LAST NIGHT WAS intense, to say the least. In fact, I’m not even sure intense is a strong enough word to describe it. It was surreal, and now that it’s over and I’m within the comfort of my loft, it seems like it went by in a flash.
First, there was Reina showing up at the sit-down with Mr. Dead Man himself, Dante Rossi. I was flooded with all the emotions of seeing her again, and I had to jump from that to hitmen being sent to execute me and Nix at the private entrance of my own club. The next thing I know, guns are popping off, Nix is killing a guy, and I’m pushing my razor into some kid’s throat and dragging it across his flesh. That last part, let us not forget, happened after the kid admitted that it was Dante who sent him to kill us, proving that Reina was right about everything.
Now, here we are—back at home with a drink in my hand and the satisfaction of knowing that Dante Rossi has no clue about the storm coming his way. What could be better than having an enemy be in the dark about death creeping up on him? Actually, there’s an answer to that—the look of fear that’ll take control of his face as he sees me coming. That look will be the best thing yet.
After all the drama last night, Nix and I actually left the two bodies in the alley. We had to, of course, erase the footage from the security cameras pointing to the back entrance so that the cops wouldn’t know what actually happened. When they questioned us about the bodies behind the club, I told them I had no clue what they were talking about. Must’ve been some sort of mob beef that went down in the dark. “Had nothing to do with us, Mr. Police Officer, sir. Please investigate and keep my club safe from the violent hooligans in this city!”
The cops will investigate but they won’t come up with anything. When it’s mafia related, the cops that are on the mob payroll tend to help make those cases either end quickly, or disappear altogether. I imagine this one will be no different.
I do, however, hate that one of them got away. Dante sent three people, just like Reina said he would, and Nix and I handled two of them, but the third one lived to tell the story. I’m sure he ran right back to Dante and explained why he failed to kill us, which is why an Italian male body was found floating in the Delaware River, just under the Benjamin Franklin Bridge this morning. I could be wrong, but I imagine it went something like this: hitman runs back to Dante to explain that his friends were being slaughtered as he approached, so he tucked his tail between his legs and ran away like a coward before he could be killed too. Dante lost his mind and put a bullet between the hitman’s eyes before having another one of his goons toss his lifeless, cowardly body into the river. The mob isn’t subtle. You make a mistake, you sleep with the fishes, as they used to say—or still do . . . I don’t know. Who cares?
I wonder if Reina was there when it happened. I haven’t heard from her since she called to warn me, but I can’t help but wonder if she was there when the hitman made the mistake of going back to report what happened. Did she see it? Did she feel guilty knowing it was her that caused the guy’s death? Or, did she smile as Dante put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger? Everything in me hopes it was the latter.
The number Reina called from was blocked, so I have no way of getting back in touch with her, and I don’t know when she plans on contacting me again, but I don’t have time to wait around for that. I have to get moving, because now that Dante’s hitmen have been found and identified by police, he knows Nix and I are still alive, and he knows we’re aware it was him who sent them. I’m sure he feels safe and protected behind his curtain of La Costa Nostra, and he’ll be looking for another opportunity to strike, but he won’t get one. Nix and I won’t be visiting either of our establishments until this thing is finished, and unlike Dante, who’s riding solo in his war with me, I have a crew behind me that’s starving for revenge for what happened to Donny Fontane, and it just so happens that Ricky’s charges were dropped this morning. Time to get to work.
I look at the digital clock on the stove as I pour myself another half-glass of 1972 Port Finish Bourbon, and I realize I have a phone call to make. Now that Ricky’s out, we have to get down to business, because killing an underboss in the Italian mob will be no easy task, and I don’t have patience for mistakes like the ones Dante’s hitmen made. I demand efficiency, and unlike Dante, I plan on being present when the deed is done. I don’t have people killed on my behalf. If I want you dead, I’ll pull the trigger myself. It’ll be me who runs the blade across your throat. Even if I have Nix, or Rock, or Ricky set it up, in the end, I’ll be the last person you see. I put myself at risk when it comes to stuff like this, and I will not allow myself to be caught by police, so I need a crew who knows what they’re doing, and since the Hyperion job was stolen from my last crew, I’m going to use them to make this happen.
I sit down on my couch and send a text to Nix, telling him to set up a conference call with everyone who was involved in planning the Hyperion heist, and he texts me back ten minutes later, having contacted them all. My phone rings as Nix’s number pops up on the display, and I know it’s time for business.
“Alright,” I say upon answering. “Do we have everyone here?”
“I’m here,” Rock says in his usual low, baritone voice.
“We’re good,” Marcell answers next.
“Yep,” Ricky says, and I can tell from his voice that he’s still grieving from the loss of his brother, but I’m not worried—we’re going to make that right for him.
“Good,” I say to them after a sip of my drink. “We’ve had some developments since the last time we were all together at The VP. As if that night wasn’t bad enough, Dante has gone and made matters worse by ordering a hit on Nix and me. As we made our way into Club Asylum last night, three hitmen tried to come after us.”
“Motherfucker,” I hear Ricky whisper, either to himself or to the group, I’m not sure which.
“Wow, this guy just doesn’t quit,” Rock says.
“No, he doesn’t,” I reply. “Nix and I handled it, obviously, but we’re done wasting time. After what happened to Donny, and now this attempt on our lives, it’s time to make a move to get rid of this asshole for good. Now, you all know Dante’s position. He’s the underboss of the Scarfo family, so getting to him won’t be easy, and it won’t be without consequences. We need to be detailed and extremely thorough.
“Marcell, I need to you to look into absolutely everything you can about Dante Rossi. I want his social security number, his home phone, his cell phone, his home address, I want his mother’s freakin’ maiden name by the time you’re done. I need you to dig for the next seventy-two hours.”
“Okay, I got you,” Marcell says, sounding thrilled about his assignment. “I’m not questioning you or nothing like that, Solomon, but why seventy-two hours?”
“Because in four days, I’m going to kill Dante Rossi,” I answer with a smile none of them can see. The thought of killing Dante just makes me giddy.
“But this is about more than just killing him,” I continue. “If I wanted him dead, I’d just go after him now. I want to humiliate him first, and I want to take everything he owns away from him. Before he dies, I want him to know that every dollar he had coming in is now coming to me. You get me what I need, Marcell, and I’ll put a hundred grand in your hand after it’s done. Cash.”
“You ain’t gotta tell me twice,” Marcell says.
“Rock and Ricky, I need you to tail Dante,” I press on, laying down the rest of the plan. “Rock, you’re the only one slick enough and crazy enough to get close to this prick, and Ricky, nobody drives better than you. If it gets tight, I know I can trust you to make the getaway. I need you all alive in order to make this happen, so I can’t have you getting caught and tortured by some mafia goon.”
“No sweat,” Rock answers.
“That’s easy, Solomon,” Ricky says, but he has rage in his voice. “But what about Mason?”
I smile again. I figured this was coming, and I’m glad to hear Ricky has vengeance on his mind this evening.
“What about him?” Nix speaks up, pure curiosity coating his words. Even Nix is ready to make Detective Mason disappear.
“We getting him too?” Ricky asks.
“I’m glad to hear you ask that, Ricky,” I reply. “Tell me, what do you think we should do about the good detective?”
“I don’t think you should do anything,” Ricky responds, to my surprise, but then he continues. “I think you need to let me handle him. He’s responsible for what happened to Donny, and I had to watch as my brother laid on the floor with four bullet holes in him. Mason didn’t tell the officer to hold his fire or anything like that. He just let it happen. He let my brother die. So I want him. I don’t care how we set it up, but in the end, it needs to be me who pulls the rug out from under him.”
“Well, I wouldn’t dare deprive you of your much-needed retribution, Ricky,” I reply, still smiling. “I’ll tell you what, Ricky, you and Rock don’t worry about tailing Dante. Focus on Mason. Follow him, see where he goes, who he’s with, and when the best time to end him is. In three days, we build our plan and add Detective Anthony Mason to our hit list. Sound good?”
“Hell yeah,” Ricky replies.
“Good,” I say. “Clear your schedules, because until this thing is over, we’re all on the clock. I need you all on top of your game, because it’s gonna get thick. In three days, I’ll tell you when and where to meet up so we can put it all together. The day after we set up the plan, we execute it.”
“Looking forward to it,” Rock replies.
“Perfect,” Ricky says, and we all hang up the phone, knowing we’re about to go to war for the entire city. After this is over, we’ll either all be dead, or all be kings. And me? I’ll be the king of kings!
Sometimes life throws curveballs at you. It’s really all about how you react when one of those curveballs comes flying at your face that shows what kind of person you are.
I never expected any of this. When I was stressed out in Whitney’s basement all those years, I never thought I’d be on the cusp of greatness. I never thought the notorious Scarfo family would be coming after me because my rise to power was too quick for them to handle. I never thought I’d be at this level, with street guys who were willing to risk their lives for me. Yet, here we are. After Whitney’s overdose and Reina’s disappearance, I dedicated my life to becoming the most feared man in the city, and I made it happen. If Whitney could see me now!
Thoughts of my mother rarely happen, but tonight, as I walk to the liquor cabinet to refill my drink, she’s with me. I hated that woman, and I’m pretty sure she hated me because she hated herself, but when someone dies, things change. People tend to forget about the bad things and focus on the good things. For me, that’s not the case. Whitney wasn’t a good person, and she made my life miserable. Even now, as I pour this drink to add to the few I’ve already taken down, I can remember the stench of her vomit soaking into the discolored carpet in the living room. I remember the first time she pissed her pants after taking a hit right in front of me. I think I was five when I saw that for the first time. My life has been insanity from the beginning.
Believe it or not, I don’t get sad when I think about it. It emboldens me. It reminds me of what life can be like when you’re poor with nowhere to go, stuck inside a life where no one cares about you. That’s what happens when you’re all alone and no one gives a damn that you exist—you simply deteriorate, just like Whitney. I won’t let that happen to me. I’ve been poor, and I’ve been rich, and once you’ve been rich, there’s just no going back to being poor. That’s why I could never go back to Strawberry Mansion to live. I still own Whitney’s house, but I’m not about to live in it! Dante has no idea what he asked me to do when he suggested that I leave Philly and give him everything I own. It was the ultimate insult, and he’ll pay for the request.
I set my chrome gun on the counter and grab the bottle of bourbon I’ve been hanging out with all night. My glass is completely empty, so I open the freezer and drop new ice cubes in before securing the bottle and leaning it over. The brown liquid spills into the cup, and just as I set the bottle back down to put the lid on, I hear a knock at my door.
Knock, knock.
No one comes to my house uninvited. It literally has never happened, so the moment I hear those knocks, my first thought is Dante.
Does he really have the balls to send somebody to my house? This is why I’ve been walking around with a gun all night because I thought it was possible. It’s also why Nix and I planned on spending a few nights in a hotel until Dante’s death was freshly on my hands. I guess I waited too long.
Being alone right now is a problem. If I was Dante and I decided to send people to a home, I’d send at least ten, just to make sure. Especially if the person I’m after has my kind of reputation. With that thought, I assume I’ll be met with more firepower than I can go up against alone, so I’m going to have to use my home to my advantage.
Knock, knock, knock.
How many of them will I be able to kill before they put me down? I can’t just let them come in and end my life without the greatest gunfight the world has ever seen!
Knock, knock, knock.
I don’t know why they’re just knocking on the door, but I assume that’ll stop once they realize I’m on to them, so I pick up my drink and take the entire thing to the head, swallowing it in one big gulp before grabbing my gun from the counter and heading for the stairs. As I walk, I develop a plan on how to wreak havoc on this hit team once they burst through the door.
I’ll stand at the railing in front of my bed, and from there, I’ll pick off the first few with a silencer on my nine mil before tossing down the hand grenade I have stashed in my armory. Once the explosion goes off, I’ll pick up one of my fully automatic rifles and spray into the cloud of smoke that’ll still be lingering from the grenade. I bet I take out eight or nine of them before one of them can make it up the stairs.
Knock, knock, knock, knock.
I step onto the first stair and prepare for them to burst through the door, but instead, I’m stopped in my tracks as another knock comes, followed by a voice.
Knock, knock, knock, knock. “Solomon?”
My heart starts to pound as the voice sends memories exploding throughout my mind like birds being released from a cage. It can’t be.
I blink a bunch of times and shake my head, wondering if I’m just drunk or if I actually heard what I thought I heard. Then she speaks again.
“Solomon, it’s me.”
I don’t answer. I’m honestly not sure if I can. So instead of speaking, I speed-walk to the door and snatch it open. Like a nightmare suddenly shifting to a heavenly dream, my world changes when I look into the icy blue eyes of Reina Wilde.
After a few seconds of staring at each other, Reina smiles at me, and I drink it in. She’s wearing an inconspicuous, all-black outfit with large, silver, hoop earrings, and the bracelet I bought her in the mall. Her blonde hair is in a tight ponytail and her makeup is minimal, yet perfect. She’s so gorgeous it takes my breath away.
“Solomon,” she says again behind her perfect smile. “It’s nice to see you.”
I don’t know how to respond to her being here. I have so many questions to ask, so many things I’ve always wanted to say and do, things that have been pent up for seven years. My body hums with excitement and curiosity, and I’m not sure which one of the million things I’m thinking I’ll act on first. So, I stop thinking and do the first thing that comes to mind.
I lift my chrome nine millimeter and point it at her beautiful face.