Page 92 of 7+Us Makes Nine

“Come on, man!” Tommy said. “Watch the dishes. You’ll break them!”

“Then perhaps you shouldn’t have them lying around on the damned floor,” I said. “This place is a pigsty.”

“Oh yeah? Then maybe you should just leave then.”

“Not until I’ve said my piece.” I pulled out an old rickety chair from beside a shabby wooden coffee table. Several bugs scurried for cover. Again, I suppressed a shudder, already desperate to get out of this filth. I was going to completely lose it if anything crawled on me. I clenched my teeth together, thinking about how my father owed me for making these kinds of errands for him because I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stand doing them.

Nevertheless, I kept on my brave face and fixed Tommy with my sternest gaze. “Come here. Sit,” I said. Tommy folded his arms, apparently not appreciating being offered a seat in his own apartment. But I didn’t care. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” I warned.

“What’s the hard way? This, isn’t it? Because you sure could have fooled me.”

I laughed and cracked my knuckles. A look of panic crossed Tommy’s face. I almost felt bad about what I was going to do to him. He was tall but exceptionally skinny, and by no means would it be a fair fight.

I reached across the room and grabbed his arm, making sure to painfully twist it as I forced him into the chair. He let out a howl as his butt hit the seat. I then positioned myself directly in front of him, squeezed his shoulders, and brought myself down to his eye-level. It was uncomfortable being so close to his face; I could smell his breath, which reeked of cigarettes and stale sour-onion potato chips.

“Where’s my father’s money?” I said.

“I don’t have it.”

“Wrong answer.” I backhand slapped him hard across the face, the rings on my fingers drawing blood from the side of his mouth.

Tommy sputtered for a moment, taking a while to recollect himself. “Look—I don’t have it yet! All right? I don’t have it!”

I balled my fist and punched him on the other side of the face. “Still not the right answer, Tommy.”

“I don’t know what else you want me to tell you,” he said, his voice distorted from the blood pooling his mouth.

“Oh, come on,” I said. “I know you aren’t that stupid. You know exactly what I want you to say. So, let’s try this again. Where is my father’s money?”

“I’ll have it next week. I swear! I’ll have it next week.”

I stepped back and folded my arms. “Hmm…Next week.” Just for dramatic purposes, I swung my hand back, pretending that I was going to hit him again. Tommy cowered in his seat. I laughed. “I guess next week will do,” I said. “However, you better not be lying to me. Otherwise, I’ll be back, and I promise you, my next visit won’t be so fun.”

I put my hand under my jacket, right at my hip, creating the illusion that I was armed.

Tommy’s eyes widened, and he vigorously nodded his head. “Next week, I p-promise,” he stuttered.

I clasped my hand at his shoulder. “Nice doing business with you,” I said, and then let myself out of the apartment.

CHAPTER 2

Giovanni

After leaving Tommy’s, I headed straight to my father’s office to report that I’d done my task.

I had something else to tell him as well though…

As I walked down the hall, heading to his office, several people nodded respectfully and fearfully at me, uttering quick and nervous hellos that I did not return. Everyone knew that I was Luca Romano’s son, which was a reputation that practically proceeded me everywhere I went.

It was a running joke that we Romano’s provided waste-management services. We

were thought of as the city’s ‘sanitation crew,’ hired to be all the muscle the mafia needed. Whenever there was a mess, we cleaned it up and took out the trash; everybody knew that we didn’t leave garbage lying around at any cost.

When I reached my father’s office, I found him sitting at his desk, in the middle of a phone call. He nodded at me as I took a seat before him and crossed my feet on his desktop. Without missing a beat, he pushed my feet off.

“Yeah,” he said into the phone. “Trust me, it’s being taken care of.”

I began twirling my thumbs as I thought about what I wanted to say to him, and how I was going to plead my case.

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