De Lucci’s Obsession

I returned to the mansion before five that morning, slept until ten, and then joined my father for breakfast in the sunroom. It was the only room in the house that was routinely swept for wiretaps.

Pop sat at the head of the table. My father Riccardo “Richie” De Lucci became boss of the De Lucci Crime family in 1983 when it was clear our cousin, who was boss at that time, was going to jail. Beside him was Uncle Jackie—Giacomo De Lucci—the acting boss since Pop’s heart attack following my mother’s death. My father relinquished most of the running of the organization to my uncle but continued to advise him.

Lorenzo had been meant to run the family one day.

“You could ask him yourself,” my father told my uncle when he spied me walking toward them. Jackie didn’t look anything like Pop who remained lean and had the strong, angular features of the De Luccis which was passed down to his sons. Uncle Jackie took after Nonna—stocky with beady eyes and a short chin. He wasn’t blessed with the De Lucci’s head of thick hair either and was balding at the top of his head. Jackie De Lucci reminded me of a pit bull and with his reputation on the street, the similarity was not merely physical.

“Ask me what?” I asked, easing myself into a chair beside Pop and facing my uncle across the table. One of the house staff immediately appeared, set a plate of sausage and eggs in front of me, and filled my cup with coffee.

“Why were you at the McGrath girl’s apartment this mornin’?”

“Having me followed, uncle?”

“Part of my job, kid. Know what’s going on in this family,” Jackie said. “You think, just because you’re not a made guy, your actions don’t reflect on us?”

Lowering my coffee, I shrugged, picking up the knife and fork. “She’s … interesting.”

“Jesus Christ, Cesar.” Jackie slammed his palm on the table. “Her brother is working for the fuckin’ U.S. Attorney. It’s makin’ everyone nervous.”

“I’m not seeing a problem here,” I said. “Do you, Pop?” I sawed through a sausage and lifted it to my mouth, eyeing my uncle with derision. “I’d even say it’s an advantage—”

“I’m not buyin’ this keep your friends close, enemies closer bullshit,” Jackie hissed.

I took my time chewing in a way that let my uncle know that I hated being interrupted. Finally, I said, “Red Cillian had been loyal to this family. He took the heat that would have put half your men in jail—including you. You gave the order that night. He hasn’t given up anyone. Neither has Charles.”

“They know how to play the game and keep their mouths shut,” my father agreed.

“That’s more than could be said of several of your wise guys.” I shot my uncle a meaningful look, indicating that I had a pulse on the family even when I’d lived in Europe.

“So you’re sayin’ awarding them last night’s gig has got nothin’ to do with your interest in screwin’ the chick.”

My fingers tightened on my knife and fork, and I could feel a vein bulge in my temple. Silvio’s bloody end flashed through my mind.

Pop must have sensed the spike in my temper and sighed, “Jackie.”

“Disrespect her again, and I’ll fuckin’ shove this knife down your throat and make sure those words are gonna be your last,” I said softly.

My uncle’s eyes widened, but instead of being offended, the asshole seemed delighted. “Guess Harvard can’t take the thug out of a De Lucci, eh?”

“Don’t get too excited,” I muttered. My Brooklyn street guy accent had a way of slipping out when I got pissed.

Lowering the silverware before the violence roiling inside me became a reality, I sat back in my chair. “And stop with the goddamn tail. You follow?”

As we traded stares across the table, Jackie was probably imagining ways to slit my throat. One never spoke to a made man that way and most especially the boss. Being my father’s son didn’t protect me from my uncle. But my murky connections to criminal organizations in Italy and the rest of Europe made the Five Families wary of my presence in New York and that worked to my advantage. It also presented a disadvantage because I was sure they were keeping tabs on my movements.

My uncle’s beady eyes lost focus for a bloody instant before he turned to Pop. “We have another problem.”

Nice. Changing the subject without agreeing to my demand. I let that slide for now.

The house staff took that opportunity to refill our coffee. My uncle waited until they disappeared into the house before he continued, “I got a call from one of the Rossi capos at seven this morning. One of his soldiers didn’t show up for their construction job.”

“And this concerns us, how?” Pop asked.

“Stinky’s last known whereabouts was last night at the party.”

My father frowned. “Stinky?”

“Silvio ‘Stinky’ Capuano,” Jackie supplied. “Tony Cap’s cousin.”

The capo, Anthony Capuano, led the highest-earning crew of the Rossi Crime family. He was working with the Russians on side businesses the Five Families frowned upon but didn’t know how to address.

Keeping my expression neutral. “Yes, he was here.”

“So you saw him last night?” my uncle pressed.

“He’s hard to miss. His breath precedes him.” At my father’s blank stare, I added, “He eats raw onions like one would eat apples.”

“There won’t be surveillance to review,” Pop said.

Whenever there was a mob gathering like last night, it was understood that video surveillance would be turned off for the main rooms. However, I made sure that all the footage leading to the basement was erased. My trek to Ava’s apartment served two purposes. One, I wanted to see her and make sure she was okay, and two, I knew I was being followed and I used myself as a distraction so my men could leave with Silvio’s body and get rid of it.

Paulie had been working with me in the background. To the world, he was the happy-go-lucky De Lucci. To keep my promise to Lorenzo, my youngest brother took a page from the Roman emperor Claudius who everyone thought was a fool. For wasn’t it better to survive with half of one’s wit when most have died with all of theirs?

I cut another piece of sausage and forked it together with eggs and pretended ignorance. “That’s still the case with the surveillance?”

Pop nodded.

“What the hell do we tell Tony?” my uncle asked.

“You’re the boss, Jackie,” Pop said. “Think of something. Now, regarding this other thing about the dope. It’s a bad idea. We don’t want that shit on our garbage routes. We have enough trouble skirting RICO, we don’t need the DEA on our ass. Leave that business to the Rossis.”

Stilling my tongue about the drugs was difficult. Didn’t these people learn when the feds busted the Pizza Connection in ’87?

I felt Jackie’s stare on me so I glanced at him with a raised brow.

“We owe Tony Cap a favor for the Gorski business,” he told us.

I knew this was coming. It wasn’t enough repaying the loan with more interest than they could possibly collect on it. “What does he want?”

“An invitation to the show.” The show was my high-stakes card game that was set to begin tonight.

“Fine.”

My uncle slid back his chair and rose. “Thanks for breakfast, boss.” He then nodded to me. “Will I see you tonight?”

“I’ll make an appearance.” And it depended on my plans for a certain redhead who occupied my mind.

His mouth tightened, before he replied, “Good. Let me know if you hear anything about Silvio.”

“Same. Keep us updated,” Pop said.

“Uncle Jackie,” I called to his retreating back. When he turned, I said. “I’m not fucking around about the tail.” Even when I knew they were following me, it did annoy me that they would actually think I wouldn’t know. “End that shit now, capisce?”

Eyes narrowing, he glanced at my father. Whatever look was exchanged between them, I didn’t care, but my uncle gave me a tight nod and left.

“Try not to add to Jackie’s problems.” Pop gave me a look. “He’s got a lot on his plate.”

“Then he should mind his own goddamn business.”

“How serious are you about the girl?”

“Her name is Ava,” I gritted.

A ghost of a smile curved his mouth. “Ah, it’s serious. If it’s serious, I’m okay with it.”

“So you’re okay if I pursue McGrath’s daughter?”

“I wasn’t aware I had a say. You’ve always done as you pleased. And I’m not questioning what you have going on in Italy, but those rumors are keeping you safe.” Pop leaned forward. “But when it comes to women, I see myself with your mamma in you.” He sighed regretfully and waved around. “I would give this all up. This power, this money. Live in a little house in Brooklyn if that meant I would still have your mamma and Lorenzo with me.”

“Pop …”

His eyes shone with tears. I’d heard his laments before. His regrets.

“I failed her.” His voice cracked, and I lowered my knife and put my hand over his. “She married a monster. She died because of a broken heart when Lorenzo died,” he continued. “My sons … they inherited her good heart. You could not stomach this life.”

Pop was wrong. I had done things that normal people would consider me a monster for doing.

“She loved you,” I told him. “She knew what she was getting into. She never blamed you. That’s why you never let drugs into the business … because of her.”

“My reign is ending,” he said. “Jackie is a good boss. He’s got more balls for this kind of work, for what the family is becoming. I can only offer guidance now. With RICO bearing down on the mafia, most of the bosses want to delegate.”

Couldn’t say I didn’t see this coming. “The cartels and gangs.”

Pop gave a lift of his chin. “Colombia and Mexico are already in the mix.”

“How is it getting in? The docks?” I surmised since the families still controlled the Seaworker’s union, they controlled the unloading.

“Yes,” Pop sighed. “You know we always joke around that half of our wise-guys are psychos.”

I’d heard this more than a couple of times. It was mostly said in jest, but there was truth to it because how else could someone kill without a fucking conscience? If I killed only the worst of them, did that mean I had some level of psycho in me?

Pop shot me a resigned look. “Soon the other half will be dealing drugs and wanna bet they’d be hooked on dope? But whatcha gonna do?”