. I’ve never heard of it.”
“Me either,” I admit. “This the first time your guys ever have trouble like this, Jimmy?”
“Yeah. All the frequent truckers know to pay already. This is the third time we’ve seen this truck on the highway, so I got a feeling it’s gonna be back.”
“Good. So when they come back, be ready for it, and make sure it stops,” I command. “This needs to be handled, Jimmy. We can’t have the word spreading that truckers can start shooting at made guys if they don’t wanna pay the tax. I don’t give a fuck if you gotta shoot a guy’s face off and leave him in the street for the whole world to see. Everybody better know not to try to jip us.”
“I understand, Dominic,” Jimmy replies with a nod of his head. “But since my guys missed out on this score, my envelope is a little lighter than usual this month.”
“You fucking kidding me? You’ve only been a captain a couple of months, and you’re already skimming the kick up?”
“I’m not skimming it. I just told you what happened.”
“So, all of your money was riding on making this score with Big Vic’s truck?”
“Well, no, but it did make my crew a little short, which makes me a little short. I thought you would understand after what I just told you.”
“All I understand is that I have a captain who can’t kick up to his boss,” I snap. The air leaves the room like it’s been sucked out by a giant vacuum.
“I don’t mean no disrespect, Dominic,” Jimmy says, but it does nothing to appease my growing frustration towards him. “I’m new at this, and kicking up fifty-grand a month is tough to figure out. I just thought you’d understand. I guess I know better now.”
“I guess you fucking do,” I bark. “The only reason I’m gonna give you a pass on this shit is because you’re new to this level and Frankie vouched for you. But you better get your shit together and figure it out, Jimmy. You’re a captain now, so coming here with two pieces of bad news is a great way to hop right on my fucking nerves, and that ain’t where you wanna be. Don’t make me regret making you a capo.”
“Sorry, Dominic,” Jimmy says, looking down at the table with a silly little sad puppy face I’d love to slap right off of him.
“Great. Is there any other fucking news I need to know about?” I ask, feeling agitated. When no one answers, I stand up and address Jimmy with a pointed finger. “I got some shit I need moved from Alannah’s place in a couple of days. Make sure the lowest guys in your crew are available when I call.”
“What? My crew?” he snaps, which is never a good idea.
“Yeah, your crew! Because you’re the newest capo, and the one who’s fucking envelope is light. And also because I fucking said so! You got a fucking problem with that, Jimmy?”
“No, of course not, Dominic,” Jimmy mutters, quickly avoiding eye contact again.
Nobody says anything after that. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s wise guys who don’t know how to be good wise guys. I don’t have time to sit up here and teach thisfottuto idiotahow to be a captain. In Our Thing, you either learn or get clipped, simple as that. So Jimmy and John better shape up, or there’s going to be hell to pay.
The meeting adjourns as all of us stand up and do our customary hug. Each capo wraps their arms around me, then reaches into their jacket pocket and retrieves an envelope to give to me. Fifty grand per captain, except Jimmy, of course. I don’t even bother to ask him how much is in his envelope. I just take it and shove it into my jacket pocket before turning on my heel and walking out. I hear Frankie tell Jimmy, “Get it together,” just as the door closes behind me.
