Come home to me, Alana had said.
I will, I replied in my mind, hoping she could hear it.
2
A Mistake
According to Alessandro, our poor runner Roman had been scheduled to meet the buyers at an old apartment complex that more closely resembled a junkyard on the east side of the city. I knew exactly which client it was the moment Alessandro said we were heading to that location.
His street name was Chai - maybe a little too cutesy for a guy as rough around the edges as he was, but it added to his flair. His real name was Charles, according to my father, which was definitely far too formal of a name for an incredibly large, incredibly intimidating drug buyer. He was what we referred to as the middleman. He used a little, but mostly redistributed among his circle of smaller buyers to turn a quick profit. Chai was the same age as my father, and had known him for decades. He’d even known my mother.
In short, the Randolphs chose
the wrong deal to get involved in. Chai would know instantly that they weren’t with the Varassos and wouldn’t tolerate the kind of childish behavior from such a low-level gang. I was certain that, even if me and my brothers weren’t on our way over to put an end to this business with the Randolphs, Chai himself would make sure those who messed with Roman would be dead by morning.
“GPS says arrival in seventeen minutes,” said Alessandro from the front. “Roman was meant to meet Chai in thirty.”
“Perfect,” I muttered in response, leaning over to lift up the heavy lockbox we kept below the back left seat in this vehicle. Gabriel twisted in his seat to watch me go through the usual preparations. He was still new to this, even though he’d been a part of the family for over a decade. Our father had been reluctant to get his bastard son involved, which I’d never understood. He was a Varasso; this life was inescapable to all of us. In fact, maybe I envied Gabriel for almost living a life free of violence and danger.
If I’d been that lucky, I’d be on the way to the hospital with my pregnant girlfriend about to welcome my first child into this world.
I shook those thoughts from my head, doing my best to stay in the zone. I could never risk thinking about Alana or our baby when I was about to do a job like this.
With quick, expert hands, I opened up the heavy box and lifted up the cover to reveal a small collection of firearms and ammunition. I picked up my favorite, a gleaming silver pistol, and began loading it with methodic, practiced precision. At that point in my life, I knew I could clean, load, and fire a gun in my sleep.
Which wasn’t, technically, a good thing. Still.
Making his way through the streets away from the polished mansions hidden behind perfect hedges to the dingy inner city neighborhoods of the East Side, Alessandro settled back in the driver’s seat and sighed heavily.
“Dad was a little intense tonight,” he commented. “Wonder if Marco’s gonna cry himself to sleep tonight.”
Gabriel snorted and shook his head. “Nah, that was intentional. Marco’s an ass, but he always knows what he’s doing. That comment hurt Dad more than it hurt him.”
“You think?” asked Alessandro.
Wordlessly, I handed Gabriel a loaded gun between the gap in the front seats, grateful for the darkly tinted windows. “Safety’s on,” I muttered; it was my only contribution to the conversation. I preferred to keep quiet before things like this.
Gabriel shrugged in response to our brother. “Yeah, Dad hasn’t lost it like that in a long time.”
“Old man’s losing his mind,” grumbled Alessandro.
A tense silence followed. We all knew it was true, but saying it out loud made it seem more real. The truth was, Angelo Varasso hadn’t been quite right in the head for years. Call it too much whiskey or too much blood on his hands or the loss of the only two women he ever cared for, but something had knocked the Varasso family patriarch off his kilter a little bit. It was the reason so many in the family had started looking up to me as a true second in command. Everyone could sense that it would be no time at all before I was the kingpin.
“Those plates were expensive,” Alessandro added, breaking the tension.
Gabriel snorted. “Auntie Diana gifted them, right?”
“Yeah, Didi’s gonna be pissed when she finds out he chucked them against the damn wall,” chuckled Alessandro. Diana, our father’s older sister, was a force to be reckoned with. Even Angelo did his best to stay away from her bad side.
“Not as pissed as Rick’s gonna be when he finds out he’s going to have to fix another dent in the plaster,” joked Gabriel, referring to the well-loved, well-trusted guy who did most of the renovations in the grand Varasso family home. He was, of course, well paid for his constant patch-ups and quick fixes when ever something went awry behind closed doors.
I finished loading Alessandro’s gun and set it on the seat to give him when we arrived, then closed the box again and returned it to its place on the floor. Outside the windows, Philadelphia was gray and gloomy. It’d been raining for over a week, turning the entire city in a damp, grunge scene. I liked Philly best when it looked like this, though. When it had that particular aura of darkness and depth that no other city could accomplish, not even Brooklyn or Boston.
The weather made the east side look particularly pitiful. Broken glass, trash-littered sidewalks, and boarded-up windows flashed by as Alessandro sped through the thin streets. Passersby huddled under dirty, torn awnings of dusty storefronts, trying to stay dry in the persistent drizzle. Those who did walk the streets did so with quick footsteps, hoods up, heads to the ground. It was nearly dark outside, and this was the part of town you didn’t want to be caught in when the sun went down if you were nothing more than an innocent citizen.
“Bro,” said Gabriel from the front, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror. “You’re good, right?”
Alana. Baby. Hospital. I’m going to be a father. I hope she’s okay. Oh, God, what if she isn’t okay?