I wait for him to lecture me on my outburst, but to my surprise he gets right to business—a sure sign that our time is truly up.
The first matter we discuss is the hit he’s orchestrating once he’s officially transferred and what it means for me on the streets. He wasn’t kidding about putting men in place to protect but Violet and Gina. He’s expecting a blood bath.
He also advices me to get rid of Rienzi which surprises me, but according to him, Rienzi can’t be trusted. As soon as Joaquin’s plane hits the tarmac, Rienzi is gone. It’s just a matter of who pulls the trigger.
When I get my chance to talk, I bring him up to speed on everything that’s gone down since we last spoke. I tell him how I checked in on his wife and how Anthony hates my guts for taking a job he feels should’ve gone to him. We cover the docks and the longstanding relationship the Pastore family has with the Longshoremen’s Association. Lastly. we discuss is the Satan’s Knights motorcycle club. Of all the fucking surprises my uncle has thrown at me, his devotion to the leather clad hooligans definitely takes the cake. I don’t know what the fuck is so special about Jack Parrish and his club. He’s a fucking lunatic for one, and he has made it perfectly clear that he wants absolutely nothing to do with me. But the devil worshipping nutcase is all aces in Uncle Vic’s book. It’s almost comical, they’re complete opposites and yet you can tell each man has respect and admiration for the other. I, on the other hand, think Jack is a dick and I can’t wait for the day I don’t have to deal with him, but I made a promise to my uncle and so long as he’s breathing I’ll play nice with Parrish.
“If that’s all…” His voice fades and I lift my head.
“Actually, I wanted to ask you a question. Does the name Vladimir Yankovich ring any bells?”
Uncle Vic’s eyebrows knit together.
“The Russian?” he scoffs, dismissing the name with a wave of a hand. “He’s a cunt. Years ago, he tried to make a name for himself. He’s all about drugs so you know how that went. It makes sense with me being in here, that he would try to make another play.”
“Maybe he’s not a cunt no more,” I suggest. “Guys got a big operation according to Mitch.”
“And you’ve got an empire,” he volleys, glaring at me. “Get rid of him.”
I open my mouth to argue, but the words die on my tongue as the guard calls out, “Time’s up Pastore, wrap it up.”
Uncle Vic turns his head slightly, eyeing the correctional officer for a moment before he drags his gaze back to mine.
“Well, this is it, kid,” he says. “There’s never enough time is there?”
That familiar tightness in my throat returns and it threatens to suffocate me. The minute he walks out of this room, I’m a changed man. I’m no longer the acting boss of the Pastore family. I’m the motherfucking don.
Swallowing, I do my best to remain cool, calm, and collected.
“I suppose there’s not,” I reply hoarsely.
“Do me a favor?”
“Of course.”
The legs screech across the linoleum and he pauses, bracing both hands on the edge of the table before he stands.
“One more thing,” he starts, and I lift my eyes to his. “In your rise to power, don’t forget to make a life for yourself. In the end, you’ll regret it. You’ll wish you had more time to love and be loved.”
He winks at me and as he walks away, I realize two of the most powerful men I’ll probably ever know, have given me somewhat of the same advice.
It’s not the power that makes the man.
It’s what he goes home to.
It’s his heart.
Luckily, I found mine in the nick of time.
Chapter 28
Rocco Spinelli
Walking past the barbed wire fence that cages in the federal prison, I reach for my pack of smokes. As I pull a single cigarette out with my teeth, I think about Uncle Vic’s parting words. But I don’t dwell on them, I don’t have a chance because Rienzi is standing beside my car with his usual posse of old timers behind him. I wonder if Uncle Vic expects me to whack these guys too. I’m not against it. In fact, wiping the slate clean and starting anew may be the way to go. That saves me the hassle of looking over my shoulder and trying to decipher who I can trust and who is sharpening the knife to stick in my back.
Tossing the cigarette onto the asphalt, I crush it with the sole of my Italian loafer and fix Rienzi with a glare.
“What are you doing here?” I question.
“We’ve got a problem,” he declares.
That seems to be his favorite phrase or the only one he fucking knows. Makes you wonder if all these so-called problems are even real. I keep my eyes on Rienzi as I unbutton the top two buttons of my dress shirt.
“You going to elaborate, or should I guess what the fuck the problem is?”
“Micky won’t sign the papers,” he replies.
When Uncle Vic’s plan became public knowledge and Rienzi took the role of my acting underboss, he and I were going through the list of people who held outstanding debts to Uncle Vic. Micky was on the list. The guy owns a garden center in Staten Island. It’s a total fucking failure and his books are in the red. But there’s potential in every fucking disaster and that’s exactly why I paid Micky a visit and told he had ten days to pay his debt otherwise he’d have to sign the business over to me. Sure as shit, ten days came and went and the motherfucker didn’t have my money. I couldn’t just push Micky out. I needed a paper trail in case the cops decided to break my balls. So, I got on the phone with my lawyer, David Schwartz, and had him draw up the papers.
All Micky needs to do is sign on the fucking dotted line. His debt gets squashed and I get a legit business out of the deal. Not to mention access to the landfill—a perfect opportunity to get rid of waste, like Rienzi’s body when I’m done with him.
Cracking my knuckles, I brush past him and start for my car. With Bruno driving Violette to and from the Academy, Johnny is acting as my chauffer today. He quickly rushes to open the back door as I pause and glance back at my soon-to-be dead underboss.
“Micky’s going to have to wait until after I meet with my sister,” I say more to myself than to anyone else. Christ, if there’s anything I dread, it’s any kind of meeting with Gina. But I’ve put it off for too long. Come to think of it, as my acting underboss, Rienzi should’ve warned me that she could be in danger. Actually, he should’ve taken the initiative and already have a guard placed on her. And while we’re at it, he should’ve realized I moved Violet in with me and demanded she have security detail too.
“Starting tomorrow I want Johnny guarding my sister at all times,” I tell Rienzi before slicing my eyes to Johnny. It should be noted the poor bastard looks livid. I don’t blame him. He’s going to have his fucking hands full. “You’re gonna have to make yourself scarce until I can get her to agree to a bodyguard.”
“Great,” Johnny mutters. “Not a hard feat for someone who is six- three and two hundred and twenty pounds. She’ll never know I’m there.”