Page 50 of Sinful Bargains

“I wanted to answer the questions you’ve been dying to know,” he said, “The mafia? It’s real.”

The words hit me like a punch. I thought I wanted that confirmation until I was sitting face to face with Vincent, and now I wished I were as blind as everyone else in this godforsaken town. I blinked, my mind scrambling to process what he was saying. I glanced out the window, inhaling a long drag of the cigarette to calm myself. “You mean?—”

He cut me off before I could finish. “It means things around Joey are a lot deeper than he’s letting on. This lifealwayscatches up to you. You know why they call me Lucky? ’Cause I’ve been lucky enough for it not to catch up to me, but most guys aren’t as lucky.”

Vincent exhaled a puff of smoke between us. “You want to know how it all works, huh?” His voice lowered. “Let me break it down for you, kid. It’s a game of chess—a game you’llneverescape alive.”

The papers had made it sound like the mafia was just a group of criminals wreaking havoc in the streets of Staten Island, but they never talked about how it actually worked. They never explained why it functioned the way it did.

“What are you saying?” I asked, gathering the courage to speak.

Vincent smirked at me—the kind of smirk that crawled under my skin, sending a chill through me. “I’m saying there’s one way in and one way out. You’ve read the stories in the papers, haven’t you? I’m sure Joey tells you he’s just a hardworking businessman who owns a car wholesale lot—and he is. But that’s not all he does, kid. Whether he admits it to you or not, Joey is in the mafia. And he’s what we call a capo. You know what that is?”

I shook my head. “No, sir.”

“Caporegime,” he corrected. “Capo for short. In simple terms, a lieutenant. Which means Joey runs his own crew. And under him? You’ve got Marco and Paul—what we refer to as his soldiers. They’re the ones doing therealwork. The jobs. The collections. The muscle. The heavy lifting. The stuff you don’t read about in the papers.” He took a slow drag of his cigarette. “And beneath them, you’ve got low-level associates trying to prove they’re worthy of moving up the ranks.”

My mind was spinning. “Wait, so Joey’s in charge of people?” I couldn’t help but ask. It was hard to wrap my head around.

What I meant was—Joey, the guy I thought I knew, the one who had been helping us, the guy who took me to a Yankees game, helped me get on the baseball team, and swore up and down he wasn’t involved in the mafia—wasn’t justinthe mafia. He was a key player, a capo, giving orders for some of the most vile, heinous crimes I could barely begin to understand. Crimes like murder, kidnapping, gambling, prostitution, and drugs.

Paul and Marco? The same guys who’d fixed the lights that flickered in our house, who’d repaired the electrical unit that sparked, and the guys who’d delivered a brand new car to my mother—they weren’t just good guys doing favors. They were carrying out Joey’s orders—violent, ruthless commands. Theywere the ones cleaning up the murders he committed. They were the ones beating people up in back alleys.

The realization hit me like a cold slap, shattering everything I thought I knew about Joey. He wasn’t just a businessman, but a criminal mastermind, pulling the strings behind the scenes. And I was sitting there, stunned, realizing I’d been living in the middle of this world without even knowing it. Everything I’d trusted, everything I’d believed in, was all a lie.

“He runs his crew, but he answers to the underboss—which, in this case, isme,” Vincent explained. “The underboss answers to the boss, Christopher. Alongside Christopher and me is the consigliere, Hector. It’s a chain of command, kid, and we all play our part in it.”

I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Christopher—Michael’s grandfather? The sweet old man who always smiled and handed us five bucks when he saw us. He was the boss? And Hector—Michael’s father—he was in on it, too? Then there was Michael, one of my best friends, swearing up and down he didn’t know anything. That had to be bullshit. If Michael was lying, then Enzo had to be lying, too. And if that was the case, how much of my new life had been wrapped in lies?

“So, you run things? You’re higher up than Joey?” I asked, trying to piece the puzzle together.

“That’s right. I’m the underboss. Think of me as the one who keeps the whole operation running smoothly—the planning, the enforcement, the business. Joey’s got his reputation and connections, but I’m the one making sure it all stays in line.”

“So, it’s all organized?” I said, half to him, half to myself. The realization hit like a punch to the gut—an organized crime family operating right out in the open. Right under my nose.

He smirked. “You could say that. We call it la cosa nostra.” The pride in his voice was unmistakable. “Play the game right, and you get everything—control, money, respect. That’s what it’s all about.”

Greed.

He paused before adding, “Joey’s part of this life, yeah, but he has his own way of handling things. And I disagree with how he’s been running the show lately.”

“If you’re the underboss, can’t you stop him?” I asked before realizing I might regret saying it.

He chuckled, a dark, knowing laugh. “We’ve got something called le regole—the rules. Break them, and there’s a price to pay, whatever the boss decides. Joey hasn’t crossed the lineyet. But I see it coming. The money, the streets, the power—it’s all connected, and Joey’s no saint. Doesn’t matter how smooth he talks or how soft he acts around you. He’ll make decisions you can’t even begin to imagine when push comes to shove. And I’m going to be the one to catch him.” He turned to me, grinning, rolling the cigarette between his fingers. “I need you to keep an eye on Joey. All the time. Let me know what he’s up to.”

My eyebrows shot up. “How am I supposed to do that? I’m just a kid, sir.”

Without a word, he pulled the car into park next to a sleek, brand-new Chevrolet Corvette and tossed me the keys. “Those are yours now. I want you to sneak out, follow Joey in this car, and report back to me.Easy.”

“Wait, you want me to spy on him?” My heart raced as I stared at the keys in my hand.

“That’s right,” he said. “I need to know everything—where he goes, who he meets. And listen closely, kid—I also want to know if things between him and your mother get serious. You got that?”

I tightened my grip on the keys and glanced out the window at the car. “And you really think I can do this?”

Vincent leaned back in his seat. “Oh, I’m betting on it.”

His eyes and smile felt like they were sizing me up, like he already knew what I could do before I realized it myself. “You’re smart,” he said. “Follow him without him catching on, and you’llearn some serious street cred. You’ve got a front-row seat to everything, Antonio. Just make sure you give me the details, yeah? And believe me—there’s more money to be made than what’s sitting in the driver’s seat of that car.”

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