It’sthe way of life. It hasn’t even been two minutes since washing my hands of the guy’s DNA and I’m setting up a meet for lunch.
I bleach down the sink and make sure everything is sterilized the way Giovanni has taught us all. If there is one attribute about him, that I can attest to, he is a meticulous motherfucker about mistakes that could land us all in prison. I’ve done a bullet of time as a young man. I have no plans on making a repeat visit. However, this time around would be for an extended amount of time.
Prison is where I became acquainted with the Heart organization. I met a man there who changed the course of my life. He was much older; seasoned. Doing twenty to life for murder. I was young. He took me under his wing. I didn’t understand why at first, and rightfully so. I didn’t trust him. Uncle Benny is what we all call him. He’s still doing his time while working for the organization from the inside. It was about a week into my stint when I was invited into Uncle Benny’s sanctuary and informed of a vow made while we ate from a generous spread of imported Italian prosciutto, provolone, fresh bread, olives, and the richest red wine. All a part of in-house luxury when your name is attached to the Heart organization. All uncharacteristic of my lifestyle up until that point in time.
The story he disclosed was about my mother and my, now boss, Mr. Heart. Their paths crossed at some point in life. The full story was never revealed to me, but the outcome nonetheless is the same. The Don of the Heart organization helped my mother out of a situation she couldn’t see her way out of without certain death. She did some work for him, and in return, all she asked Mr. Heart for was for him to look out for her boy. Why? That I don’t really know, but I believe she knew she wouldn’t live a long prosperous life. Not many whores do. I may be the son of a paid woman, but I know exactly who my father is. How? Because she told me. She became his mistress. Her sole client at his insistence. Living through the day-to-day with the hopes and dreams of him setting her free from the life she was handed. A young girl on the streets with no direction. A futile dream she dreamt with the wishes of him making her an honorable woman. Some time into their relationship, she became pregnant. My father gave her a choice. He didn’t want her or her exhausted body anymore. All my father wanted was his first-born son to carry on his legacy. She made the self-sacrificing choice. She ran knowing death was certain to knock, fleeing to this city I now reside in. We lived day-to-day in unknown fear while my mother resumed laying on her back to feed her child.
The information Uncle Benny gave me, and my initial meeting with the Don himself through the plexiglass divider separating us, was the defining moment in my life. I was a street kid with partial Italian roots who swapped his tattered clothes for an orange jumpsuit to now wearing a suit and working under the orders of a powerful man.
“Give me a Reuben, extra dressing, and make sure the rye is fresh.” The familiar blue-eyed girl behind the counter smiles at me for a second too long. “Thanks, sweetheart.” I throw that in just to make her day before turning away to go grab a drink. Giovanni shakes his head. “What?” I ask as I pull open the refrigerator door.
“That’s cold.”
“That was one night. Hell, it wasn’t even a night. It was a few hours at most.” I look back at her from over my shoulder. “Beautiful girl. Too timid.”
“For the average guy? Or for you?”
“Even for you.”
“Or maybe you’re too harsh.”
“Harsh is not a recognizable word in my vocabulary. I like what I like.” I shrug, uncapping my water.
“Not my business.” Giovanni steps up to pay for our sandwiches. “We set for tonight?” He glances over his shoulder at me.
“Done. The basement should be a full house by midnight. You going to see Izzy after this?” I use her nickname to piss him off.
“Isabelle,” he corrects. “And yes.” We slide into a booth at the back of the deli. “You take care of that thing?”
“Done.”
“Speaking of timid…” He segues right into another question like he didn’t just ask me for the second time in an hour if I properly cleaned up the area we refer to as purgatory. The Heart organization’s chamber of certain death. It’s in the basement of the warehouse where we conduct fatal, fact-finding blows of business. A well-known space. If you are brought down those steps, it is a guarantee you won’t be coming back up.
I glance up at him as I bite into my sandwich. “What about it?” I ask, not sure what he’s referring to. Even though Giovanni is only a handful of years older than me, I respect him and his point of view. That doesn’t mean I listen to all his advice. We view things in our personal life differently. We appreciate the same proclivities when it comes to our partners. However, mine are much stronger in the dominance sense. When it comes to business, that’s a whole different situation. We have each other’s back. We’ve both been dealt a shitty hand in life in our early days, but we have one thing in common: Mr. Heart.
“I saw your introduction to Cillian’s sister,” he continues, observing me.
“She’s young,” I grumble, taking another bite of my sandwich.And beautiful.
“Doe-eyed.” He nods, agreeing, before taking a sip of his water. “Doesn’t really look like she would be into the slap and tickle.”
“I don’t tickle, lover boy.” I give him a wink, pacifying the situation with a joke.
“That’s an understatement. You all but cut the girl off at her knees when she addressed you by your first name.”
“I don’t let anyone address me by my first name. At least those who don’t earn my permission.” I sit back, lean against the booth, and reflect on our introduction.
“This was different.”
“Very.” I grab for my water, glancing out the picture window then over to the girl behind the counter.
“In a good way or bad?”
“Undecided.”
ChapterThree
HAVEN