uncle. He’d been pacing back and forth in front of the window ever since Renata left the house with Juicy and her beautiful Hispanic girlfriend who was visiting from New York.
Frank shrugged. “Nothing changes, Sallie. We keep an eye on Juicy, and we help her out the best we can. Oh yeah,” he added. “We tell Fat Paul to set up some security around her condo. If she needs us, we’re there.”
Sallie frowned. He was still mad about being run out of New York City. The weather was a lot better in California, but his friends—and his hustle—was on the East Coast, and that was where he wanted to be.
“We’re there for how long? C’mon, Uncle Frank. It’s over! Gino’s dead, and the trash that killed him got put down for a nice long nap. We paid our debt, and now it’s over.”
Narrowing his eyes, Frank stared at his nephew. The kid was a half-Irish bum. If Sallie wasn’t his sister’s son Frank would have knocked some principles into the boy’s head.
As the leader of his family Frank wasn’t gonna tolerate having his decisions questioned by some snot-nosed little asshole. He had moved twenty-seven members of his immediate family from one coast to the other in the blink of an eye. He’d arranged new identities for everybody, and set them up with legitimate jobs and front businesses so they could re-establish their normal criminal activities. Keeping the family running smoothly was a full-time occupation, and Frank didn’t need a spoiled little shit like Sallie adding to his troubles.
“It ain’t over until I say it is,” Frank said with firm authority. “We made a deal and we’re sticking to it. That’s how The Organization does business, Salvatore. No matter how long it takes.”
“But you made a deal with a fuckin’ moolie!” Sallie shot off. He despised Blacks and his entire family knew it.
Frank’s patience was growing thin. Like most of the family’s younger soldiers Sallie was near-sighted and hotheaded. His generation, if left to their own impulsive devices, would buck the time-honored traditions and run La Cosa Nostra right back into the barren grounds of Italy where it had originated.
Of course, Sallie wasn’t a member of the ruling council, but Frank sure was. He had vivid memories of the night The Organization was tipped off to an impending federal sting. It was a full-scale, complex operation that involved several federal agencies, and within a matter of days it would have crippled and taken down his entire clan.
Most ignorants believed the mob had all but disappeared from New York City, and that’s exactly what Frank and the other members of their ruling council wanted them to think. Over the past twenty years La Cosa Nostra had adjusted and adapted to the new criminal landscape. They’d gone deep undercover while maintaining dominance in the drug trade, and the idiots who thought they were irrelevant were the same idiots whose money they gladly raked in.
So, when Frank got word that the Feds were sniffing at his door, he and the senior members of The Organization had been grateful for the advance warning. They’d gone to work hiding assets and destroying damning evidence. And as a result of their quick actions they’d not only eluded the Feds with their finances intact, they’d escaped with their lives and their freedom too.
“I’m serious,” Sallie pressed the issue. “I say fuck the moolie.”
“Look, you fuckin’ retard!” Frank exploded, snatching his nephew in the collar. “Did you forget that ‘moolie’ saved your miserable little life? Do I have to remind you about the caches of guns and the warehouse full of dope we moved? And what about all the money we hid away? If it wasn’t for that moolie we’d be spending the rest of our lives in a federal fucking pen! He looked out for us like a man. And we’re going to respect him. Like men.”
Even with the meaty fist at his throat Sallie still disagreed. “I understand all that, Uncle Frankie, but we
Frank shrugged. “Nothing changes, Sallie. We keep an eye on Juicy, and we help her out the best we can. Oh yeah,” he added. “We tell Fat Paul to set up some security around her condo. If she needs us, we’re there.”
Sallie frowned. He was still mad about being run out of New York City. The weather was a lot better in California, but his friends—and his hustle—was on the East Coast, and that was where he wanted to be.
“We’re there for how long? C’mon, Uncle Frank. It’s over! Gino’s dead, and the trash that killed him got put down for a nice long nap. We paid our debt, and now it’s over.”
Narrowing his eyes, Frank stared at his nephew. The kid was a half-Irish bum. If Sallie wasn’t his sister’s son Frank would have knocked some principles into the boy’s head.
As the leader of his family Frank wasn’t gonna tolerate having his decisions questioned by some snot-nosed little asshole. He had moved twenty-seven members of his immediate family from one coast to the other in the blink of an eye. He’d arranged new identities for everybody, and set them up with legitimate jobs and front businesses so they could re-establish their normal criminal activities. Keeping the family running smoothly was a full-time occupation, and Frank didn’t need a spoiled little shit like Sallie adding to his troubles.
“It ain’t over until I say it is,” Frank said with firm authority. “We made a deal and we’re sticking to it. That’s how The Organization does business, Salvatore. No matter how long it takes.”
“But you made a deal with a fuckin’ moolie!” Sallie shot off. He despised Blacks and his entire family knew it.
Frank’s patience was growing thin. Like most of the family’s younger soldiers Sallie was near-sighted and hotheaded. His generation, if left to their own impulsive devices, would buck the time-honored traditions and run La Cosa Nostra right back into the barren grounds of Italy where it had originated.
Of course, Sallie wasn’t a member of the ruling council, but Frank sure was. He had vivid memories of the night The Organization was tipped off to an impending federal sting. It was a full-scale, complex operation that involved several federal agencies, and within a matter of days it would have crippled and taken down his entire clan.
Most ignorants believed the mob had all but disappeared from New York City, and that’s exactly what Frank and the other members of their ruling council wanted them to think. Over the past twenty years La Cosa Nostra had adjusted and adapted to the new criminal landscape. They’d gone deep undercover while maintaining dominance in the drug trade, and the idiots who thought they were irrelevant were the same idiots whose money they gladly raked in.
So, when Frank got word that the Feds were sniffing at his door, he and the senior members of The Organization had been grateful for the advance warning. They’d gone to work hiding assets and destroying damning evidence. And as a result of their quick actions they’d not only eluded the Feds with their finances intact, they’d escaped with their lives and their freedom too.
“I’m serious,” Sallie pressed the issue. “I say fuck the moolie.”
“Look, you fuckin’ retard!” Frank exploded, snatching his nephew in the collar. “Did you forget that ‘moolie’ saved your miserable little life? Do I have to remind you about the caches of guns and the warehouse full of dope we moved? And what about all the money we hid away? If it wasn’t for that moolie we’d be spending the rest of our lives in a federal fucking pen! He looked out for us like a man. And we’re going to respect him. Like men.”
Even with the meaty fist at his throat Sallie still disagreed. “I understand all that, Uncle Frankie, but we
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