The Family Corleone by Ed Falco Page B

plans for all his children. Tom had to be a lawyer and get into politics. Sonny was going to be a captain of industry. Michael and Fredo and Connie weren’t old enough yet to have had their futures picked out for them—but that would come. Everybody had to be the thing Pop said they would be—except Sonny wasn’t going to be slaving for Leo much longer, one way or another. He’d have to find a way to talk to his father. He knew what he wanted to do and what he was good at. It was less than a year now that he had his gang together, and he already had a car and a new wardrobe and a few thousand stuffed in his mattress.
    “Hey!” Cork rapped on the passenger-side window and jumped into the front seat beside Sonny.
    “
Minchia!
” Sonny straightened out his hat, which he’d knocked sideways jumping up when Cork startled him.
    The back doors opened and the Romero brothers and Nico piled in. “What the hell was all that about?” Nico asked.
    Sonny shifted around in his seat so that he could see into the back of the car. “You’re not going to believe this,” he said, and then he went on and explained what had happened with Tom and Kelly.
    “
Christ!
” Vinnie said. “Tom screwed that dame!”
    Cork said, “If Luca finds out…”
    “Even your pop won’t be able to save him,” Nico said.
    “What’s her play, though?” Sonny asked Cork. “She tells Luca, he’s liable to kill her, too.”
    “
Liable
?” Angelo said. “I’d make book on it.”
    “So?” Sonny said, looking at Cork.
    “Hell if I know,” Cork said. He slumped back in his seat and tilted his hat down over his eyes. “It’s some kind of a mess.” He was quiet, and everyone in the car was quiet along with him, waiting for him to come up with something. “I’m too drunk to think about it,” he said, finally. “Sonny Boy,” he added, “do your friend Cork a favor and drive him home, will ya?”
    “Okay, gentlemen…” Sonny straightened himself out behind the wheel. He thought about warning them against flapping their gums about Tom and Kelly and decided it wasn’t necessary. Of the three of them, Nico was the biggest talker—and he hardly ever said two words to anyone outside the gang. That was a big part of why he chose them. The twins were famous for talking only to each other, and even then not so much. Cork had the gift of gab—but he was smart and could be trusted. “I’ll drive the princess here home,” he said.
    “We gonna lay low for a while?” Nico asked.
    “Sure,” Sonny said, “like we always do after a job. We’re in no hurry.”
    Vinnie patted Sonny on the shoulder and slid out the door. Angelo said, “See you later, Cork,” and followed his brother. With one foot out the door, Nico nodded toward Cork and said to Sonny, “Take this guinea-wop-dago-loving son of a bitch home.”
    “Jaysus,” Cork said to Sonny, “they need to give that a rest.”
    Sonny pulled out onto 126th. “Christ,” he said. “I’ve got to work tomorrow.”
    Cork leaned against the door and tossed his fedora on the seat beside him. He looked like a kid falling asleep on a drive, his hair all funny, shaped by the hatband. “Did you see the tits on that hatcheck girl?” he asked. “I wanted to dive in there and swim till I drowned.”
    “Here we go.”
    Cork threw his hat at Sonny. “What’s the matter?” he said. “We can’t all have dames falling all over us, you know. Some of us got to rely on our imagination.”
    Sonny tossed Cork’s hat back to him. “I don’t have dames falling all over me.”
    “The hell you don’t,” Cork said. “How many you screwed this week? Come on, Sonny. You can tell your pal Cork.” When Sonny was quiet, Cork said, “What about that broad at the table next to us? Gad. She had an arse like the back of a bus!”
    Sonny laughed, despite himself. He didn’t want to get Cork started on dames.
    “Where you taking me?” Cork asked.
    “Home. Where you asked.”
    “Nah.” Cork