Page 24 of Dagger in the Sea

“I’m not going to let her and her pansy ass gentrification committee pals get the best of our neighborhood. They think they can just steamroll through when and how they want.”

“You’re going to have to make adjustments. This isn’t anything new. Don’t let your personal shit with her cloud your judgement.”

His lips twisted. “Oh, I don’t need your council on this particular matter.”

“Obviously. That’s why you’ve kept me out of it, right?”

He leaned back against the sofa. “As I said, none of your concern.”

“My mother’s safety and well being are my concern, Mauro. I’m asking you to pull back. If it’s not her restaurant, it’ll be someone else’s. Then a bar, a café, a fucking Starbucks.”

“None of your concern.”

End of discussion? I ground my jaw. None of his family knew about me, and I’d accepted that. I’d accepted his conditions from the very beginning. He liked me working in his business, appreciated my talents. He needed to give me this much. “I’ve been your lackey, your bodyguard, your pimp, your secret messenger, your assassin, your accountant, your advisor. But I’m also your son, and I’m asking you to let this go.”

Mauro sniffed in air, rubbing his fingers along his throat. “Pour me another drink.”

I took his glass and poured him another, handing it back to him. He drank. “I need you, Turo.”

“You need to need Val,” I shot back.

He pointed a finger at me, eyes beaming. “You’re right. Do one thing for me, and I’ll give you what you want. I’ll lay off your mother.”

That phrase. It was always one thing, one more thing. Hang on, Turo, just do thisthing. His exact words ten years ago, words I’d sucked into my soul and fed on, thinking they’d feed my hunger.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Val was supposed to get hired by Gennaro Aliberti for his new hotel in Chicago,” he said.

Aliberti was a hotelier from Miami who owned a popular hotel conglomerate which included high-end casinos in Vegas and trendy boutique hotels in New York City and Miami. Now, he was planning on opening a hotel in Chicago. Mauro wanted in on that prestige. He wanted the connections that such a working relationship with Gennaro might provide. And to top it all off, Gennaro came from mob royalty in Napoli. His brother was the head of one of the strongest and oldest families there.

“Right,” I said. “You’d made a bid for construction, carting—”

“The whole thing. This was going to be the beginning of a new relationship.”

“You and Aliberti have always been on good terms. I thought that was a go ahead,” I said. Aliberti’s resort in Vegas was Mauro’s favorite vacation spot. Aliberti’sfamigliaback in Napoli were a major locus of crime in southern Europe. Getting this job would be a coup for the Guardino name among the other Chicago Outfits.

A pained look morphed his features as he put the empty glass down on the table in front of him. He wanted this so bad nothing else was filling that need. He wanted it so bad he’d come to me. “I let Val negotiate terms on his own, and he went a little overboard.”

“How overboard?”

His lips twisted. “You know how he shoots his mouth off, gets started on a joke then takes it too damn far to get one more laugh? He must have insulted him. The deal broke down. I need you to fix it.”

And there it was. He wanted this so bad, he was asking me behind his son’s back to fix his fuck up.

“You’re good with the smooth talk, Turo. Gennaro Aliberti is very old school, like you. He’s got money and shows it off but in the right way. High end.”

That was me, moneyed and high end, as opposed to the lowbrow lugs who worked for my father.

“I mean, I can’t send Lou, can I?” Guardino let out a stiff laugh. “What kind of impression is my Underboss going to make in his For Members Only jacket?”

“They still make those?”

“I don’t think so. But Lou loves them.”

Lou. Major lug. And you could barely understand what he was saying through those fat lips of his, his swollen face. His brother owned a bakery and pizzeria chain, and that’s where he spent most of his time when he wasn’t tooling around in his old DeVille.

“I want this deal to go through,” Mauro said. “I have to be a part of Gennaro’s Chicago hotel. I need to get this sewn up before he goes to someone else. I know they’re lining up outside his door, but I was first in that fucking line and I’m not about to get kicked to the curb. He knows how things work. He’s a smart businessman, well known, respected. He doesn’t put up with any kind of crap, why should he? I need to be back on Gennaro Aliberti’s good side, Turo. You go impress him with your talk.” The Boss’s eyes lit up. He was being convincing, enthusiastic. “Your whole slick but firm thing. You never rush, you take your time—”

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