Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
He sighed and waved me off. “It’s fine, kid. I get it. I’m happy to help where I can, I just sometimes forget that I’m retired.”
I grinned at him. “Yeah. Me too.”
“Look, kid. You want my advice? You don’t wait to hear from Vlas. You send word to him, show him some respect, make sure he knows what went down was beyond your control, but you’re making it right. Make it harder for him to have pretext.”
I clenched my jaw for a moment. “The idea of showing that piece of shit respect—”
“I know,” Sergio said, shaking his head. “He’s a wild animal. He’s sick. But you want to avoid war, right?”
“I do,” I grunted, though sometimes I wasn’t so sure. I knew it wasn’t profitable, and I know the Leones would be pissed, but sometimes I just wanted to roll up on Vlas with my full crew of loyal soldiers and let the chips fall as they may.
“Then send him a message.” Sergio picked his tray back up and held it in both hands. “But first, come get this door for me.”
I grinned, walked over, and held the kitchen door for him. I got a glimpse of a shining stainless steel kitchen with bowls in perfect rows, everything shining and bright. The smell of cooking bread blasted me in the face and I breathed it in like a sweet elixir. Sergio slipped past me and headed over to a row of dough.
I let the door shut and leaned up against the counter for a moment. I looked at the small bakery, at the tables and their gleaming metal legs, and I knew he was right. I should reach out to Vlas and make sure things were square. I was getting anxious, and I couldn’t risk fucking this up, not with so much at stake.
I walked to the front door and stepped outside. The bell rang and the CLOSED sign clattered as I let it shut behind me. I got out my phone and called Steven.
“Boss,” he grunted.
“Get your lazy ass up.”
He sighed into the receiver. “I’m up.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Some of us sleep,” he said.
“Yeah, well, you’re a made man. Sleep when you’re—”
“What do you want, Dante?”
I grinned and looked down the street. The sun was coming up over the Philly rowhomes an I saw a few people starting to head to work. A guy in a suit moved past me with a backpack on, only letting his eyes drift over me for a moment. I was wearing my own suit, black jacket and black pants with my white shirt tucked in. It was my uniform, and I liked to always play the part.
Besides, the jacket covered the bulge of my gun, tucked into its holster at the center of my back.
“Need you to send Vlas’s people a message for me,” I said.
“Really?” He sounded a little more awake now.
“Really. Reach out and check in. See if they got our little apology present. See what they say.”
“Huh.” He was quiet for a moment.
“You think that’s a bad idea?”
“It’s just not like you,” he said. “The idea of showing a little extra respect seems like it’d be foreign.”
“It is,” I snapped. “Sergio told me to do it, so I’m doing it. Now you gonna obey your Capo or what?”
“Sure thing, boss,” he said with a laugh. “Should’ve known that was Sergio.”
I sighed and rubbed my cheek. “Get your ass to the bakery in an hour,” I grunted. “And wake up the others. I want double guys on the streets today. I got a bad fucking feeling.”
“I will,” Steven said, tone serious again.
“Good.” I hung up then slipped my phone back into my pocket. My eyes moved down the street, past the trees growing from their dirt patches on the edge of the sidewalk, and gazed up at the sky. It was pink and blue, a pretty little sunrise.
But a bloody, bloody omen.
* * *
The smell of sizzling garlic made me smile. No matter what, the smell of cooking garlic somehow made the day seem like it wasn’t so bad, even if nothing seemed to go right.
I moved the garlic around in the heavy cast iron Dutch oven then added some onions. I turned down the heat and let it soften up before adding two cans of whole tomatoes. I put in a dash of wine, some salt and pepper, and let that cook down for a while. I opened my refrigerator and took a bottle of beer from the back, cracked it open, and took a long drink.
“Damn, boss,” Gino said as he poked his head into the room from the hallway. “Shit smells good.”
“I know,” I grunted. “You done for the day?”
“Yeah, heading home.”
“All right. If you hang around for a little longer, you can have some.”
He grinned. “Nah. I appreciate that. But I got a date.”