Carmine

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In a state of utter confusion, I roll my neck and light up a cigarette as I stand in my boss’s office while he’s seated behind his desk with Luca on his other side.

The rage I felt when I saw that guy touching Eva unleashed the killer inside me.

Nevertheless, I assemble my thoughts, wondering if the entire clusterfuck of this morning was orchestrated by Roman and Gwen. Perhaps Gwen got to my phone on Tuesday? But then they’d know about Eva, so why haven’t they ratted me out to Adriano? On top of that, I can’t truly rule out that Adriano’s onto me, because he and Luca have been tense as well. However, that could simply be due to our upcoming meeting.

“You take the lead,” Adriano instructs, looking up at me as the tip of his cig smolders.

Nodding and only slightly reassured since I always take the lead in negotiations as Consigliere, I assess him, detecting wariness toward me.

When there’s a knock on the door, Luca paces across the room to open it, and Pelayo darkens the doorway before stepping inside with his underboss. His severe crew cut seems contradictory to his pleased expression as he shows his crooked white teeth.

Luca shuts the door and both of us glance at Pelayo’s expensive grey suit that’s similar to our tailor-made ones. I guess someone looks up to us.

“Gentlemen, I apologize for being a few minutes late.” Pelayo dips his chin, and Adriano mirrors the action as Pelayo points to his left. “This is Falcone, my underboss.”

Adriano shakes their hands and leans back right before I motion with my smoke for them to take their seats in the chairs in front of the desk, and they comply.

“Pelayo, Falcone, welcome to Club 7,” I say.

“I’m very glad to be here.” Pelayo doesn’t seem to be on edge. He’s poised, which tells me he most likely doesn’t have anything up his sleeve.

“Let’s not beat around the bush and get started,” I begin, and the corner of his mouth slowly rises.

“Yes, let’s,” he answers.

At that moment, Adriano’s phone chimes in, so he grabs it out of his pocket, reads a message, types something back, and stashes it.

I continue, “The Syndicate has cargo that Roman imports in huge bulk every three months. He moves it through customs. What can you offer me?”

“What percentage of your shipments get through?”

“About seventy,” I reply, which is the only reason we chose to work with Roman in the first place. Others only get fifty percent into this country, so half of their fortune is confiscated by law enforcement. It’s how the Syndicate remains the largest distributor in Illinois by far.

He crosses his ankle over his knee. “I can get eighty-five percent through.”

My interest is piqued, and so is Adriano’s, I’m positive, but he doesn’t move a muscle.

“How?” I inquire, letting the smoke billow up from my nostrils.

“I import small batches every week via different routes. It was a hassle to set up, but currently, I have deliveries that aren’t on anyone’s radar, so most of it gets through. I’ll use those lines to import your drugs.”

“And what do you want in return?”

“What was your deal with Roman?”

I cock my head, lowering my arm and repeating with icy calm, “What do you want in return?”

“Depends on the size of your cargo. And I want to be an official associate of the Syndicate,” he admits.

I stub out my cigarette in the metallic ashtray on the corner of the desk and show him a deliberate smile. “I’ll never go into business with an open contract. The Syndicate only works with fixed amounts.”

“Fair enough. If you would choose to import every week, what’s the approximate weight?”

Adriano and Luca both glance at me while I do the math quickly. “About ten kilos.”

His brows rise. “That’s doable for me. I can get your purest cocaine and heroin into the U.S. for forty thousand a month, fixed. I’ll take care of everything with your man in South America – I presume that’s how Roman arranged it?”

It isn’t. We handle everything abroad, but this would work better. Still, I need additional information. “How’s your cash flow set up?”

“You can pay my soldier in cash when you pick up the cargo, or I can deliver it to you. Then I launder the money through my legitimate company. It won’t be traceable to Club 7 or the Syndicate. Easy, breezy.”

“We pick up our shipments ourselves,” I inform him.

“That’s fine. I can arrange everything within a few days once you agree to go into business with us.”

“Why are you so eager to work with us?” Luca demands.

“I’m laying all my cards on the table,” Pelayo replies. “Once I’m an associate of the Syndicate, I can expand my business twice as fast. In addition, your name will give me prestige in the Chicagoan underworld. Basically, that’s all I’m after. I also loathe working with snakes like Roman, and word on the street is that there’s trouble between you two. So I would like to ask what your intention with Roman is?”

I look at Adriano, who takes over and answers, “I have no intentions with Roman.”

“He won’t be thrilled if we decide to collaborate and cut him out, and he’ll become an issue,” Pelayo remarks. “I’m prepared to take him on because he’s fucked with me, but will the Syndicate back me if he starts a war?”

“If it comes to that, the Syndicate will support you,” Adriano puts in.

“Does this mean we have a deal?” he inquires.

Adriano peers up at me and I nod, so he says, “Not yet. I’ve wanted to cease doing business with Roman, but I’m not going to simply take your word. We’ll do a test shipment next weekend, and if all goes well and my captain is satisfied, I’ll end my arrangement with Roman. So only then will you be an official associate of my organization.”

“I understand.”

“Perfect. Your captain may call my captain, John, and he’ll finalize the details with you. And keep me updated if have any difficulty handling Roman.”

Pelayo smiles, content, and as Adriano rises, Pelayo stands up too, shaking his hand. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Adriano grins, undoubtedly also pleased with these swift proceedings, and Pelayo and his man exit without a hitch.

As soon as Luca closes the door, Adriano lazes back, smirking. “I like him.”

Luca grunts, evidently not sure about this, while I agree with Adriano aloud, “He appears cordial, and if he runs a tight shift, it’ll benefit us.”

Adriano evaluates me for a moment too long before commenting, “I’m going to the warehouse.”

“Alone?” I ask as he snatches his jacket from the back of the chair.

“Luca’s coming with me. I’ll talk to you later,” he concludes, exiting with Luca.

In the silence of the room, I realize that my time with Eva is over. She can get out of the Loop, far away from Roman, and no one will ever know what occurred in my apartment the last week. It’s over. It should settle the Syndicate man inside me, yet it fails. Deep down, it hits me that I don’t want to let her go. So I stride out of the office too, drawn to my home and to the little thief waiting for me there.

But as I return to the Astoria Tower, there’s chaos and turbulence raging in my chest.

***

When I unlock my door, Eva’s standing at the sofa with enormous eyes. “Carmine! No!”

Moving forward, I ask, “What—”

Unexpectedly, my head is nudged sideways as the end of a barrel presses into my temple, and a male voice orders, “Get the fuck inside.”

My hands fly up in surrender, all my sentiments making way for pure fury as I scan Eva from head to toe for injuries. Our gazes meet and hold while my throat tightens.

At last, I realize that lies always have a way of coming out. No matter how shrewd or cunning you are, secrets always resurface. They’re an undeniable force a human being can’t compete with. And it’s usually in the midst of your worst problems that the biggest ones come back to haunt you. A person drowns under the weight of lies, as I’m doing now.