OWN HER: A Dark Mafia Romance(13)

Mario grimaced. “You got that right. If it ain't smothered in pasta, I don't want to hear about it. But I know you're a big fan of all this chopsticks-and-rice crap, right? So I wanted to introduce you to Mr. Schmoozie here.” He pointed to the Japanese man standing in the corner.



“Shimizu,” the man sighed quietly, bowing to Gio.



“Sure, sure,” Mario said dismissively, sitting down again and frowning at the menu in front of him. “Hey, what do you have to drink around here? I can't read a word of this nonsense.”



“Uh, they've got sake, which is like a rice wine,” Gio said, sitting down across from Mario. “And they've also got Kirin and Sapporo, which are kinds of beer...”



Mario waved him off, reaching into his pocket for his billfold and peeling off a fifty. He flapped it at Shimizu. “Hey, there's a liquor store across the street. Why don't you go pick me up a bottle of grappa and keep the change, okay? And keep the front door unlocked. We're expecting two more people.”



Shimizu accepted the bill gingerly with his thumb and forefinger, his mouth tightening in disgust as though it were a square of soiled toilet paper. He left the room, shutting the door behind him.



“Friendly, ain't he?” Gio pointed out.



“He's just pissed because he's been running this joint for twenty years,” Mario said, “and last year, an all-you-can-eat place opened up a couple blocks away and took all his business. Now he can't even afford the rent on this place, let alone the rest of his overhead. That's how I was able to buy it from him for such a low price. He can stay on as the head chef, though, or if you don't like the prick's attitude, you can fire him. Whatever, it's your place now.”



“Jesus, you bought this place?” Gio asked, surprised. “For me? Why?”



“You're a made guy now, kid,” Mario said. “That means that as your boss, I'm gonna need you to kick up eight thou to me each week, which means you're gonna need to start running rackets of your own. As your father, I figured I'd snatch this place up for you and hand it over as an early birthday present, just to get you started.”



Gio shook his head, trying to make sense of this. “So, wait...what, I'm a made guy now and you want me to run a fucking restaurant? And a failing one, at that? What's that got to do with running rackets? How am I supposed to kick up eight K each week slinging green tea in this dump?”



Mario pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Gio, smarten up, will you? How many times have I told you it's not how you make the money, it's how you launder it? Jesus, all those times I tried to teach you the family business, and I may as well have been talking to a block of fuckin' parmesan.”



Gio had often tried to understand the lessons his father taught him about how the Mancinis invested their money, but he found the subject too boring to follow, and he was usually distracted by thoughts of his Special Room and who his next guest might be.



“This place is basically a license to steal,” Mario continued. “You want to make your bones dealing coke or H? You want to start collecting protection money from a few places? You want to get into hijacking, whores, card games, whatever? You can funnel every dime into this place, and it'll be untraceable. It's mostly a cash business, so all you gotta do is write up a bunch of receipts for fake meals each week and boom, it goes into the bank just like a normal deposit and you can take out what you want when you want without the Feds or the IRS crawling up your ass. Starting to get the picture now?”



Gio nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think so. Hey, thanks, Papa. This was real thoughtful of you.”



“That ain't all,” Mario said. “Since you're gonna be running your own rackets from now on, you're gonna need your own lawyer to help you manage all this shit.”



“But what about Louie?” Gio asked. “He's always done good work for us before.”



“We gotta keep things separate from now on,” Mario replied. “Or at least, that's how we gotta make it look. Otherwise, the Feds could try to get to you through me, or vice versa. Plus if we both got pinched at the same time, God forbid, there's no way the courts'd allow Louie to handle us both. To them, that's a conflict of interests.”



“But how do you know we can trust this new guy?”



Mario raised his eyebrows. “Kid, I said you needed a different lawyer. I didn't say we were gonna find one for you in the fuckin' Yellow Pages. Louie's got someone he trusts who's worked in his office for a couple years. Officially, she's gonna leave his employ to go into business for herself, and you're gonna be her first and only client.”