It’s hard for me to keep from smirking at the commentary, even though we have more important things to discuss. I’ve wanted to put Sal in his place for a very long time, and now that it’s happened, I’m glad it’s making an impression. It’s another step closer to my eventual goal—taking over for Spada.
I’m heading in the right direction. I’m sure of it. Shit, I can almost taste it. Get rid of Sal, move in on Spada… I won’t even have to take Spada out myself, if I’m reading the room right. Nobody respects him anymore—at least not the way they used to. He’s bared his ass, shown his weaknesses. His men are like sharks—converging on the blood in the water, looking for the chum, and then for the live victim to chew up and spit out.
It’s not just the bullshit with McAllister. If Spada still had control of his organization, that spat with Sal wouldn’t have happened. Sal wouldn’t have dared to go after Sarah. And, quite probably, I wouldn’t have been quite so fast to go after Sal.
“All right, it’s time to get back to business.” My voice puts an end to most of the muttering, nudging, and grinning that’s going on around the table. “We’re not here to gossip like a bunch of women in a sewing circle. We’re here to make plans.”
“Yeah,” Chris pipes up. It’s not so much a brown-nosing agreement as it is his way of introducing a new topic. “Do we have any word on when the fights can start up again?”
“Not yet. Still waiting for Spada to give the go-ahead.”
“Fuck Spada.” I get the feeling I wasn’t supposed to hear those words, muttered from the back of the room. I’m not completely sure who said it, but I act like I am.
“That’s enough,” I say in a tight voice. “We’re not here to share your opinion of Spada, either. He’s the boss, and while he’s the boss, we do as he says.”
“I heard somebody’s planning on clipping him.”
This time I know exactly who said it, and I give him a direct look. “Gossip,” I snap. “And if I hear any more of that bullshit, I knock your fucking teeth out. Am I understood?”
“Yes, sir.” The man looks properly chastised.
I sort through the notes on my phone and prepare to launch into the formalized business part of the meeting, but just as I pull up the information I need, the phone rings. It’s Spada himself.
I wonder for a split second if he’s watching the meeting somehow, but I’m pretty sure even he hasn’t gone that far yet. I excuse myself from the room and answer the call.
“Angelino. I need to talk to you.”
“I’m in the middle of—”
“I don’t care what you’re in the middle of. Get to my place. You’ve got ten minutes.” He hangs up.
Instead of staring at the phone in annoyance at his brusqueness, I pretend the call is still going and nod and smile a few times before I put it away.
“That was the man himself,” I tell my crew. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve been called to an emergency meeting. Chris, could you take over?”
“Sure, boss.”
#
I’m ushered into the house by an armed man, and two more of Spada’s personal guards are standing outside his office. Their presence, as well as their stances, tell me immediately that this isn’t a casual meeting. Spada’s calling me onto the carpet.
“Sit down,” he snaps when I come in.
I sit. No point arguing yet. I’m sure I’ll get inspired to do so later.
He launches right in. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, taking on De Luca like that? You have no fucking right and you know it.”
“De Luca’s a piece of shit—”
“De Luca’s a made man just like you are, and I’m not going to sit by and let you two kill each other. Never mind that you go behind my back, you don’t bother getting permission. This is not an organization where you can just do whatever the fuck you want. You should know that by now.”
I’m seething inwardly, but I manage to stay calm on the outside. “So why isn’t he here? He’s just as guilty as I am.”
“Because I don’t want you shooting each other down in the middle of my house, that’s why.” His voice is tight now. “This has got to stop, Angelino. I can’t have the two of you at each other’s throats. It sets a bad example. Now, you two either work it out or I’ll work it out for you.”
“He had no right to go after the bakery. That’s Sarah’s.”
Spada’s eyes narrow. “You’re putting your career and your reputation and quite possibly your life on the line for what? A piece of pussy? I know she’s a pretty woman, but this is fucking ridiculous. You’ve known her, what, a couple of weeks? You need to get your priorities in order, Angelino.”