Target on Our Backs
Page 12

The guy guiding me stops on the outskirts, but I keep walking. There's no backing out now. It's a dining room of sorts, or more like a meeting space. A long mahogany table runs through it, chairs surrounding it.
Only four of them are filled.
One of the men, boss Frank Genova, waves toward the doors behind me. "Leave us."
Right away, the man obeys. Not surprising that Genova's taking the lead. It's his house this meeting is in. I just stand here, awaiting something. I'm not entirely sure how this is going to go.
Like I said, these meetings are rare.
Once the man vacates the room, Genova motions toward the table between us. "Gun."
I hold up my hands. "I don't have one."
His brow furrows. "You came unarmed?"
"I never carry a gun," I say, "but that doesn't mean I'm unarmed."
Everything's a weapon if you look at it the right way.
"Knives, then."
"None of those, either."
"Then what do you got?"
"Not much." I consider it for a moment. "Some spare change, a peppermint, my wallet... oh, and I've got a pen in my pocket."
He looks at me with disbelief. "A pen."
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a simple black ballpoint ink pen.
Probably cost a dollar.
"You gonna kill somebody with that?" he asks.
I shrug, setting it on the table. "You never know."
That seems to confuse him for a moment, as he stares at the pen, before he shakes it off. "It's just a formality anyway. Doesn't really matter. Go ahead, take a seat. Join us."
I sit down right across from them and regard Genova, the chairman of this defunct board, prepared to speak for everyone. I don't like the way he worded that.
Join us.
"I'm sure you know why you were called here this afternoon," he says, diving right into it. "We need to discuss the murder of Raymond Angelo."
Ray's hypothetical seat at the table is glaringly vacant. I half expected the new guy in town to already be filling his shoes, so to speak, but no… the chair's empty. Guess the fabled Scar has yet to be invited in.
Pity. I would've liked to meet him.
"I wouldn't call it a murder," I say. "It was more of an untimely death."
"That's an interesting way to look at it, Vitale, but it doesn't change the fact that a boss was killed. We can't have those kinds of things happening, you know. It's bad for business. Bad for order. People start forgetting where their place is and we're all in trouble. You get me?"
I nod.
"So you see how this is a problem for us," he continues. "You see how you killing a boss is bad news. See how we can't really tolerate it happening on our watch. It's nothing personal, you know, but..."
He trails off with a casual shrug of the shoulder, as if to say 'no hard feelings when we kill you for it'.
"With all due respect," I say. If I'm going to die today, I'm going to die. Nothing I do in this room will change their minds. "You call me here to talk about these rules, but where are you when rules are being broken every other day?"
One of the other bosses chimes in then. Michael Grillo. "What are you talking about?"
"Forgive me if I'm wrong, as I've never personally taken the vows, but don't you gentlemen lecture your men when they're brought in that women and children are never to be harmed? So where was the meeting when Raymond Angelo was out there hunting someone's wife and daughter?"
Grillo scowls. "And forgive me if I'm wrong, Vitale, but wasn't it you actually doing that hunting?"
He's got me there.
"I wasn't the one who gave the order," I say. "Ray was the one who planted that seed. If you put a man in charge that turns out to be a monster, you shouldn't be surprised when someone makes the monster go away. I killed Ray, and I don't regret it. I won't. He shot the woman I love right in front of my face."
Genova chimes in now. "Wasn't it Johnny Rita who did that?"
Anger surges through me, and maybe it's irrational, but I want to ring the man's neck for saying that name. "Karissa. Ray shot Karissa."
I don't know if he's truly dumb or he's just feigning ignorance, but a look of surprise passes over his face. "That's the woman you love, is it?"
"Are we here to discuss my relationship, Genova, or can we get back to business?"
My voice is sharp, but he laughs it off. "Yeah, you're right. I can't keep up with you kids. Hate 'em one day, love 'em the next. But I digress... I'll agree that Angelo, too, took some questionable action, so I can't say I blame you for what you did. Still... we can't tolerate those kinds of things, Vitale, so I'm warning you now: if you forget your place again, you'll have to be dealt with."
I don't like being threatened.
Talk is cheap.
I'd rather a man try to kill me than threaten my life.
At least in that case I can defend myself. Here, I just have to sit down and take it, nod my head like the submissive little soldier I don't have it in me to be.
The submissive little soldier they want me to be.
The one I've never been.
"And what about Ray's replacement?" I ask. "I can't help but notice he's absent from the meeting."
"Angelo hasn't been replaced yet."
I almost laugh at that.
The full metal jacket ammo from the AR-15 that lit up my father's deli just days ago tells me otherwise. Family in New York is dropping like flies. So what he means to say is they haven't voted, but Ray's most definitely been replaced.
And whoever he is, he's probably worse than the rest of them.
He doesn't ask permission.
He doesn't care about these rules.
Voting doesn't mean shit to him.
"Who is he, the new guy?" I ask. "Nobody seems to know much about him."
They look like they don't want to talk about this. The other three remain stone cold silent, while Genova at least pretends to humor me. "Scar, they call him. Young guy. Ruthless."
"How young?"
"About your age," he says. "Came from the south."
"Philadelphia?"
"Nah, much further south."
There isn't much of a family presence past the Mason-Dixon Line, so I'm not sure how southern he can be. I don't press it, though. I can tell I've already pried too much.
We don't ask questions in this business.
It's probably the biggest rule.
"Is that all?" I ask. "Am I free to leave?"
"Not yet," Genova says, folding his hands on the table in front of him. "Before you go, I want to talk to you about some business. Got a couple of jobs I need you to do for me."
Jobs.
Things I told Karissa I wasn't doing anymore.
"What kind of jobs?"
"Oh, you know... the usual."
The usual. "I'm not doing that anymore."
The men mutter amongst themselves. You see, when a man with a penchant for killing anyone who denies him asks you for a favor, well, it's kind of ballsy to say no to that… especially when that man just gave you a pass.