Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“Yep, you haven’t changed at all,” Elena says and starts talking again about the family, about Davide and his wife, Stefania, and I do my best to listen as the city begins to grow around us.
Chicago, my fucking home. I missed this damn place. The bustle, the noise, the trash in the gutters and the closed-down buildings, the urban decay and the renewal of gentrifying neighborhoods. The joy and the horror, the enormous human crawl of a place packed tight with lives and loves and everything else.
I used to run this place. My crew and I were on top of the world. I was slowly building my reputation as a powerful capo in the Bianco Famiglia and proving myself as someone with more than just an important last name. I had my club, I had my boys, and I had my pick of women. Money was no object, and I was deeply connected into a dozen different schemes and plans, right up until everything got fucked.
They called it a gun charge. But really it was a message to the Chicago underworld: the DA’s office didn’t give a fuck anymore and were coming for anyone that stepped out of line. I went down, though not as hard as I should have, and I stayed down for five long years.
Until today.
“Mr. Bianco, this is the place.” The driver squints at the squalid house as I push open the back door. It’s not a great neighborhood, which doesn’t surprise me. Paulie never was an ambitious guy.
“Are you sure about this? I can come with you.” Elena moves like she’s going to follow, but I stop her.
“I need some time to myself, alright, big sis? Just give me ten minutes and I’ll be right back.” Then I close the door in her face.
Paulie’s house has seen better days. The landscaping’s going wild and there’s green mold growing up the siding. The windows look black from dirt and the shutters are all falling off. But despite everything, it’s the same old house Paulie bought with the money from one of our first scores. Maybe not everything changes.
I knock on his door and wait. I like the way the gun feels against my hip. It’s barely covered by my suit jacket, but that’s good enough. I’m thinking back to the last time I saw Paulie, the night when everything went wrong, and I have a smile on my face when the door opens and he stares at me like he’s looking at a ghost.
Paulie put on weight. He’s older and it shows. There’s a streak of gray in his black hair, cut short right now and slicked to the side. His beard is patchy and barely covers his double chin. He’s got new tattoos, mostly ugly fucking things, the sort of shit I never would’ve let him get if he still worked for me, and he’s wearing baggy jeans and a flannel shirt.
“Angelo,” he says and takes a step back. He looks like he’s staring into the open maw of a hungry monster.
I let myself inside. “Been a while, Paulie.” I yank the door closed behind me. Paulie stammers as he shuffles into his living room.
It’s messy, but not too bad. A few empty beer cans cover the coffee table. The couch is white and it’s seen better days. Fucking Paulie always liked white furniture. I smell something cooking in the kitchen and Paulie’s staring at me like he never thought this day would come.
“You alone in here?” I ask him.
He shakes his head. “My girl’s in the kitchen. Lucinda. Lucy, I mean, uh—”
“Bring her in. I want to meet her.” I show my teeth. “Now, Paulie.”
He turns and jumps toward the kitchen. I glance down the hallway and listen at the steps, but I don’t see or hear anyone else. There’s some furious whispering then Paulie reappears with a pretty girl, a little heavy but with a good face and dark hair, just how he used to like them. She’s chewing gum and frowning at me.
“Say hi to Angelo Bianco,” Paulie hisses and shoves her. “Don’t be fucking rude.”
“Hey,” she says and looks back at her man. “Can I go now? Dinner’s gonna fucking burn.”
“Go ahead,” I say, and she walks off, rolling her eyes. “Take a seat, Paulie.” I point at the couch. He hesitates, but he listens like he always used to. Good old reliable Paulie. “How are things on the outside? You never visited me when I was doing my time.”
“You never called. I didn’t know—” Paulie clears his throat. “I should have. I’m sorry I didn’t, boss.”
“You still in touch with the other guys?”
He shrugs and looks away. “I talk to Vito sometimes. Tommy’s got his own thing going at the old club. I dunno about Roc, you know how he was, kept to himself.” Paulie clears his throat a second time. “You looking to get the old guys back together?” There’s a pathetic hopeful note in his voice.