best men with you and get this done tonight. They won’t be expecting it, not this soon.”
Ernesto nods. “I want to take the kid with me.”
Giovanni stares me down with those dark, dark eyes. It feels like he can almost see through me. “Are you ready for this Nickels?”
I shrug.
“You know this will be more than a fight. There’ll be blood and there’ll be death. It won’t be quick. Ernesto will teach you how we deal with thieves and our enemies. You’ll go with him tonight and you will help do what needs to be done.”
He wants me to kill, he wants me to torture. I have enough anger to do both. All I need to remember is my father was friends with the Manzinis. And when my mother was sick, they didn’t give a fuck either. What is it that they say? An eye for an eye.
I stand taller. “Yes sir, I’m ready.”
Giovanni nods his approval. “Good, you help Ernesto get everything done and then we’ll talk.”
Just like that we’re dismissed.
I follow Ernesto out the door and into the lounge where some of the men are hanging out. He singles out three or four of them and everybody knows something’s going down tonight. None of them look at me in question as I would expect them to. But then again, who would dare second-guess what Giovanni Russo says.
No one, if they value their lives.
We head to a private room where Ernesto lays out the plan for tonight.
When we get to the Manzini warehouse, the gun tucked into my waistband weighs me down. I know what's going to happen. I'm ready for it. I'm just really fucking scared. These aren't some street punks we're shaking down. These are the enemy. The Manzinis. This is our declaration of war.
"Massimo," Ernesto says by way of greeting, then shakes the man's hand. I watch closely for physical cues since there won't be any verbal ones. It didn't take me long to catch on to how messages are relayed. A turn of a head, scratching of a chin, or lift of an eyebrow is a signal of some kind, and if you miss it, you're as good as dead.
"Ernesto," the other man replies. He's in his late twenties, like Ernesto.
"Well, look who we have here, boys." Cesare Manzini. Ernesto stiffens, but holds his fingers rigid, signaling to hold… for now.
No one says anything as Cesare swaggers over to where Ernesto and Massimo are standing. Massimo looks as unhappy about his cousin's appearance as Ernesto. Interesting, that.
"What's the meeting about?" Cesare asks.
"He's here to talk to me, cousin. It's personal."
Cesare continues to stare at Ernesto and Ernesto meets his gaze, never wavering.
"Nah," Cesare says, "there's nothing too personal family can't share. Isn't that right, cousin?"
Massimo looks to Ernesto, who nods slightly, and on the inside we brace ourselves—outside there's no hint of anticipation or anxiety.
"So why are you here, Ernesto?" Cesare smirks.
Ernesto shifts his weight and we all settle in. Next signal is go time.
"I'm here to meet with Massimo. My business is not with you."
Cesare nods. "So it is business."
"Why else would I be here?" Ernesto asks.
"I was wondering that very thing," Cesare mutters.
"Cesare, leave us. This has been discussed with Salvatore. You'll be filled in at the meeting later tonight," Massimo tells him, but Cesare remains still, gaze still locked on to Ernesto's.
"I think I'd rather stay."
"And I just told you to leave . You will do as you're told, Cesare, or you'll suffer the consequences," Massimo tells his cousin through clenched teeth.
Cesare grunts. "Calm down, cousin. I'll go. I can't really stand the stench of the Russos anyway. They always smell like… what is that smell?" he asks one of the Manzini men, who makes no move to answer.
"It's the smell of bullshit and it wafted over me when you entered into the room. So I'm afraid, Cesare, that smell is you ," Ernesto tells him, straightening, and it's go time.
We all shift our weight and stand at the ready, Cesare lets out a mirthless laugh.
"Ah, Ernesto,
Ernesto nods. “I want to take the kid with me.”
Giovanni stares me down with those dark, dark eyes. It feels like he can almost see through me. “Are you ready for this Nickels?”
I shrug.
“You know this will be more than a fight. There’ll be blood and there’ll be death. It won’t be quick. Ernesto will teach you how we deal with thieves and our enemies. You’ll go with him tonight and you will help do what needs to be done.”
He wants me to kill, he wants me to torture. I have enough anger to do both. All I need to remember is my father was friends with the Manzinis. And when my mother was sick, they didn’t give a fuck either. What is it that they say? An eye for an eye.
I stand taller. “Yes sir, I’m ready.”
Giovanni nods his approval. “Good, you help Ernesto get everything done and then we’ll talk.”
Just like that we’re dismissed.
I follow Ernesto out the door and into the lounge where some of the men are hanging out. He singles out three or four of them and everybody knows something’s going down tonight. None of them look at me in question as I would expect them to. But then again, who would dare second-guess what Giovanni Russo says.
No one, if they value their lives.
We head to a private room where Ernesto lays out the plan for tonight.
When we get to the Manzini warehouse, the gun tucked into my waistband weighs me down. I know what's going to happen. I'm ready for it. I'm just really fucking scared. These aren't some street punks we're shaking down. These are the enemy. The Manzinis. This is our declaration of war.
"Massimo," Ernesto says by way of greeting, then shakes the man's hand. I watch closely for physical cues since there won't be any verbal ones. It didn't take me long to catch on to how messages are relayed. A turn of a head, scratching of a chin, or lift of an eyebrow is a signal of some kind, and if you miss it, you're as good as dead.
"Ernesto," the other man replies. He's in his late twenties, like Ernesto.
"Well, look who we have here, boys." Cesare Manzini. Ernesto stiffens, but holds his fingers rigid, signaling to hold… for now.
No one says anything as Cesare swaggers over to where Ernesto and Massimo are standing. Massimo looks as unhappy about his cousin's appearance as Ernesto. Interesting, that.
"What's the meeting about?" Cesare asks.
"He's here to talk to me, cousin. It's personal."
Cesare continues to stare at Ernesto and Ernesto meets his gaze, never wavering.
"Nah," Cesare says, "there's nothing too personal family can't share. Isn't that right, cousin?"
Massimo looks to Ernesto, who nods slightly, and on the inside we brace ourselves—outside there's no hint of anticipation or anxiety.
"So why are you here, Ernesto?" Cesare smirks.
Ernesto shifts his weight and we all settle in. Next signal is go time.
"I'm here to meet with Massimo. My business is not with you."
Cesare nods. "So it is business."
"Why else would I be here?" Ernesto asks.
"I was wondering that very thing," Cesare mutters.
"Cesare, leave us. This has been discussed with Salvatore. You'll be filled in at the meeting later tonight," Massimo tells him, but Cesare remains still, gaze still locked on to Ernesto's.
"I think I'd rather stay."
"And I just told you to leave . You will do as you're told, Cesare, or you'll suffer the consequences," Massimo tells his cousin through clenched teeth.
Cesare grunts. "Calm down, cousin. I'll go. I can't really stand the stench of the Russos anyway. They always smell like… what is that smell?" he asks one of the Manzini men, who makes no move to answer.
"It's the smell of bullshit and it wafted over me when you entered into the room. So I'm afraid, Cesare, that smell is you ," Ernesto tells him, straightening, and it's go time.
We all shift our weight and stand at the ready, Cesare lets out a mirthless laugh.
"Ah, Ernesto,
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