Regan Harris Box Set

by Kelly Wood

  “My insane sense of style?”

  “Your tenacity when facing a challenge. Now, not so much.”

  “What does that mean?” I glanced at him sideways.

  “Now that I hope to spend the rest of my life with you, I’m pretty sure it will give me gray hair and heartburn.” Gray tapped the photograph again. “I want you to remember the look on Frank’s face in this picture when dealing with him. He may be all smiles and suits now, but this guy clawed his way to the top.”

  Chapter Five

  Gray tried to keep the moving vehicle steady as I applied mascara and lipstick. My hands shook from the adrenaline still coursing through my body. Gray surprised me after the mob museum with a stop at the Stratosphere Hotel and Casino before heading to the Magari to change. The unscheduled stop set us off schedule. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my hands to apply another coat of mascara. I gave up and moved on to my lips. A smile was frozen on my face from taking the SkyJump offered at the Stratosphere.

  “Why the SkyJump?” I asked, the words loosening the frozen smile on my face.

  “My family stresses you out, this will take off all the excess energy you have built up, relieving all of your stress and anxiety during dinner. You will have a big smile on your face for the next few hours.” Gray reached over and squeezed my knee with his right hand while driving with the left. He glanced my way and smiled before turning back to the road.

  The SkyJump had been on my bucket list for years. The attendant had barely counted down when I flung myself over the edge. The wind whipped my hair behind me as my descent started to slow down nearer the ground. The rush of free falling had done its job. All of the nerves and anxiety over dinner were dispelled.

  I was still undecided on whether or not to believe Gray about his family history. He clearly believed it. I supposed it could be true. It was just so... out there. Or maybe I didn’t want it to be true? If his family was mob-related, then I would be marrying into it. Was that something I could live with? Was that something I wanted to live with? I left the questions unanswered. I wasn’t looking forward to dinner tonight, but on the other hand, it would give me a chance to watch Gray’s father for signs of mob behavior.

  Who was I kidding? What signs? What clues? Other than the Godfather movies, I was in the dark about mafia life.

  “Tell me more about the mob,” I said.

  “Anything in particular?”

  “Like how does someone move up in the business? Like Frank?”

  “There’s a hierarchy that exists. First, you have to become an Earner. An Earner is a low man on the totem pole. He has to prove his courage, toughness, and resourcefulness right from the start.”

  “How would you do that? Just get into some street fights and hope you win? How do you know you are a good fighter? I’d like to think I’m tough, but I could never take a punch and keep on going. I don’t even need to be in a fist fight to know that.” I used my fingernail to clean the lipstick that I’d smeared over my lip line.

  “Slow down, Sparky. One question at a time,” Gray said.

  “Sorry. You go. I’ll listen. Question and answer period at the end.”

  “From the top. Let’s take Frank as an example. He knew from a young age that he wanted to be ‘affiliated.’ He started acting the part early in life. He started fights as a boy. He became the schoolyard bully. Now, this is all speculation because I wasn’t even alive then, but I’ve seen this cycle before. Some kids are naturally drawn to the darker side of life. Growing up, going to college and holding a nine-to-fiver does not appeal to them. The fast cash, easy money and perceived excitement of the mob does.”

  “What do you mean ‘perceived’ excitement?” I asked.

  “You find traveling exciting. Some people find it stressful. Most people find constant lying and stealing stressful. It’s stressful to constantly have to keep up a façade, to keep the lies straight, and always be on the take. Some people find stealing and lying exciting in theory. Once you are in the life, you realize that you can’t trust anyone. Your best friends will end up either dead or in jail. That’s if they haven’t ratted you out first for your illegal activity. You are always looking over your shoulder and questioning your friends’ loyalty. It takes a toll. It is a very stressful life. Nothing about it is exciting or thrilling.”

  “Why didn’t you find it exciting and thrilling? Since you were raised in the life,” I asked. My disbelief evident in my voice.

  “When I was young, I didn’t know what my father did. My parents sheltered us. They sent us to private schools where we wouldn’t mingle with the kids of their acquaintances. I was in middle school before my father had the ‘talk’ with me. Most kids get the sex talk from their parents. I got the ‘by the way, son, we’re criminals’ talk.”

  “What did you say?” I put my lipstick back in my purse and turned my full attention on Gray.

  “I didn’t say anything for a long time. I sat in this wingback chair in my dad’s office and stared at the scar on his chin. That scar made me piece together all of the things that had never added up.”

  “Like?” I asked.

  “Why kids would pick fights with me all the time. I could never figure it out until I sat staring at that scar. The other kids knew who my father was, or what he was, I should say. They probably had overheard their parents whispering amongst themselves. They were testing me. They wanted to see how tough I was. They also constantly mocked me. I couldn’t figure it out. It didn’t seem to be over the amount of money their parents had versus my parents, which is common in private schools. Kids are cruel, though. It upset me, but I didn’t really know why I was upset. Does that make sense?”

  “Sure. Did you get your rear end beat a lot?”

  I was joking. Looking at Gray now, anyone would be a fool to try to take him in a fight. He was six feet five inches and all muscle. He was beautiful, like a Greek god.

  “I did, at first, but then my dad hired a trainer to teach me hand-to-hand combat skills. It gave me a huge leg up. I only had to win a few fights before word got around to leave me alone.”

  “Good point. I’m sure you kept the training a secret and just let them think you were a natural?” I asked.

  “Of course, babe. Why ruin my fun?” Gray shot me a grin.

  “What else did you piece together that day with your dad?”

  “People gave him a wide berth. He never had a chance to complain about a perceived problem because it was handled before it was even acknowledged. And why some parents wouldn’t let their kids come over and play with me.”

  Gray’s voice sounded sad in that last sentence. My heart broke a little for the kid he used to be.

  “What did you think your dad did for work before the ‘talk’?” I asked.

  “I thought he was a businessman. That’s it. What business? Who knows? He wore suits every day but worked out of his office at home. To a four-year-old, a business suit is enough to make you a businessman. I didn’t ask to know more. I thought that’s all there was.”

  I chuckled at the thought. It was very true. A child’s mind was very linear.

  “What else came together?” I asked.

  “We always had guns hidden everywhere around the house. A semi-automatic in the china cabinet. A revolver taped under the coffee table. We even had small sections of walls that could be punched through where guns were hidden. Only a select few knew their locations. I just thought my parents were huge gun enthusiasts.”

  Mental note: Find hidden wall guns. How cool would that be?

  “Back to earning. How is that done?” I asked.

  “Earners aren’t given jobs, it’s up to them to figure out how to bring money in. If I remember correctly, Frank used to shake down drug dealers. The dealers would pay him a fee to be allowed to deal on a specific corner. Part of that money got kicked up to Tony Bianchi, who ran his crew. Tony was a capo or captain. Capos run the different street crews. Tony is a few years older than Frank and was already a mad
e man.”

  “Just to make sure I’m following. To be made, Tony had killed by then and was running his own crew?” I asked.

  “Killing someone proves their loyalty to the family, but all of the heads of any mob families in the city have to vote on who actually makes the cut.”

  The last comment on killing made me look at the two men in Frank’s office a little differently. At least Tony, since Gray just told me he had killed before.

  “So, every ‘Don’ voted on whether or not Tony got to be a ‘made man’?” I asked.

  “Yes, but really Sal and Tony were only voted in as courtesy to Antonio. Behind their backs, the other guys called them Huey and Duey. They were nothing but a joke.”

  “How did Frank get to be Tony’s boss?” I asked.

  “Rumor has it, Antonio Bianchi recognized his potential. Frank moved up quickly after his other son went missing. Truthfully, he was probably already showing his worth to Antonio. I told you this already.”

  “Was the other son called Louie?”

  “Ha ha.” Gray gave me an eye roll. “Never. Like I said before, Guy was charming and smart and a natural-born leader. His street name was ‘Magic.’”

  “Magic? That seems like a weak name.”

  “Magico means ‘charming’ in Italian, but really it’s because Guy was like magic. He could settle the most violent of disputes by just walking into the room. Like magic. He could recruit kids off the streets to be Earners after only one meeting. He could...”

  “Leap tall buildings in a single bound?” I leaned against the passenger door to observe Gray while we talked. The scenery outside of the window was of no interest to me.

  “Of course! The stories may be exaggerated now that he’s gone. I wouldn’t be surprised if building leaping did make the list now.”

  “So, Guy disappears, Antonio realized he had no hope for a protégé unless he brought Frank on board, who isn’t even Italian. Am I right? This was all a power play. Without someone for Antonio to groom to take over, then a little turf war could have broken out. Right? What I don’t get is why Sal and Tony work for Frank. Why wouldn’t they try a coup and overthrow Frank?” I asked.

  “Frank keeps them close for a reason. Tony and Sal think they have power, but they are just figureheads.”

  “‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer’ kind of thing?” I asked.

  “Exactly. Honestly, I don’t think Tony is smart enough to realize he could make a play for the helm, or that Sal has the charisma,” Gray said. He turned into a long winding driveway. The front gate stood open for us. The country club here was A-list all the way. Nothing but the finest food, wine, and service. I would love to interview the servers and bartenders here. I bet they could tell me stories for days about the members and their secrets.

  “Sal has hard eyes,” I said.

  “Stay clear of him. He’s rumored to have more than fifty kills under his belt. That’s unheard of in this life. Usually, you get caught or killed before you can get close to a number like that.”

  “I feel like that should be impressive.”

  “Depends on who you ask, I guess.”

  The clubhouse loomed over me like a warning sign. Only rich people would name the main building of a private resort the ‘clubhouse.’ A clubhouse to me was a fort the neighborhood kids built in the woods with scrap material, not the three-story, sprawling mansion before me. My underarms dampened at the thought of what was to come. My fingertips tingled as nerves fired through my body. I relaxed my shoulders and tried to calm myself before I made a blithering fool out of myself. I lifted my arms and pointed the air conditioning vents at my underarms, hoping the air would cool me off before I left sweat stains on my dress.

  Two young men stood outside the clubhouse waiting to valet the cars. Why didn’t I ever see female valets? I once asked a valet why it was such a male-dominated field. He said because women couldn’t drive stick shifts and walked away. I took secret pleasure in watching his face when he noticed my five-speed transmission. It’d made my night. Women could be valets, but we just chose not to because running through the rain on some nights would be disastrous for our hair and make-up.

  I exited the vehicle and looked up at the mansion fashioned after a southern plantation house, all white with giant columns across the front. I stood up straighter and smoothed my dress. Hopefully no one would notice that I was a lowly farm girl from Indiana and bar me from entering.

  “Ready?” Gray asked, extending his arm to me.

  “Nope, but here goes nothin’,” I said.

  Chapter Six

  Two valets pulled open the outer doors exposing us to the opulence of the country club. The entry was a large open space showing straight through to the wall of windows on the back side. Only a grand, sweeping staircase blocked some of the view. Through the windows I could see the golf course, its pristine lawns a gorgeous background for the guests. The sea of green was so out of place in the desert, it looked like a movie backdrop.

  I loved coming here when we visited Vegas because of all the grass. Desert landscaping depresses me with its varying shades of brown. Seeing the grass here go on and on reminded me of home and of running barefoot in the summers. It always brought a smile to my face.

  “Mr. Thomas, Ms. Harris, your party is waiting for you at the table. Follow me, please,” the hostess said.

  I was terrible. I could never remember the hostess’s name, but she always knew mine. It was an amazing talent of each of the staff members. I bet they got beaten in the back rooms if a member were called by the wrong name or not by a name at all. A physical punishment was the only way I’d remember them all.

  Gray’s parents and another gentleman had their backs to us as we approached the table. I had been under the belief that there would only be four of us dining tonight. I welcomed the distraction of another guest.

  “You are in for a treat,” Gray whispered in my ear. His hand rested on the small of my back leading me to our table. The touch sent tingles up my spine.

  “Who is that?” I whispered back.

  “My Uncle Bob. You are going to love him.” Gray stepped around me and leaned down to kiss his mother’s cheek.

  “Hello, Mother. Father,” Gray said.

  “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas,” I said with a smile.

  Gray’s mother acknowledged me with a nod of her head while Gray’s father stood to hug me hello. I resisted the urge to pat him down. I bet he had a gun tucked somewhere.

  “Uncle Bob, this is Regan Harris,” Gray said.

  “Regan, so nice to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you.” Uncle Bob pumped my hand like he was trying to get water from a well. My head snapped up and down with the movement.

  “Lovely to meet you, sir,” I said. I couldn’t return the compliment. Gray has never said anything about an Uncle Bob.

  “Sir? Call me Bob.” He slapped my back to emphasize his comment. Gray caught me as I lurched forward. Bob was on the smaller side, build-wise, but packed quite a punch.

  Bob kept dinner lively and entertaining. He told stories of being robbed in Bangkok and sleeping on a beach in Jamaica. Bob regaled us with stories of the type of adventures I loved to have. Staying in hostels and seeing the world from every angle sounded like the life to me. It was very hard to picture him and Mrs. Thomas coming from the same family. One of them must have been switched at birth.

  Bob leaned back in his chair, always casual. Mrs. Thomas sat up so straight a yardstick must have been attached to her spine. My back hurt just to look at her. I sat somewhere in between, grinning. True to Gray’s word, the thoughts of jumping off of the Stratosphere kept a giant smile on my face. I needed the distraction from staring at Gray’s father.

  The other mafia boss. I eyed him throughout dinner.

  Michael Thomas looked like any rich businessman. His suit was handmade, and his loafers were fine Italian leather. I tried to picture him ordering a hit on someone, but it was hard. Maybe his assistant di
d the dirty work? Or maybe Gray’s mother ordered the hits? Michael was tall and lean, like Gray. Dark hair and blue-gray eyes. I studied his features. A shadow of Gray could be seen in them, in the chin line and hair line, but Michael’s nose was straighter and his eyes were a different shape. Close to Gray’s, but not quite.

  Gray’s dad was...likable...and very dad-like. He would be my first choice if I needed help with a problem here. Michael would listen, help you make a game plan and then support you while you worked through your issue. Very similar to Gray.

  When Gray insinuated that his was the other family, I’d laughed. It was definitely my go-to response in times of stress. My friend, Toni, always said, “laugh until you get it,” referring to jokes. I just laughed until another emotion rose to the surface.

  I was still waiting.

  A million questions went through my mind.

  Did they know John Gotti? Was The Godfather an accurate portrayal? Was Tony Soprano portrayed as a viable Don? Why were mob bosses called Dons, anyway? Were horses’ heads really used? Wouldn’t a mouse or cat head be easier to transport and handle? Or were they killing the horses on site? What did they do with the body? Were there such a thing as ‘Cleaners’ like in Pulp Fiction?

  These were things I needed to know, but Gray said I could only ask him questions like those. I thought he was afraid that I would offend someone. Or maybe his parents didn’t know that I knew, yet?

  “What are you working on now, Regan?” Gray’s mother, Mary Francis asked.

  Mary Francis had always been nice to me in a bothersome-child kind of way. I mistook it for genuine kindness when I first met her and was rather hurt when I realized that she was merely acting. In my family, if you were nice and kind to someone it was because you actually liked them and wanted to be nice and kind. In this family, it was an act that was put on for the benefit of everyone else. Especially anyone who may be watching. Unbeknown to most, the Thomas family was actually the longest-running show in Vegas.