THE CALL FROM the Scarfo family came less than twenty-four hours after Nix and I left Tim with his nuts kicked in and Valerie with a knife in her stomach. I wonder why so fast? It came by way of a direct call to Nix’s personal phone, which surprised us both a bit, because it meant they had taken the time to look into who Nix is and figure out a way to get his personal information. If they have his phone records, then what else do they know about him? How about me?
We put those worries aside for now, because as Nix told me when he hung up, it was time to have a sit-down with Tim’s uncle, Dante Rossi. Nix got the call at ten o’clock the night after we had our little talk with Tim, and the man on the other end of the phone was the consigliere to Angelo Scarfo, a guy by the name of Tony Belinelli, who has been a part of the Scarfo family for nearly all of his sixty-two years of life. That’s the thing about dealing with mob families, their loyalty is unbreakable because they’ve been a part of their thing for so long. For them, the gangster life is passed down generation to generation. A guy who’s sixty-two like Tony isn’t going to budge from whatever he has his mind set on, and we have to know that going in. They’re a hard-headed lot, the Italian families, so if you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, it could be night-night for you and whatever you’ve got planned. They don’t mess around, and we won’t underestimate them. Be that as it may, we’re not going to take any crap from them either.
Tony was brief, according to Nix, and told my right-hand-man that Dante wanted to have a sit-down with us as soon as possible to discuss “ongoing matters,” which we know is the Hyperion money, the fact that I attacked Tim and broke two of his fingers, and my operation as a whole. Tony didn’t go into more detail than that, because the line was unsecure, and the Italians are nothing if not professional. They don’t make many mistakes. In fact, if it wasn’t for snitches, not a single mob boss would’ve ever gotten caught throughout La Cosa Nostra history. They’re that good. Their problem is that there is always a weak link who ends up giving the police everything they need to take down their top guy. I guess that’s a pretty big problem to have, and it’s one I plan on avoiding forever.
Other than that brief description of what we’d be discussing, Tony only gave Nix a time and location, and informed him who would be attending the meeting from their end—only Tony himself, and Dante Rossi. That leads us to the here and now, and unlike the eager and enthusiastic feeling I had before the Hyperion job went to shit, I’m calmer now, seated in the driver’s seat of my brand new, burgundy Rolls Royce Wraith. The tan interior of the car is a beauty, and I always feel like I’ve really made it when I sit my fancy ass inside this four-hundred-sixty-two-thousand-dollar sex machine, but today I have different feelings. Today I feel cautious.
No money will change hands today. No surprise there. When I think about how this whole thing will go, I expect Dante to try to haggle me a bit, try to negotiate and strike some sort of deal with us in exchange for the money. That won’t go well. The money from Hyperion belongs to me and my crew. The plan that Dante’s crew executed was my plan on steroids. They took what was mine, and I have no problem telling Dante that to his face. I’d tell that to Angelo Scarfo himself.
As we wait outside the restaurant, I can see two white tables in front of the entrance, right underneath the purple cloth overhang in front of the doors. Each table has two white chairs with green seat cushions facing one another, which is where we’ll be seated for today’s little conference. Nix and Tony will sit at one table, and Dante and I will sit at the table directly next to them with Nix and I on the same side. I’m not surprised to see that this whole thing will be taking place right out in the open, in front of the restaurant only a few feet away from the street, at noon. This is a business deal, and Italians like to discuss business over a meal. I’m not exactly feeling hungry, and I can tell from Nix’s silence that he’s as anxious as I am. This is the big time, and both of us feel ready to step up to the plate. Just as I take a breath and let it out, I see a black Mercedes with black rims pull up and park behind my car. Right away, I know it’s Dante. Game time.
The first to exit the Mercedes and step out into the sun is Tony Belinelli. He’s about five-foot-eight with a balding head that holds nearly no hair where the front of his hairline should be. Most of what’s left of his hair is hanging out in the back half of his head like it’s afraid to move any closer to his chubby, scowling face. The man looks absolutely miserable, with bags under his eyes like he just got done drinking an hour or so ago, and his mouth has the look of a clown with a never-ending frown. It’s like his smile has been turned upside down, and as funny as that may seem, I know Tony will gladly slice a man’s throat, so I don’t laugh when I see his hairless face. The man is wearing a typical black suit with a black tie, not even trying to hide the gangster appearance as he closes the driver’s door, just as the passenger door pops open.
Out of the black-on-black Mercedes steps Dante Rossi. Standing at six-foot-one, Dante is close to two-hundred pounds with longer hair that hangs down and has a tendency to cover his eyes, so he has to give his head a little swish to move it aside. Dante goes against the Italian mafia grain and actually has hair on his face in the form of a thin beard that runs along his jawline and comes together under his chin. Admittedly, Dante is a good-looking guy at fifty-two years young, with eyes that are so lightly colored that they almost look gray. He’s rocking a white button-up shirt with the top two buttons undone, and just like Tony, I know a killer when I see one. Dante didn’t become underboss to Angelo Scarfo at the age of fifty-two overnight. He’s done a lot of dirt in his life, and usually that would make us friends, but we grew up in different walks of life, so today we’ll have lunch together as enemies. When Nix first mentioned the Scarfo family to me in front of his house the night I sliced his dad’s earlobe off, I never would’ve thought that he and I would be having lunch with them, on the same level as them in this criminal underworld we live in. My how the times have changed!
The two Italian men stand next to their car looking directly into the back window of my car, waiting for us to get out and show we’re not trying to ambush them. They should know we’re not that stupid. I want my money, I’m not trying to start a war—yet.
I look over at Nix and he looks at me, both of our faces stone cold. It’s me who smirks, and I swear my smirk puts us both at ease. This is a big moment, but we still have to be who we are. We have to be the kids who clawed their way out of Strawberry Mansion with no help whatsoever. Nix grins back at me to let me know he’s ready, and at the same time, both of us get out. The doors to the Wraith are suicide doors, so they open on the opposite end of a normal car door as the two of us step out together. Nix straightens the jacket on his dark gray suit, smoothing out his black tie as he closes the door and steps towards the setup in front of the restaurant. I look back at Dante as I run my hand down the length of my black button-up. Unlike him, I have the entire top half of my shirt completely unbuttoned, exposing my bare, hairless chest and the diamond-crown-wearing grim reaper tattoo that covers it. I see Dante glance down at the ink as I look away from him and make my way to the table to sit next to Nix. A second later, Tony and Dante are seated in front of us, eyes locked with ours. They’re all business, and so are we. I could scream from all of the intensity!
A waiter, wearing an untucked white button-up and a black tie, comes out to greet us before anyone at the table says a word. We’re locked into intense stares even as we begin to place our orders. Dante orders the cliché of spaghetti and meatballs with a glass of water, while Tony chooses not to have anything but water. I’m a little surprised at Dante’s order. His entire demeanor is tranquil, and he must be really comfortable to be eating a meal at a time like this. Nix and I, on the other hand, know that this is a business deal, and the two of us follow Tony’s lead and just get water, which is brought out quickly in wine glasses along with a basket of steaming bread before even one word is uttered at the table. After what seems like forever, it’s Dante who breaks the silence.
“Mr. King,” he says with a hint of a smile. “We finally meet. You have quite the reputation.”
Now it’s my turn to smile, but mine is from ear to ear.
“How nice of you to notice,” I say, leaning forward with my forearms on the table. The sleeves of my button-up are rolled up just enough to show the flame-covered crown on my left forearm that I got when I was a teenager, and the crying clown on my right forearm that I got two years ago. Dante, who has no tattoos per the Italian mob’s customs, looks down at my ink and then lift his eyes back up to meet mine. His face carries the look of a man who’s trying to convince himself that he’s unaffected by what he sees in front of him. But I don’t believe he’s unaffected. I think he’s affected plenty, and it’s the fuel to the fire quietly burning inside of me.
“I have noticed,” Dante admits with a nod of his head, his long hair bouncing with the movement. “We’ve noticed you for a while now, even before you attacked my nephew and his wife.”
Wow. I had no idea that pretty little Valerie was Tim’s wife, but that information puts another smile on my face. No wonder the call from Dante came so fast. I hit home with that little stabbing act.
“Nothing personal with Timmy and his girl. Just business, you know. How’s Val doing, by the way?” I ask, smiling with my eyes at the thought of Valerie bleeding from her stomach and Tim lying on the ground clutching his nuts.
“She’s fine,” Dante replies, his face suddenly serious. “Our docs fixed her up and she’ll recover physically. Maybe not mentally, though. It was a bold statement, Solomon. You like to wreak havoc, and that’s the kind of thing that draws the wrong kind of attention.”
I smile again.
“Havoc, you say? I like to think of it as chaos, and yes, I do thrive in it. I bathe in it, I drink it down until I’m full from it and then piss it out onto others. You do, too. Your family has been wreaking havoc for generations. Has it not? You just do it quieter than me.”
“I suppose I could agree with that,” Dante answers, nodding again.
“Yes you could,” I snip, feeling serious all of a sudden. “The difference between us though, is that I crave the chaos and hate the quiet. I wanna be loud, I wanna be seen, and I want the world to know that it’s me who brings the chaos. I create and control the flames, and there’s nothing anyone can do to extinguish them, because they’re mine.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Solomon,” Dante says as his meal is brought to him by the waiter. The spaghetti and meatballs looks delicious as steam and aroma rise from the plate. Dante thanks the waiter in Italian and picks up his fork before speaking again. “You seem to think that you’re invincible. You live your life at a hundred miles per hour as if you can never be stopped. You disrespect those who are traveling quietly on the same road as you, the ones going with the flow of traffic as you speed ahead like a madman.”
“Well, that’s what the kids are saying about me anyway, so why not play the part?”
“Maybe you are a madman, I don’t know, nor do I care,” Dante snips as he nonchalantly shoves a forkful of marinara-covered noodles into his mouth. “Regardless of what you think, you’re traveling on the same road as us, and when you drive too fast or too recklessly, you draw attention to the rest of us who are operating under the radar. We can’t have that.”
“Ah, so that’s what this is about,” I say as I lean back in my seat and sip my water. “You think my style of criminal activity is beneath yours. That’s pretty funny. I didn’t know one form of being a degenerate was better than another.”
“You make us look bad when you operate recklessly.”
“I don’t care how you look, because I don’t work for you! I’m not your subordinate, I don’t answer to you, so why the hell would I care how I make you look?” My skin is starting to heat up, and I can feel tiny prickles on my face. I have to let out a few deep breaths to calm myself.
“Like I said,” Dante answers coolly. “You’re on the same road as us, and your actions draw attention to us.”
“Why are we beating around the bush with this?” I ask, feeling fed up already. “Your actions at Hyperion Bank drew plenty of attention, if I remember correctly. Your guys had fully automatic weapons aimed at innocent people in the middle of Girard Avenue. If that’s not wreaking havoc, I don’t know what is.”
“Yes, the Hyperion job was a bit messy for us, but it was necessary to make a point.”
“Make a point?”
“We needed to show you that we can take from you, whatever we want, whenever we want,” Dante replies, his face suddenly confident and smug. “Because you’re not invincible, Solomon.”
“You’re a brave one, Dante,” I say as I take another sip of water. “I have to commend you on that. I mean, look at you! Sitting there shoving spaghetti into your ugly mouth as if you’re in front of a child who isn’t on your level. That’s crazy to see, and it’s new to me. But nonetheless, you’re gonna give me what I want. You owe me a lot of money.”
“Cazzate,” he snips, and I frown. “It means bullshit, idiota. We don’t owe you a dime. You should know by now that you only get what you take in this lifestyle. You didn’t take it, so you have no claim to it.”
“You planted a mole in my outfit and stole our plans to rob Hyperion’s truck,” I say between clenched teeth. “You stole the whole idea and how to pull it off from me, so I’m claiming all of it, and you’re gonna give it to me.”
Dante looks over at Tony, who hasn’t even moved a muscle. The pudgy man is sitting there with his arms folded and his head low while his eyes are locked on me. He looks at me like he hates me, and the feeling is mutual, so I glare back at him, daring him to do something.
“We didn’t come here with unrealistic expectations, Mr. King,” Dante says, looking back at me. “We’re prepared to bargain with you.”
“That’s wonderful news, except it’s a waste of time, because I’m not here to bargain. I want my money.”
“We understand.”
“I don’t think you do.”
“We’ll give it to you,” Dante says before shoving another forkful into his mouth and wiping the sauce off of his chin with a napkin. “But there’s one condition.”
I glance at Nix momentarily, then back to Dante as he continues.
“We’ll give you every cent of the money from the Hyperion job, and you can take it to spend on whatever stupid, flashy merde you like. However, you have to leave Philadelphia. For good.”
I look over at Nix again, and just before I look back at Dante, I burst out laughing. I can’t believe this asshole would think he could coax me out of my own city. I grew up here, this is my city, and there isn’t a man in this world who could make me leave.
“Wow, I knew you were ballsy, I didn’t know you were funny too!” I laugh again, slapping the table with a loud bang that makes all the dishes rattle. I can see the unease finally starting to wash over Dante’s face. He’s watching me, wondering if I’ve lost it right here at the table. He wasn’t kidding when he said my reputation precedes me. He thinks I’m crazy just like the rest of them, and my laughter makes him agitated. I like that he’s agitated.
“That’s the deal, Solomon,” he says loudly to be heard over my continuing laughter. “Laugh all you like, but that’s it, and it’s the best we’re willing to offer, especially after what you did to my nephew. Take it or leave it.”
Suddenly, I stop laughing and slam my fist on the table, my face as serious as ever.
“Oh I’ll leave it, Dante! Because you came into my house and stole from me. I don’t give a single shit about Tim or his wife. The only reason I’m not putting a multitude of bullet holes into you and your fat friend is because Nix here asked me not to, and I decided to listen to him. You do not tell me what I’ll do. No one does.”
Dante and I fall into an intense staring contest as he locks his grayish eyes on mine and totally stops blinking. For thirty seconds straight, there’s nothing but the sound of cars slowly driving by and our breathing as background noise. He can’t stand me, I’m sure he’d like to see me dead, and the irony of it all is that I want the same fate for him. I’ve been sick of the Scarfo family since Nix first told me to slow down because of them. I’d like nothing more than for them to be out of our way, but making that happen is a lot easier to say than it is to do. As pissed as I am, I know I can’t do anything drastic at this meeting. But that doesn’t mean something drastic won’t be done in the future.
“Let me assure you of something, Mr. King,” Tony Belinelli finally speaks up after clearing his throat to break the silence. His voice is like gravel, low and husky with a certain growl characteristic that’s annoying. He sounds like he’s been smoking fifty cigarettes a day since he was two years old. “We’ve been doing this a long time. We’ve been in this life since before either of yous were born. We wouldn’t be sitting at this table if we hadn’t already looked into you and your crew, and that includes the guys you’ve only used for jobs once. On behalf of Angelo Scarfo, I advise you to take the money and go. You don’t want to open a door you won’t know how to close, and Mr. Scarfo doesn’t want blood in the streets if he can avoid it. So, once again, I ask that you please take some time to consider the deal. You don’t have to decide right now. We understand it’s a painful decision, considering both of yous have lived here your whole lives, starting out in Strawberry Mansion. Please, take your time and think about it.”
“There’s nothing to think about,” I snap back, glaring at Tony. “This is my city, my home, and I ain’t leaving.”
“Are you sure you wanna do it like this, Solomon?” Dante asks in his Italian accent, as he sets his silverware down and leans back in his seat. “Angelo Scarfo is seventy-one years old, he’s seen things you can’t even dream of. Me, I’m fifty-two, and I’ve been in this life since I’m thirteen. I’ve seen things I wish I wouldn’t have, and done even crazier things. We don’t have to go down this road. But just know this, refusing to take the deal could cause a war in the streets. You don’t want that, and neither do we. But, we’re willing to take it there if it’s necessary.”
These mob guys have a lot of balls, and with every passing second, I want more and more to saw those balls off with a dull butter knife.
After a second to act as though I’m considering their offer, I turn to Nix, who hasn’t done anything but listen to this garbage. He looks back at me in anticipation of what I might say, knowing me so well.
“Let me ask you something, Nix,” I begin. “Are you afraid of the Scarfo family? Do you think we should allow ourselves to be run out of our own city?”
Without a second of hesitation, Nix replies.
“I haven’t ever been afraid of anybody my entire life, and even though I respect what the Scarfo family has done in this city for so long, there isn’t a chance in hell I’d take the money and run. My mother still lives here in the house I bought for her five years ago. I would never leave her behind just to make Angelo Scarfo happy. It’ll never happen.”
“Music to my ears, just like I knew it would be,” I reply before turning back to Dante and Tony. “You asked me if I wanted to do it like this, Dante, and my answer is yes. I’d love to do it this way. You’re right, I’m twenty-five years old, young and out of control! You said I had a reputation, but you obviously don’t take it seriously, because if you did, you never would’ve even considered asking me to leave my home. If you want to go to war with me instead of share the wealth in this big city, then bring your tanks and the full force of your army, because the only running I’ll be doing will be towards you to cut your fucking head off. Now, give me my money, or I’m gonna come to your house and take it.”
Dante and Tony stare at me with mixed, indecipherable expressions. In their eyes is a cross between anger, fear, and shock. This family has been doing business a long time, and I’m guessing they’re not used to people standing up to them. When someone in the Scarfo family says leave town, you pack your bags and get out before they kill you, it’s always been as simply as that. Over the years, as Nix and I were coming up in this city, I’ve known guys who’ve packed up and left town out of the blue, out of fear that someone in the Scarfo family would bring misery into their house. I’ve also heard of guys flat out disappearing without a trace, no one knowing where they went, but everyone knowing where they went, knowing they’re gone for good. So, this has to be off-putting for these two lifelong gangsters. Seeing their uneasiness now, I’m sure of it—I’ve pushed their buttons. Little ole me! Solomon King from Strawberry Mansion has managed to rattle the cage of the underboss of the Scarfo family! Laughter bubbles in my stomach and I have to force it to stay down.
Dante lets out a breath through his mouth, sipping his water before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a wad of cash in a platinum money clip. He pulls out a fifty and drops it on the table, a hefty tip considering his meal was only twenty bucks and the rest of us had water.
“Here’s how this works,” Dante says. “We’ll give you a few days to think our offer over. After a few days, we’ll meet up again and see what you decide. Capiche?”
“How many times do I have to say the same thing to you people?” I reply as Dante and Tony both stand up to leave. “The decision has already been made. I want my money, Dante.”
“Okay, Solomon,” Dante answers as he wipes his mouth one last time with his napkin before dropping it on top of his plate, and the two of them head for their car. “We’ll talk again soon.”
“I want my money, Dante!” I say again, but I’m ignored as the two made men climb into their black Mercedes and slowly drive away.
“Well, that was interesting,” Nix says. “You know what this means, right?”
I let out a loud whoosh of air.
“What’s that, Nix?”
“Something’s gonna happen before we meet with them again,” Nix replies. “That’s how this works. They’re gonna show us something, then call us back to the table to see how we react to it. We need to be ready.”
“I’m always ready, Nix,” I answer, sipping my water one last time as I stare at the tail lights of the Mercedes driving away from us. “Always.”