THE VP IS a fancy American restaurant smack dab in the middle of Center City West. It serves what you’d expect to see at a Ruby Tuesday or something similar: amazing steaks, fantastic burgers, fresh seafood, and a bar stocked with every type of liquor you can think of. If Club Asylum is our home, then The VP is our home away from home, and it’s owned by Mr. Nix Malone himself.
There’s nothing like legit money when you’re involved in a life of crime. Every mob guy knows this, which is why they all invest in something legal that can’t be taken away by the feds if they get raided or shaken down. Nix, always a fan of the nineties mob life, followed suit and had The VP built shortly after we transitioned out of Strawberry Mansion. He built The VP—also known as The Vice President—I built Club Asylum. I’m a little more on the overprotective side, so I built the Box inside my club to keep out nosey people and cops. Nix, on the other hand, wanted The VP to be just another place where people with fat wallets could come spend their money on a thirty-five-dollar steak and seventy-dollar lobster without wondering who the tatted up lowlifes in the bulletproof glass case are. His place doesn’t have the protective measures mine does, but it’s an elegant, cushy little number that never fails to be packed to the brim with paying customers who only spend their money at five star joints. Nix, of course, did it the best way possible—he’s the owner, not the operator, so he sits back and watches his restaurant make money for him and collects a fat check at the end of every month. He doesn’t deal with payroll or managing the joint a single hour of the day, but when he comes in, he’s got the VIP section locked down without question. So, guess where we’re sitting tonight.
The sit-down with Dante and Tony was yesterday afternoon, and Nix and I are still pissed at the audacity of those two assholes. Nonetheless, we knew it was in our best interest to alert everyone in the crew about how the conversation went so that they’re aware of the situation. When your money gets stolen right in front of you, you’d like an update on when you can expect to have it paid back. That kind of thing doesn’t slide in our lifestyle. So, Nix and I called a meeting with Rock, Marcell, Ricky, and Donny to discuss where we are with the situation.
Nix and I arrive first as usual. When we walk through the entrance, the hostess immediately recognizes Nix and rushes to take us to the back of the restaurant. The woman’s red hair sways behind her as she walks with an extra pep in her step, wearing black pants with a white shirt and gold bowtie. She leads us through the crowded main floor, and I always make sure to take a minute to check out how nice Nix’s place is. Black, white, and gold are your primary colors: black walls, black leather seats, long white table cloths dangling over the sides of the tables, and a black and gold patterned carpet to really make it all pop. Even the golden-framed pictures on the walls fit into Nix’s scheme, which he won’t admit he designed himself before relinquishing control to his managers. It’s a beautiful place, and once we pass through the main floor, we enter through two black sliding doors with frosted glass blurring the vision of anyone trying to get a peek inside, and we find ourselves in the luxurious VIP section. The VIP is a fancier version of the main floor, with thick, plush, black leather seats that wrap halfway around the table before stopping to make room for two separate leather chairs. At the end of the long seats stands a gold pole with a black bucket at the top, specifically for keeping bottles of champagne on ice. When Nix and I sit in the separate chairs, there’s already a bottle of Cristal in the bucket waiting for us. Yeah, we do it big. The days of frantically searching through Whitney’s kitchen for scraps to eat are over.
Nix and I make ourselves comfortable as a waitress—this one black, and thick in all the right places with jet black hair—pops the cork on the Cristal and pours glasses for us. She flashes an inviting smile at me before setting the bottle back in the bucket and making her way to the kitchen. Just as she is out of my line of sight, I see Marcell being led through the sliding doors, followed by Rock, Donny, and Ricky. Marcell is wearing an all-black outfit with white shoes to set it off. Rock is sporting his usual tight-fitting, long sleeve sweater, while Donny and Ricky are doing their thing with two different combinations of red and white flannel shirts with Doc Martins. Our crew complete, Nix and I greet them and wait for all of the orders to be taken by the perfectly thick waitress before addressing tonight’s topic.
“So, it’s been an interesting few days, gentlemen, and let me start by apologizing,” I begin. “When I call a crew to do a job, I expect it to go without a hitch. I don’t like distractions or working with people who aren’t focused enough to pull off a job the right way. The whole thing with Hyperion was supposed to be big, and all of us had to sit there and watch it be stolen from us without knowing what the hell was going on. Nix and I don’t stand for that kind of thing, so we took the liberty of doing a little digging to find out who the hell hit the Hyperion job just seconds before we were supposed to. I’ll let Nix explain the rest, since he’s the mastermind behind tracking down our little mole.”
“Mole?” Rock says with a deep canyon between his eyebrows.
“Yeah,” Nix answers. “So, as it turns out, Tim Sandusky was a mole for the Scarfo family.”
“Whoah,” Marcell bellows with raised eyebrows behind his glasses. “Did you just say the Scarfo family? Seriously?”
“Yeah,” Nix answers.
“As in Angelo Scarfo?” Donny says.
“Yes, now listen,” Nix replies. “It turns out, Tim Sandusky was sent to infiltrate our outfit. It just so happened that he came at a time when Solomon was trying to get a job done involving Detective Anthony Mason, who’s also on Angelo’s payroll. All three of them colluded together and pulled a scheme to trick Solomon and me into trusting Tim. After he gained our trust and the details of the Hyperion job, Tim sold the plans to his uncle, Dante Rossi.”
“Holy shit!” Rock barks. “Tim is Dante Rossi’s nephew? Never would’ve seen that one coming. Wow.”
“Yeah, that makes three of us,” Nix says, frowning just from the thought of how I let us get played by a young rookie like Tim. “Anyway, so it was Dante who took our plans from Tim and beefed them up. He pulled off our job right in front of us on purpose. He wanted Solomon and me to see that they had one up on us.”
“Why would they do that?” Donny asks, which causes his brother to frown.
“Why do you think, dummy,” Ricky snips. “It’s a competition thing. Angelo must see you guys as a threat. You don’t see him going after any other criminals in the city. If they wanted to take your job, it’s because they think you’re becoming too big. When you think about it, it’s kind of a compliment.”
“Yeah, so we’ve heard,” Nix replies. I sit back in my seat and listen to Nix fill in the rest of the story. “So, once we got this information, Solomon forced Dante into a sit-down yesterday, after breaking Tim’s fingers and stabbing his wife in the stomach with a switchblade.”
“Holy shit, Solomon! You killed the dude’s wife?” Donny chirps with a wide grin, to which I just smile.
“Nah, she lived, I think,” Nix says. “At the sit-down, Dante offered to give us the money they stole, but there were conditions. They want Solomon and me out of Philly for good.”
“Oh, those greedy bitches!” Rock snaps. “They can’t stand the idea of someone being able to come up if it makes them look like they’re not the top dogs anymore. Assholes!”
“Yeah, they claim it’s because they don’t like the way we conduct business, which tends to be loud and draw a lot of attention, but that’s just how we do things, we ain’t changing for them, or anybody else for that matter. Anyway, when they told us to take the money and go, Solomon shot them down,” Nix explains. “So, they claim to be giving us some time to think about the offer, and after a few days, we’ll hear back from them to meet up again. I’m sure you all know what that means.”
“Yeah, they’re gonna come after you,” Rock answers for the group. “They’re gonna show force.”
“Exactly,” Nix says, followed by chugging the rest of his champagne. “That’s why we wanted to meet with you all. When they set up the sit-down, they called my personal cell. I don’t give that number out to almost anybody, so that means they’re digging on us, and if they’re doing it to me, they might be doing it to all of you, too.”
“Shit,” Marcell exclaims.
“Yeah, so we need all of you to be on your toes over the next forty-eight hours or so,” Nix goes on. “I don’t know what the hell to expect, but we all know how deep Angelo’s operation goes. They have their fingers in a lot of shit, and they have tons of people on their payroll, including cops and judges. Italian restaurants are probably a no-go right now, at least until we hear from Dante.”
“Damn, man! I love Italian food!” Rock says, smacking his large hand on the table.
“Hey, we’ve got pasta here!” Nix replies.
“You ain’t got no Italian cooks back there!” Rock fires back with a grin.
“Don’t be knocking my cooks, Rock,” Nix replies with his own smile.
“Hey!” I snap, making everyone stop in their tracks. “Before we get loose and start acting like everything is hunky-dory, do you all understand what Nix just said about being careful? They already reached out and snatched a job away, and they did it right in front of us. I hate them with a furious passion, but I’m not dumb enough to underestimate them, and you shouldn’t be either. Before you relax and indulge on Nix’s food and alcohol, I need to know you’re aware of what could happen.”
The four men look around at each other, sensing my seriousness. I’m not sure how else to convey the enormity of this situation, but slowly the four of them nod their heads.
“We got it, Solomon,” Rock says.
“Yeah,” Marcell agrees. “We’ll keep it low key until you say otherwise.”
“Good,” I say to them all. “Now let’s eat.”
An hour and a half can go by in the blink of an eye when you’re having fun. That’s what happens when the six of us start drinking and having conversation in the VIP of Nix’s The VP restaurant. Before any of us knows what’s going on, there’s multiple bottles of Cristal on the table, surrounded by countless plates of nearly half the dishes on the menu. We’ve gone all out tonight, feeling like the kings of the world that we are.
At one point, I even saw Rock get up from the table and follow one of the waitresses into the bathroom. After ten minutes behind closed doors, he came back out looking awfully satisfied with a shit-eating grin on his face. I also couldn’t help but notice the waitress wiping her mouth when she came out of the bathroom. I’ll let you guess what happened in there.
At the end of the night, about an hour before The VP is supposed to close, Nix stands up with a champagne glass filled with Cristal. He raises the glass and taps it with a fork to get our attention.
“Hey, listen up, you assholes!” he chirps, slurring his speech a bit. “We’re all a little faded tonight, but like we discussed before, when we leave here, we all gotta be on our game. I don’t want to hear about anybody in this room found dead or some shit on the news tomorrow. Got it?”
“Yeah, yeah!” Ricky mocks, raising his glass. “You just make sure that Italian bastard gives us the money they stole from us, otherwise, me and my brother will find where they stashed it and go get it ourselves!”
“Damn right!” Donny agrees with a raised glass of his own.
“Let’s toast to the good life, gentlemen,” Nix says as the rest of us raise our champagne glasses and toast with him.
“To the good life!” I yell with a smile, before knocking back the rest of the golden liquid in my glass.
That’s when I hear the first gasp through the doors blocking us off from the main seating area. The gasp is followed by shuffling, and then more gasps. The rest of the crew notices me turning suddenly serious, and they follow suit, shifting their heads towards the closed VIP doors to hear what the hell is going on. There’s more chattering now, and it’s clear something is happening. You can feel the intensity picking up as a sudden calmness and quiet flows through the restaurant, even though there’s still plenty of people in the main section.
“Nix, maybe you should go have a look,” I say to my partner, but before he can even agree with me, the VIP doors slide open. The redheaded hostess walks in first with a horrified look on her face, followed by Detective Anthony Mason, and at least ten uniformed cops.
“What the hell is this?” Nix snaps, still holding the champagne glass in his hands.
“Hey there!” Mason greets in a chipper voice. Just from the look on his dumb face, I know he’s about to drop a bomb on us. “Nice to see you, Nix. You too, Solomon. Looks like you boys have been having a party up in here, huh.”
“You really wanna do this right now, Mason?” I ask him as I rise to my feet and glare at the detective. He stands out amongst the group of cops because he’s the only one wearing a gray suit, while the rest are in their black uniforms.
“Solomon, I’m so sure!” Mason says with a smile. I don’t like his good mood. Something’s about to go down. “Hey, I’m glad you’re here, Solomon. I lost that ten grand you gave me. Know anything about that?”
I don’t have an answer, and I suddenly feel more vulnerable than I ever have. What the hell is he doing here with all these cops?
“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Mason continues. “We’ll get to that later. Right now, though, I’m here to serve a warrant.”
“What? A warrant for who? For what?” Nix snaps, his face melting into a full scowl. This is going to get bad real fast.
“I’m glad you asked, Nix. A warrant for Donny Fontane.”
“What the fuck?” Donny snaps as he stands up. “For what?”
“Hi, Donny!” Mason says as he starts to walk up to Donny. “For your involvement in the robbery at Hyperion Bank a few days ago.”
“Get the fuck outta here, man,” Donny yells. “I didn’t do that shit. That wasn’t me and you know it!”
“Do I?” Mason asks with a sly smile, and that’s when I realize what this is. This is Dante Rossi. “According to the anonymous tip we received—who also anonymously tipped us that you were having dinner here tonight—you had something to do with it, so I gotta take you in.”
“Anonymous tip my ass!” Ricky says now. He slams his fist on the table as Mason walks up to his brother, pulling handcuffs from his back pocket. “Get the hell away from my brother!”
In a flash, Ricky bolts in front of Donny to protect him, and then all hell breaks loose. Like a scene from a western movie, Mason quickly whips his hand to his side and removes a Taser from its holster, aiming it at Ricky. He pulls the trigger and the weapon lets out a pop that sends little white sticks with thin wires hanging from them into Ricky’s flannel shirt. Every muscle in Ricky’s body tightens as he falls to the floor in the fetal position.
“Bad idea, man!” Mason yells down at Ricky, but his voice is cut off when Donny punches the detective in the jaw, sending him stumbling backwards.
Mason drops the Taser and clenches his jaw, but Donny is running towards him with a bottle of Cristal in his hand at full speed. Mason steps back with a look of fear in his eyes as he braces for impact, because Donny’s coming too fast for him to pull his gun, but the impact doesn’t come. Instead, what comes is the sound of gunshots.
Pop!
Everyone freezes, except Donny, whose momentum is carrying him forward so he can’t stop even if he wants to.
Pop!
Blood splatters on the dishes in front of me as Donny’s body jerks with each flash of the weapon being aimed at him by a uniformed cop.
Pop, pop!
Donny’s body jerks two more times before falling to the floor next to his brother, who’s lying there clutching his chest where the Taser got him. As soon as I see the look on Donny’s face, I know he’s gone. Just like that. Here one second, gone the next, right in front of his brother.
“You motherfucker!” Ricky screams as he tries to get up, but the same uniformed officer who shot his brother is now right on top of him, pointing the hot barrel right between his eyes, daring him to move another muscle.
“Make me do it,” the cop says, glaring down at Ricky who now has tears in his eyes.
“Damn!” Mason says with a chuckle. “That got out of hand real fast! It always does when it comes to you, huh Solomon? Oh well. Alright, one of you call an ambulance for Donny, and Officer Lariosa, please take Ricky Fontane out of here for interfering with our arrest and assaulting a police officer.”
“He didn’t touch you!” Marcell shouts, but it’s pointless
“Ah, semantics,” Mason says with an arrogant shrug.
The cop who shot Donny, who I now know is Officer Lariosa, holsters his weapon before turning Ricky over and forcing his hands behind his back. He slaps cuffs on him and has another officer help bring him to his feet. Before we know it, Ricky is being dragged out of the restaurant.
Rock, Nix, Marcell, and I look down at Donny’s motionless body, and we can barely believe what we just saw. Once again, Dante Rossi has reached out and touched us without having to lift a finger, and the hatred I feel inside is on a level I didn’t even know I had.
“It didn’t have to be like this, Solomon,” Mason says as he steps over Donny’s body like it’s a dog in the street—like he means nothing. “This is on you, but what you need to remember here, is that it can get worse. Much worse.”
“You piece of shit,” Nix says in a low, hushed voice that’s dripping with anger.
“Don’t say too much,” Mason says, stopping him. “You wouldn’t want to threaten a police officer, would you? Not after what just happened.” Nix doesn’t answer. “I thought not. Have a good night, fellas.”
Without another word to us, Mason turns on his heel and walks out of the room, closing the sliding doors behind him. Some of the uniformed officers quickly usher the four of us out of an exit in the back of the restaurant so they can fix up the scene and bring Donny’s body out.
Before any of us could ever see it coming, Dante Rossi showed us what he can do. He just brought the war to us.