Solamente: The Associate Has A Secret [REVISED]

CHAPTER 1-2: A Congregation of Wolves

ON TERMINOLOGIES:

Meanings of words/phrases with a (*) can be found in the Glossary of Mafia-Related Terminology.

Chapter 1-2's Umore are:

♪ Boccuccia di rosa by Fred Buscaglione

♪ Tuxedo Junction by The Andrews Sisters

♪ Strangers by Wingtip

Link to the Spotify playlist: https://tinyurl.com/yyj9cx5q

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Gianni Mancuso was trying gamely to maintain a calm exterior but the more people hounded him, the more distressed he felt. For a moment, he looked at the people surrounding him, gazing at each smiling face like a lost child, searching for some recognition.

That's right. All are familiar faces. Some he hadn't seen in years. People whose faces only reminded him of the past. People who, if he were given a choice, wouldn't want to see ever again.

"I just knew I've chosen the right man for the job." Don Flavio Rossi's voice snapped the Lone Wolf out of his troubled thoughts. "If it were some other goombah, my son would've ended up doing the thing himself. The boy can be careless with these things, but I told him over and over that no son or daughter of Flavio Rossi is a murderer. Matters concerning G-men* should be handled by the real experts. Am I right, my friend?" He patted Gianni on the shoulder.

The Lone Wolf didn't know what the Don was talking about at first, until he mentioned the word 'G-men'. He blinked several times, as though trying to get his bearings and thoughts in order before he forced another smile and replied, "Yes. Besides, you wouldn't want to be seen prowling around the red-light district."

"Yes, yes. I heard you found the scoundrel at a whorehouse," Don Rossi said with a laugh and mocking tone. "The Voltolinis' turf, was it? Well, I'll be!"

"Well, if not for the Detail, things would've been more complicated for me," Gianni said. "Details can work wonders."

"My son should come to thank you personally," Don Rossi said as he looked around the banquet hall. Clapping his hands together, he yelled to one of his men, "Fetch Vanni for me, will you? Where's that boy, anyway? Sbrigati!" He then looked at his guests, smiling as he waved a hand. "Now, then. You all must be hungry. Everybody, let's take our seats!"

A roar of cheers and applause came all at once as glasses were raised.

"Buon compleanno, Don Flavio!"

"Auguri di tanta salute!"

"Tanti auguri!"

When the round of cheers and glass-clinking died down, Don Flavio showed Gianni to a large, round table in the center of the hall, where waiters and waitresses scurried back and forth, carrying platters of meat, pasta, and vegetables, and trays filled with hot and cold soups.

"So, let's pick up where we left off," said the Don as he sank into the chair next to Gianni.

Several other guests joined them at the table, most of whom were Dons and Donnas from other families.

Never in his whole life had Gianni felt so small like today. Yet somehow, the spotlight shone on him.

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