Chapter 15
I hated being disturbed, especially first thing in the morning, but my phone was ringing like crazy and I knew whoever it was, wasn’t going to wait. I was about to pick it up, when I heard a thumping on my door.
“Mierda!” I shouted out as both Juan and Diego appeared in my room, uninvited, Diego switching on the light without warning.
“You need to get dressed and get downstairs quickly. The gang’s waiting for you!” Diego commanded, as if this was his house and he was running things. I knew something was bad, and he meant by everyone’s presence, this was an intervention. It happened from time-to-time when a boss went off the rails. Everyone kicked in.
The truth be known, I wasn’t sleeping, I was lying in bed but mainly because I didn’t want to get up and face the world or even worse deal with Adrianna, my sweet temptation.
Before I could even respond or say anything, as quickly as Diego had entered the room, he left again.
“Sorry, jefe, it’s bad.” Juan followed Diego. I found myself speechless, lying in my empty bed, and the fucking painting above me now taunted me. I remembered what Adrianna said about now being able to sleep better without the painting giving her nightmares. It’d never bothered me before, and Adrianna had been the only woman who had ever slept in my bed. I had a suite at the Hilton; if I wanted to fuck a woman, I would take her there or my penthouse. Never my home and certainly not my bed. Diego knew this, he knew it was an invasion of my privacy. Something so dear to me, yet he’d rocked the boat the moment he brought Adrianna into it, and he hadn’t even fucking apologized. I had a bone to pick with him, but I would do it in time, not today.
I’d been in my room, the library, and on occasion the kitchen since having dinner with Adrianna; in between I would be checking my phone. Trying to figure out if Vedova Nera wanted Adrianna, but nothing. It was as if she wasn’t working for me anymore, but I had to be patient, it was a virtue, I never had to practice until now.
I hadn’t shaved in days, something I used to insist upon doing every morning. I’d somehow put it to the side. I put on one of my CK shirts, a white one, and some slacks. Everything I was wearing was unusual to me. I bought on the wing, if I wanted to have a meeting with a jock and needed him to feel I was one of them and not some Mexican. It could easily be done with a white shirt and slacks, they seemed to think I wasn’t a foreigner, but one of them simply by how I dressed, even if I did look different.
I sighed as I put on the clothes and then headed downstairs. I walked down to the conference hall, passing the library and hoping to bump into Adrianna.
Fuck!
I could take her if I wanted to, but then it wouldn’t be as much fun. I knew in time, it was exactly what she would do. I needed to be patient; that fucking word again.
I opened the conference door and the room was filled with smoke. Everyone knew I hated smoking in my house. They could do it outside, not indoors and certainly not in the conference room.
“Someone open the fucking window!” I waved, thinking someone would do it on command. I didn’t care who, I didn’t want to choke on the different scents of tobacco filling the room. Then again, I stopped as I realized it wasn’t tobacco, they were smoking something a lot stronger.
“Primo!” Marta waved at me. “Believe me, when Juan tells you what’s going down, you’ll need to fucking smoke this.”
“No. Hola. Como está? Nada…”
Diego piped up, “We’ve got no time for shit. We need a plan and quick; after all, this affects all of us and you caused the fucking storm.”
“Shit the fuck down, Diego, I’ve given you a fucking finger, and you've taken a leg. Remember who’s in charge. Me not fucking you!” I screamed because they’d lost sight of who was in charge, me and not them. Especially not Diego as much as he was trying to fill my shoes, the only way he could do once I was dead.
Frank, who was the voice of reason and the new member of our team.
“Qué? Qué pasó?” I barked as I brought the damn bottle of bourbon at the end of the conference room and bring it to the table and drink it, while recovering from my headache and hangover from last night.
“Mario está muerto!” Diego said, and this was when I remembered Frank was in the room, and he hated it when we switched to Spanish and he couldn’t keep up with the conversation.
I shook my head. “Mario’s dead. Keep to English for Frank. How?”
Diego wasn’t clean-shaven or even dressed up. Who would have thought he owned a plain black shirt or even matching jeans. His hair was a mess, and he had more shadow under his eyes than I did.
“Fuck, I need a damn glass,” he said as he stood, and then pulled his chair directly next to me.
“Ma. She found out Mario was spying for someone and killed him.”
Frank said, “So, she doesn’t know it's for Ricardo?”
Jose said, “No. Mario was found spying because he wasn’t good at whatever he was trying to do. Anyway, she caught him, he confronted her about his boyfriend, and then she killed him.”
I asked, “How do you know all this?”
He choked. “Who do you think she called to clean up the mess?”
Jose! Of course! He was the guy everyone called if they couldn’t trust their own people.
“Do you think she suspects I have something to do with it?” I asked, and then Diego suddenly dropped the glass he had in his hand, the glass shattering on the floor.
“Mierda!” I screamed out.
Juan said, “We don’t know.”
Diego shook his head. “What the fuck? It made no sense what you did. No sense at all. The only thing you can say is, does she know if I’m involved. What the fuck were you thinking in the first place, sending Mario to do such a job? I mean, someone like him. How did you think it was going to go down?”
I ignored his question. “You need to go clear up the fucking glass.”
He shook his head, kicked some of the broken glass my way and then stormed out of the room.
“Do you think he’s coming to clear it up?” I asked, waving my glass in the air.
Juan moved, and by his actions, I had a feeling he was going to do it for Diego.
“You’re fucked up, cuz. I thought it was a rumor, but when was the last time you slept?” Marta asked me, as she started walking towards me. I knew she came to clean the mess.
I shook my head. “Ní idea.”
Jose said, “Don’t worry, we’re going to stop Ma from finding out anything and sort it out. Right, Frank?”
Frank nodded his head on cue, and they both left the conference room. I knew what Jose and Frank would be up to, by sort it out, they meant they would deal with Ma. This was getting out of hand. I was sitting here, had used someone to kill their son, and I didn’t feel a thing. I couldn’t feel guilty about something I had nothing to do with; it wasn’t my fucking fault Mario had been careless.
“Primo, you need to get some sleep and get back to work,” Marta’s dark eyes lit up as she said it; she was trying to comfort me.
“I thought Diego was exaggerating, but I can see it is true.”
I choked. “What’s true?”
“You are not yourself. Pa is gone, but have you even thought about the funeral?”
Pa was dead and I was running around causing trouble. This could make a turf war and I can't say I liked the idea of it, but until his murderer was caught, I would do whatever I needed to do, even if it meant going back to Italy.
My phone chimed and I wondered if it was Diego for a split second. I glanced at it as Marta continued to smoke her pot. It was as if she couldn’t be bothered and getting high seemed to be her solution. I was getting a little high on the second-hand smoke because it was so fucking strong.
-One more week, be ready. V.
I sighed. “Good; at least there’s some good news today.”
Marta smiled as she put her weed out in my glass. “At least someone’s happy. A lot of blood will be shed tonight. I hope you rest easy.”
With her parting words, she was gone. I hated the fact both Diego and Marta were trying to blame me for this mess. We were all fucking animals who belonged in a zoo; this was the way things went down, one gang would cross another and then as a result of it, a war would break out. We were criminals, not fucking saints, they needed to grow a pair, wake-up and smell the fucking roses.