When Roses Collide

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Franky held the cellphone out from his already ringing ear. If his boss screamed any louder, he would fucking go deaf. A sneer twisted his lips. The last man who had the balls to talk to him like this ended up being fish food in the Hudson.

"Yes, boss," he muttered into the end of the phone where the mic was, not daring to bring the phone any closer. He scowled over at a chuckling Vinny while more obscenities filled the small, dank cabin in the middle of fucking nowhere they'd been calling home for over two weeks now. It might as well been two goddamn years.

He hated nature. He hated this stupid town. He hated the small cabin whose walls seemed to be closing in, caging him and making him feel as if he was back doing time in Sing Sing. A slight shudder rocked his body at the memory, but he ignored it. As much as he hated those things, they paled in comparison to his loathing of the obnoxious oaf he was being forced to bunk with this whole miserable time.

Vinny snored like a wounded albatross during allergy season, but that wasn't the worst of it. His grammar was lousy and grated on Franky's last nerve. Combine that with his over-the-top New York accent thicker than the steaks served at Peter Luger's Steakhouse, and he was one eye tick away from going postal. The man was also an absolute slob. He left his dirty clothes lying around everywhere, got crumbs and food on every available surface, and he wasn't even going to think about what the asshole did to the bathroom. Another sharp shudder snaked over his skin as he remembered running face first into Vinny's humongous boxers hanging in the shower. He was so uncouth and disgusting. The man belonged in the gorilla exhibit at the Bronx Zoo.

"Yes, boss," he grumbled into the phone again after Big Louie threatened to kill off his entire family if they failed for the second time. Not that the warning bothered him. He didn't have any family left for the mob boss to go after. The last branch on his family tree was his brother, and he had trimmed that motherfucker off himself years ago. Sitting back in his chair, he relaxed a bit. He wasn't the least bit worried about his own safety. Pulling out his one true love, Franky stroked the switchblade he'd had since he was just a snot-nosed teen. With a well-practiced twist of his wrist, it flipped open. Spinning it in his fingers, he felt a sense of peace wash over him as he watched the sharp blade glint in the lamplight. Big Louie could send all of the stupid thugs after him he wanted, they would end up the same. Sliced, diced and rotting in a body bag.

He cast a quick glance over at Vinny who was busily stirring something on the stove. Now, that fat bastard had enough family to populate a burro in New York. For the first time in ages, he felt a slow smile spread across his lips. He should know. Vinny never shut the fuck up about them. It had been a nonstop marathon of stupid stories about his sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles and a plethora of other morons he didn't give a shit about. Big Louie would be doing the world populace a favor by knocking off Vinny's forest of idiots taking up space and wasting air.

"I got it, boss. I assure you, we are working on a plan and we will get the problem taken care of," Franky said, rolling his eyes slightly as the lie eased out of his mouth.

"You'd better," Big Louie growled on the other end. "If I have to come down there, it's your ass I'm coming after."

The call swiftly disconnected, leaving Franky scowling at his cellphone. With precise carefulness, he set it down on the table rather than hurl it against the wall like he wanted.

"Whatta' boss say?" Vinny asked, sniffing the pot and then adding a pinch of something into it before resuming his stirring.

"Don't be a moron, you damn well heard what he had to say," Franky snapped, flipping his blade and catching it by the mother of pearl handle. "Fuck, the whole damn county heard what he had to say."