Daughter of the Mob (Sample)

12 | Smoke

"It takes many steppingstones, you know, for a man to rise. None can do it unaided." — Joseph Bonanno

A COUPLE OF DAYS AFTER Copacabana, Johnny was invited to a family gathering at Don Roberto's house with the rest of the crew.

Johnny was both relieved and regretful to have told Pamela about the business, or at least in vague terms. She didn't know half of it, a quarter of it even, and she never would. However, it wouldn't hurt to have a middleman down on Fifth Avenue handling operations within the store now that Friedenberg was gone. Johnny also knew that Pamela was too scared to leave, and if she ever dared to, he could blackmail her with her newfound knowledge of the mob, though he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Johnny had told Roberto about the arrangement, but had left out the part about Pamela knowing too much. Besides, she was a nice girl, the kind who seemed to care about other people more than herself. If Johnny was able to forge some kind of friendship with her, he was certain she would remain compliant. 

Lorenzo and Sal, Tony, Antonio, Luca, and Marco: the respective underbosses and capos of the Mancini clan had accepted Don Roberto's invitation for some good Italian food and wine, except for John, who claimed a sore throat. They all hunkered down around the table, ready to enjoy the food.

"So, how's John?" Isabella asked as she sat down to eat.

Once again, Isabella Mancini had outdone herself.

Steaming spaghetti, meatballs, tomato sauce, tortellini, risotto, gnocchi, arancini, cassata, and cannolis amassed the sprawling oak table, carved by Roberto's expert hands. Defrosted green grapes from Roberto's vineyard were placed at the centre of the table, proving that he contributed at least a little to the massive feast his wife had prepared all day.

Though he had never actually been to Italy, Johnny decided that the celebratory meal smelled just about as Italian as any kind of nourishment could get.

The Mancini abode was ready for Christmas, complete with a Christmas tree from Jersey, ornaments, lights, tinsel, and an oversized plastic Santa perched out on the pillowy, recently snow-covered lawn.

A pitcher of alcoholic eggnog was left on the kitchen counter, but every time the Mancini kids attempted to steal a little, their mamma reprimanded them with a harsh warning and a sharp slap to the head.

Tony and Johnny exchanged a glance at the mention of the enigmatic John. They had both complained about John's lecherous presence within the family. He rarely attended family meetings, and when he did, he was completely obtuse and ignorant.

Behind Don Roberto's back, the rest of the crew had fondly nicknamed John Mancini facciabrutt', paying homage to his uncomely features and terrible body odour. To make matters worse, John was a self-proclaimed medigan', an Italian-American who had lost his roots. To his family's disgrace, he didn't speak a word of Italian and often declared that he was a red and blue-blooded American.

"He's been sick, the poor kid," Roberto said sympathetically, though a sharp frown revealed his distaste for the subject. However unhappy Roberto was with having John as an underboss within the Family, nothing could remove the reality that John was Roberto's nephew.

Johnny still didn't understand why Roberto wouldn't just demote John into a capo, but he wasn't about to make the Boss' decisions for him.

Marco Mancini stiffened at the expression on Don Roberto's face, clearly uncomfortable at the mention of his brother.

Blood is thicker than water, Johnny heard Roberto say in the back of his mind.

"Poor thing," Isabella sighed, dropping a helping of dull yellow gnocchi onto Johnny's plate, although he hadn't asked for more.