173
I watched Christian climb up into Chelsea’s room last night. I watched them kiss on the balcony…and then I left…feeling like there was an empty space where my heart should have been.
I wanted her from the moment I saw her…and now everything was ruined.
Did I wait too long?
As usual, I live in the shadow of both my brothers. She’s been with both of them and they weren’t even trying. I thought I’d have my chance when we went shooting, but Christian hiJaxed that whole thing as effortlessly as he does everything else.
I know Antonio wasn’t trying either. He never has to. Everything just lands in his lap.
Maybe Chelsea thinks I’m too young or too inexperienced to satisfy her. Maybe everybody thinks that about me—too young. They still see me as a kid.
This morning, on my run, I saw Chelsea give Christina a goodbye kiss before he climbed down from her room without a care in the world. It made me so fucking angry!
My father told him to stay at home and he just did what he wanted to anyway. He didn’t even care if the guards saw him because not one of them would rat him out to dad.
He’s earned all of their respect.
Not me—they’d tell on me in a second.I keep getting the easy,shitjobs because they think they’re protecting me.
I don’tneedtheir protection.
After getting ready for my day, I decided to check in on Chelsea. I’m about to knock on her door when I see Carlo approaching from the other end of the hall.
He smiles, “Miss Chelsea’s breakfast.”
I unlock the door and accept the tray from him, “Thanks Carlo.”
He tips his hat and leave. I go inside and find Chelsea seated on the patio. She waves to me with a big smile, “Hi!”
Every negative thought I’ve had is immediately banished at the mere sight of her.
I want to be with her so bad it hurts. She’s all I ever think about.I think I’m in love with her.
“Hi,” I set the tray on the table, “how’re you doing?”
“Good. You?” She takes the dome off the big tray. Underneath is diced fruit, yogurt, muesli, bread, butter and jam. There’s also a pot of coffee.
“This looks good,” I give her a smile.
“Yeah! I thought it was time to shake things up,” she laughs, “I was starting to feel like everything I ate either had eggs or cheese in it.”
I sit down while she digs in to the food.
I’m not sure how much times goes by with me silently enjoying the show—I love watching her—but the spell is broken when Chelsea gives me a strange look, mid-chew, and asks through a mouthful, “You want?” gesturing to the spread.
“Uh, no, thanks,” it’s probably time to come clean before I end up looking like a stalker, “there’s another reason why I came by this morning.”
“Yeah?” she pops a grape in her mouth and takes a bite of buttered bread.
I blurt it out before I lose my nerve, “I know about you and my brothers.”
She keeps chewing and doesn’t look fazed at all. “So? I like them.”
I can’t believe she can be so flippant about this!“But,Ilike you, Chelsea.”
“I like you too,” she smiles.
“But you’re with them!”
“I’m not ‘with’ anyone,” she does air quotes. “No one owns me.”
“But how can—”
She stands and comes over to me. I look up at her and she gently caresses my face, then leans down and kisses me.
My heart leaps into my throat.I want her so much!I pull her down and she straddles my lap. I kiss her deeper. She sucks on my tongue…and as my hands start to wander…she suddenly stops me.
She places a quick kiss on my nose and gets up to go to her side of the table, “Life can’t beallfun and games.”
“What do you mean?”
“We reward ourselves with pleasure only after we’ve accomplished something that deserves rewarding.” Chelsea gives me a stern look, “Your father is dragging his feet. We need to be more proactive.”
“How do you mean?”
“Have you ever readThe Art of War?”
“No.”
“It’s a famous text written by a Chinese general around 5thCentury BC. I’ve been studying it. We need to find a mid-level Cassaduchi and take him out. Any suggestions?”
Is she crazy?“Why the hell would we want to do that?”
“This is a game of chess, Daniel. We want to irritate Don Cassaduchi. We want him to think he has enemies on all sides. We want him to be suspicious of everything and everyone.”
“Why, exactly?” I don’t mean to sound condescending but it comes out that way.
“Because we want to make him more paranoid than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs…and when the time is right, we’ll reveal ourselves and he’ll make a mistake. His anger will get the better of him and we’ll have our opportunity to strike.”
I shoot my brow at her, “Sounds like an interesting book…thisArt of War. Makes you wonder whyeverybodydoesn’t read it.”
“Yeah, you’d think it would be essential reading for someone in your line of work. It’s even free to download,” she gives me an evil smile, “the problem is all your low-level thugs probably can’t read and the rest of you are too busy lifting weights and killing people.”
“Oh, come on! You know that’s not true!”Surely, she must be joking!
She pops another grape and winks at me. “So, are we going to do this or not?”
“Hold on a second,” I’m pretty sure she’s using me! “Are you saying that if I help you, you’ll have sex with me? Like a reward or something?”
She bursts into raucous laughter, “Of course not! What a thing to say!” Chelsea shrugs and gives me a crooked smile, “But, if you want to look at it that way, I suppose you could.”
Jeez.“I don’t know, Chelsea. My dad wouldn’t approve.”
“That’s why I’m asking you and not him,” she points her finger at me. “I’m taking back my father’s territory and destroying the Cassian. You can help or you can live in your brothers’ shadow for the rest of your life.”
My anger gets the better of me and I bolt upright, “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Did they say something about me?”
“Relax, Daniel,” Chelsea motions for me to sit back down, “they didn’t say anything. It’s all in your head, but I can see the dynamic. You’ve got something to prove. Maybe doing something when you haven’t been told to by your brothers or your father can fix your perception of yourself.”
“What are you? A fuckin’ therapist?”
“Nope,” she sips her coffee, “just a poor girl who reads whatever she can find. Now, are you in or out?”
I stand, “I’m in.” Maybe she is talking shit, but I’m not going to back down from a challenge.
“Good,” Chelsea stands as well. “I need a gun with a silencer—”
“It’s called a suppressor,” I give her a squinty look.
“I stand corrected,” she smiles politely, “I need a gun with asuppressor, for you to sneak me out of here and for you to help me choose the right target.”
“What’s the right target?”
“Someone mid-level, and somewhere we won’t be seen. It’s got to be guerilla style—in and out—quick and clean. It’ll have them wondering who the fuck is behind it.”
I sigh, “Alright, let’s do it.”
No one else was at home, so sneaking Chelsea out wasn’t a big deal.
After I help her pick out a weapon from the armory—a suppressed Glock 17—and test it in the barn, we get into the old Hyundai the staff uses for short grocery runs.
It’s a nondescript vehicle and won’t stand out as especially conspicuous. No one does a professional hit and then drives away in a rickety piece of shit.
Generally, you want to be in and out in a vehicle with speed, maneuverability and tinted windows, but since this mission is more undercover than most, I’ve opted for some reverse psychology.
More importantly, I don’t want anyone recognizing us on Cassaduchi turf.
I drive to the north side of town and cruise the streets patiently while Chelsea changes the radio stations, alternating between music, news and traffic reports.
I don’t feel good about this at all. In fact—I’m hoping she’ll change her mind.Any way you look at it, this is bad news. If I’m seen, this could mean a death sentence for all of us.
It could mean instant war.
Chelsea squeezes my thigh and pulls me out of my reverie, “You alright?”
“Yeah,” I nod, “just thinking.”
“About?”
“Nothing.”
There’s a long pause, then she says, “We’re not backing out of this,” and glares at me like a school teacher. “Now, what’s all this driving around in circles for?”
“This is their neighborhood—The Cassian.I know some of the mid-level guys, not all, but some. I know where wemightfind some capos, but that’s not mid-level and we definitely don’t want to do that.”
“So?”
“So, some of these businesses—the laundromat, the massage parlor, the dry cleaner, the pizza parlor, they’ll be paying protection money.”
She looks at me sideways, “And?”
“And when we spot someone I recognize going in to make their collections, we can wait for him to come out and make an example of him.”
“I see.”
I shake my head, “This isn’t going to be easy, Chelsea. He’ll park at the curb in full view of everybody. It’s daytime. He’ll walk in and walk out. I don’t know how you plan on killing the guy without anyone noticing you.”
I see her purse her lips, “You do your job, I’ll do mine.”
I find myself shaking my head again. “This is a bad idea.”
Chelsea is silent. Hopefully she’s reconsidering.
After a while she turns to me with curious look, “What’s the point of shaking down a tiny-ass pizza parlor? They probably don’t even make more than a few hundred a day.”
Smart girl.“There are other ways you can pay. Sometimes we don’ttaketheir money, wegivethem money in exchange for a service.”
“Like?”
“A pizza parlor is a cash business. We have certain funds we can’t declare. A cash business is great to launder money. We give them the cash, they inflate the revenue on their books, then they can bank the money and become a silent partner in a legitimate business for us.”
“Then why not go full legit?”
“Because that new business will always be shown as running at a loss. We don’t want to pay capital gains tax. It’ll be a bar or a club or something. You need a liquor license so the IRS wants to keep tabs on you.”
“I see,” she nods thoughtfully.
“We’ll pay more salaries than we need to. We’ll buy more booze than we sell and declare the excess aspersonal use.So, that bar or club is where we get our free liquor. The cash we get from the patrons can go directly into our pockets or another business.”
She smiles at me, “You are an incredibly smart young man, Daniel!”
I laugh, “I didn’t come up with this, it’s just how it’s done.”
“Nonetheless,” she pats my thigh. “Hey, how do the guys make their collections?”
“They just go in and take an envelope, say hi, maybe some chitchat and they leave. The owners are all friendly with them.”
“Is it a Manila envelope?”
“Usually, why?”
“I just saw a fat guy in a trench coat put one in his pocket when he came out of the hardware store.”
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