I shrug.
"You know this will be more than a fight. There'll be blood and there'll be death. It won't be quick. Ernesto will teach you how we deal with thieves and our enemies. You'll go with him tonight and you will help do what needs to be done."
He wants me to kill, he wants me to torture. I have enough anger to do both. All I need to remember is my father was friends with the Manzinis. And when my mother was sick, they didn't give a fuck either. What is it that they say? An eye for an eye.
I stand taller. "Yes sir, I'm ready."
Giovanni nods his approval. "Good, you help Ernesto get everything done and then we'll talk."
Just like that we're dismissed.
I follow Ernesto out the door and into the lounge where some of the men are hanging out. He singles out three or four of them and everybody knows something's going down tonight. None of them look at me in question as I would expect them to. But then again, who would dare second-guess what Giovanni Russo says.
No one, if they value their lives.
We head to a private room where Ernesto lays out the plan for tonight.
When we get to the Manzini warehouse, the gun tucked into my waistband weighs me down. I know what's going to happen. I'm ready for it. I'm just really fucking scared. These aren't some street punks we're shaking down. These are the enemy. The Manzinis. This is our declaration of war.
"Massimo," Ernesto says by way of greeting, then shakes the man's hand. I watch closely for physical cues since there won't be any verbal ones. It didn't take me long to catch on to how messages are relayed. A turn of a head, scratching of a chin, or lift of an eyebrow is a signal of some kind, and if you miss it, you're as good as dead.
"Ernesto," the other man replies. He's in his late twenties, like Ernesto.
"Well, look who we have here, boys." Cesare Manzini. Ernesto stiffens, but holds his fingers rigid, signaling to hold … for now.
No one says anything as Cesare swaggers over to where Ernesto and Massimo are standing. Massimo looks as unhappy about his cousin's appearance as Ernesto. Interesting, that.
"What's the meeting about?" Cesare asks.
"He's here to talk to me, cousin. It's personal."
Cesare continues to stare at Ernesto and Ernesto meets his gaze, never wavering.
"Nah," Cesare says, "there's nothing too personal family can't share. Isn't that right, cousin?"
Massimo looks to Ernesto, who nods slightly, and on the inside we brace ourselves-outside there's no hint of anticipation or anxiety.
"So why are you here, Ernesto?" Cesare smirks.
Ernesto shifts his weight and we all settle in. Next signal is go time.
"I'm here to meet with Massimo. My business is not with you."
Cesare nods. "So it is business."
"Why else would I be here?" Ernesto asks.
"I was wondering that very thing," Cesare mutters.
"Cesare, leave us. This has been discussed with Salvatore. You'll be filled in at the meeting later tonight," Massimo tells him, but Cesare remains still, gaze still locked on to Ernesto's.
"I think I'd rather stay."
"And I just told you to leave. You will do as you're told, Cesare, or you'll suffer the consequences," Massimo tells his cousin through clenched teeth.
Cesare grunts. "Calm down, cousin. I'll go. I can't really stand the stench of the Russos anyway. They always smell like … what is that smell?" he asks one of the Manzini men, who makes no move to answer.
"It's the smell of bullshit and it wafted over me when you entered into the room. So I'm afraid, Cesare, that smell is you," Ernesto tells him, straightening, and it's go time.
We all shift our weight and stand at the ready, Cesare lets out a mirthless laugh.
"Ah, Ernesto, you always were a prick."
Ernesto nods. "Run along, Cesare, or you'll get a spanking later."
Cesare reaches for his gun and before he gets it out of his waistband, Ernesto has his gun pressed to Cesare's temple. Cesare remains frozen, hand close, but oh, so far away from his weapon.
His eyes bounce around the room and he notices that not only does he have Russo guns aimed at him, but also Manzini.
"Looks to me, cousin," Massimo begins, "you're going to get more than a spanking. Vinny, if you could please relieve Cesare of his weapon."
The other man steps forward slowly and carefully, so as not to set anyone off, and takes the gun from Cesare's waistband, then tucks it into his own.
"You're making a big mistake here, Massimo," Cesare begins.
"I don't think so," Massimo replies. "Vinny and Angelo are going to escort you to see the boss."
"Cousin-" Cesare begins.
Massimo smirks. "Too little too late. Now you'll face the consequences of disregarding the request I gave you. Salvatore hates insubordination."
No one relaxes. All guns are still trained on Cesare as he stares down his cousin this time, hatred evident in his expression.
"Your time has come," Cesare tells him and Massimo raises a brow.
"I think you're reading the situation wrong. It is your time that has come. And," Massimo tells him, taking a step forward, "don't you ever threaten me again or I'll put a bullet through your brain before you even blink."
Cesare clenches his fists in anger, frustration, and hate. The hate radiating off of him is palpable, and I can't help but wonder just what the hell is going on with the Manzinis, and does Salvatore Manzini know about it. Likely if he did, Cesare would already be dead.
"Let's go," Vinny tells him and they turn, heading toward the door. When the door closes behind them, everyone lowers their weapons at Massimo's and Ernesto's commands-but they aren't put away.
The tension in this room is so thick you could cut it with a knife. I feel a bead of sweat roll down my back and hope like hell we can get the fuck out of here before it starts popping out on my forehead. Show no sign of weakness. That's what Ernesto and Giovanni taught me, and it's a lesson I learned quickly and very, very well. There's no room for trial and error out on the street, where your life depends on your reaction and quick thinking, which also means there is no room for anxiety, panic, or any of the telltale signs signaling either.
"I apologize for Cesare," Massimo tells Ernesto, who nods. "He's out of control and tonight is the meeting where Salvatore will determine his fate."
"Seems like a good decision. He's making mistakes, Massimo. Mistakes that are going to have our families back at war. None of us want that," Ernesto admits.
"No, we do not."
A door slams and all weapons raise and train on the two men who enter. Giovanni and Salvatore. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. I can't believe what I'm seeing. Sworn enemies. Holy shit.
"Lower your weapons, Russos," Gio orders.
"You as well Manzinis," Salvatore agrees.
All weapons lower.
"Cesare has been dealt with," Mr. Manzini announces.
"Fuck. I was hoping I'd get to handle that," Massimo says.
Ernesto smirks. "I'd have fought you to carry out that task."
"Get in line," another of the Manzinis says.
"Men," Salvatore commands, and everyone quiets down. "You will deliver and unload the weapons Cesare took from the Russos, without direction or permission, at Giovanni Russo's choice of location."
They all nod in agreement.
"Ernesto," Giovanni states, "I need you and Nickels to come with me."
Ernesto directs me over with a tilt of his head and we follow Giovanni out the door. I don't tuck the gun away and neither does Ernesto. Now we're not only responsible for our lives, we're also responsible for our boss's. Christ on a crutch.
When I enter the limo, I'm not really all that surprised by the scene before me. Cesare Manzini, being held at gunpoint by one of our men. Ernesto smirks and rubs his hands together.
"Here's your present," Giovanni tells Ernesto.
"Best present ever," he replies.
"I would love to kill you," Cesare seethes.
Ernesto snorts.
"You'll never get that chance," Giovanni tells him coldly.
"I should have killed you when I had the chance," Cesare tells Giovanni, and I lift my gun and point it at his temple.
"You might want to rethink how you speak to Mr. Russo," I tell him. "You will show some respect."
Ernesto smirks again.
"Who the fuck are you, boy?" Cesare asks.
"The boy who's going to kill you," I respond flatly.
Ernesto leans back in his seat. "He's no boy, I can assure you that."
Cesare looks me up and down, just his eyes roaming over my body while my weapon continues to press into his temple.
"Ah, we are here," Giovanni announces. I lower my gun, but my gaze doesn't waver from Cesare. Something's wrong. I feel it. I can't pinpoint it, I just know it in my gut.
We make our way into the empty warehouse.