Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 154525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
There were consequences to that type of thing, and Marco was a good example.
“What would be the plan for Nico?” Giorgio then asked Big Mike.
Again, the beefy capo shrugged. “Can’t he just freewheel? I think if he can make a million a year in his free time, he can do whatever the fuck he wants on mine.”
“Structure matters, trust me.”
Salvatore rolled his eyes. “You know what structure did for Nico while he’s been living on my estate because his father couldn’t bother to look at his face? The grout has never looked better. Give me a fucking break, Giorgio. Please.”
“You’re pushing it,” the boss warned.
Salvatore cocked an eyebrow in challenge. “By telling the truth? Nico has partied, fucked, and fought his way out of that type of shit. He spent his entire teenaged life doing those three things in rotation, to the detriment of himself repeatedly. I know, I cleaned up after him every time you called for me to do it. He got just bored enough with a little bit of leeway in Miami to do something and look what came out of it.” Salvatore pointed a finger at Big Mike. “Let him freewheel. Tell him to mind the territory.”
Giorgio’s jaw worked back and forth, teeth grinding. “That is the structure, Sal.”
“Perhaps it would benefit us all,” Salvatore replied calmly, “if you would also start structuring around others. That way I won’t have to, Big Mike won’t have to concern himself with why it’s needed in the first place, and Nico can go about his day without a care. Win, win, win. Hmm?”
Giorgio didn’t get to respond. The door opened and a waitress strolled in with her signature red and black uniform, and a platter full of sandwiches and drinks. A perfect distraction.
Salvatore immediately grabbed a steaming coffee, one of three in open to-go cups. “Thank you, I’ll take this for the road. You don’t mind, Mike, do you?”
“Uh...”
Giorgio tried to stare Salvatore down again. “We’re having a late lunch. Sit with us, eat.”
Salvatore shook his head and reached inside his jacket. Pulling out the two rose-gold placards with black embossed writing on the front, he placed them on the table and slid the postcard-sized invitations down the wood top. Frankie’s graduation-slash-eighteenth birthday party and dinner had a set date and time now, and with these two invitations, the first of many would soon hit mailboxes.
“Something else you asked me for,” Salvatore told the boss. “I’m sure you’ve been talking to Christiano about his side of things, which is still handled. If there isn’t anything else, anything at all, Giorgio, I have other priorities today.”
“Like what?” Big Mike asked around a bite of roast beef and sour bread.
“My daughter.”
“Shit, go, man,” the capo replied right away.
Giorgio wasn’t happy about it. Salvatore could see it written all over his face. Somehow, the boss still waved him off.
“Yeah, yeah, go. Good luck to her today.”
That cemented it for Salvatore.
Giorgio had known.
The bastard.
•••
A chopper flight and short drive later, Salvatore took the open seat in the stadium stands with Sissy at his right, and Carina on his left. Neither of them noticed that he’d dropped in and he figured out why immediately.
Beyond where Nico stood bent against the field barrier, Frankie had the ball. The crowd around and beyond in the stands roared with excitement while Sissy’s crossed knee bounced nervously on her leg. She didn’t look away from the field, sitting back in her seat with arms crossed. Carina, on the other hand, had her eyes closed, red-bottomed heels tapping against cement, while her fingers pressed against her lips.
“There you go, girl,” Sissy murmured suddenly, eyes lighting up.
The crowd hollered louder.
“There you go,” Sissy repeated.
Salvatore zoned in on his daughter heading beyond mid-field to beeline it for the opposition’s net. Behind him, Larkin, his two closest employees and their four kids, stood and started shouting. Even ahead, with the ball back in Frankie’s control, Nico stood straight at the barrier. Arms crossed, he practically stomped his booted foot through the cement as he shouted his approval with a loud get it hollering across the field.
“She’s amazing,” Carina said beside Salvatore. He realized she’d been looking at him when he hadn’t been watching her. “But some of these girls are—”
“That’s part of sports,” Salvatore interrupted, unable to stop his spreading smile. “When you stand out from the rest, you make yourself a target. It’s worth it to take the penalty for some to take out the best, because then you have a real chance at winning. It’s dirty, but it’s sports.”
Carina scrunched her face up in the cutest way, squeaking out, “She spit blood at a ref.”
“What?”
Sissy filled in the details. “First quarter, they went right for the immediate answer. Try to take her out. Racked up five minutes in penalties before the ref called a time out because a Flyers girl pretty much body slammed the next one that tried it.”