Mean Little People

by Dearth, Paige

  He wouldn’t be able to leave the Slayers. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if anything bad happened to Vincent or Salvatore. His heart hung heavy and thudded rapidly inside his chest as he thought about never seeing Kate again.

  Two days later, Tony sat on the sofa with Blast. He was supposed to meet Salvatore and Vincent in Center City that day to find out when Johnny would help him out of the Slayers. Over the days that passed, Tony thought about the story that Smoke had shared with him. He knew if he tried to meet the boys in Center City, he would be followed by one of Razor’s goons and that he would be putting his two childhood friends in harm’s way. So he decided not to meet them, giving up his only hope to be with Kate again.

  Chapter Eighty-Six

  Salvatore glared at his father, who was sitting at his desk, stoking a thick cigar.

  “You made a promise,” Salvatore said accusingly. “Tony didn’t show up today. We think that the Slayers did something to him.”

  Johnny laid the cigar in the ashtray. “I’m sure he realized that he isn’t good enough for the mob. He’s where he belongs, with that group of degenerates. What does he call them? The Sloths?” Johnny said and laughed.

  Salvatore crossed his arms over his chest as Vincent watched, hoping that Johnny didn’t turn on his own son.

  “You know, Pop, I always thought you were a stand-up guy. You used Tony to get what you wanted with no intention of ever helping him.”

  “Oh, I always had intentions of getting him out of the slum. However, it’s on my terms, Salvatore, not on Tony’s and not on yours,” his father growled.

  Salvatore’s face turned crimson, his eyes were narrowed and hard. “If you won’t help him out, then I will.”

  Johnny banged his hand on the desk and stood up. “You will do no such thing. You will do nothing until I give you permission.”

  Salvatore leaned in. “What are you going to do? Kill me?”

  Johnny walked around to the front of his desk and faced Salvatore. He held his gaze for a moment, and then he slapped Salvatore in the face, sending his son flying sideways into the desk. Vincent lurched forward to help steady Salvatore. From behind, Big Paulie put his hand on Vincent’s shoulder. He put his mouth close to Vincent’s ear. “Don’t interfere wit’ this. Ya stay outta of it.”

  Salvatore regained his ground. “Well?” he demanded. “What are you going to do then?”

  Johnny was pissed at his son, but his bravery ignited a deep level of respect for the boy.

  “We go in a week from today,” Johnny said. “Let me be clear with you. Once Tony is out, he will be under your command. If he fucks up, so do you. Son or no son, you want this so much, then you got it.”

  Salvatore gave a terse nod and looked at Vincent. The two left Johnny’s office together, and it wasn’t until Salvatore was in the kitchen that he exhaled.

  ***

  One week later, a rival gang paid off by the Mafia lured the Slayers in through a third-party offering, a drug deal they couldn’t refuse.

  The Slayers drove five cars to the location of the drug deal. Gun in hand, Razor got out of the car and looked to the others, who filed out behind him. Tony was in the back of the group standing next to Smoke. Razor walked over to the waiting pickup truck.

  The man inside the truck put the window down. “Brought a lot of people wit’ cha. A little overkill, don’t cha think?”

  Razor’s silver teeth glistened as his lips turned up into a wicked smile. “Yeah, well, when we gotta deal through a dealer we don’t know, we take extra measures to make sure nothin’ goes wrong. Where’s the stuff?”

  The man opened his door and stepped onto the grassy surface. He walked to the back of the pickup truck, and Razor and four other gang members followed. The man released the tailgate and dropped to the ground, rolling under the truck. Confused, Razor turned and looked around him. In an instant bullets were flying, and he watched gang members get shot and drop to the ground.

  Razor raced to the other side of the truck for protection, but they were surrounded. The gang members were shooting at the cars that had descended upon them. Tony quickly fled inside of Smoke’s truck to be shielded from the stray bullets. When the shooting slowed, Tony got out of the truck and stayed low to the ground. The darkness of the night made it hard to get a clear target, and the guns being fired sparked the black night with jagged, blinding light.

  Tony heard Razor’s voice. “Stop! Hold up!”

  There was an angry fear in the shrieking words. The gang stopped firing their guns and followed Razor’s voice. Razor was being held around the neck by a humongous man. His arms were thick and tattooed. Razor had his hands up by his sides. The gang members cautiously moved closer.

  The headlights of a car turned on, and suddenly Razor looked like he was on stage about to give a performance. Tony took his aim on the monster that had Razor in a throat lock. A suited figure walked cavalierly over to Razor, and the headlights doused the man. Tony removed his finger from the trigger of his gun when he recognized Johnny Morano.

  Johnny, much taller than Razor, leaned down and looked him in the face.

  “So are you the leader of this…” Johnny waved his hand toward the gang standing in random places, their guns tossed off to the side and mobsters behind each of them, “disgusting pack of wild animals?”

  “Fuck you,” Razor said in a garbled voice.

  The man holding Razor tightened his fist and swung it into Razor’s mouth, knocking out two silver teeth. Blood gushed from the site of impact.

  Johnny pulled a cigarette from a pocket inside his suit jacket. He lit the cigarette and blew the smoke into Razor’s face.

  “As I was trying to explain before this maggot spoke…” Johnny raised his voice to make sure everyone could hear him. “Where is Tony Bruno?”

  Smoke gave Tony a quick glance; three mobsters now stood between them. Tony stepped forward. His heart was racing, and he thought it would combust in his chest.

  “Oh, there’s Tony. Come over here,” Johnny commanded.

  Tony swiftly walked to Johnny. His palms were sweating, and he staggered slightly as his legs went weak. It felt like hours to Tony, but was only seconds before he was standing next to Johnny.

  Johnny roughly grabbed Tony’s forearm. “What’s this asshole’s name?”

  Tony looked out at the other gang members; they were seething with hatred for him.

  “Razor,” Tony mumbled.

  “Razor…what a peculiar name.” Johnny grabbed a handful of Razor’s hair. “Tell me, why do they call you Razor?”

  Razor remained silent; he was gripped tight with anger.

  “Seems as though the cat got his tongue,” Johnny said, turning back to Tony. “So you tell me, Tony—why do they call him Razor?”

  “His sharp tongue,” Tony stated, not understanding Johnny’s intent.

  “Oh, I see. That makes sense to me. Well, my name is Johnny. I’m sure you know who I am. Let me explain something to you, Razor. In my line of work, we make sure that our crimes are very personal. Now, if I didn’t know your name, I wouldn’t have been able to personalize my visit for you.”

  “What the fuck do ya want, ya goddamn douchebag?” Razor blurted.

  “Well now, there it is. There’s that razor-sharp tongue of yours. It would seem to me that you would refrain from opening your diseased mouth and letting shit fall out of it. I mean, in the predicament you’re in right now, any smart man would keep his fucking mouth shut.”

  Johnny took a final drag from his cigarette, threw it to the ground, and smashed it under his expensive Italian-leather shoe.

  “Razor, here’s what we are going to do. Tony will be coming with us now. He has done some work for me, and I think that he’s better off serving me, instead of you. Do you have a problem with that?”

  Razor glowered at Tony and then looked back at Johnny. “Bruno is a useless piece of shit. Ya can take ’im and shove ’im up your stank dago ass. Ya don’t scare me. You�
�re just a piece of shit that don’t know how to get your hands dirty, makin’ your men do it.”

  Johnny looked at the ground. A strained smiled was on his lips. Then Johnny grabbed Razor by the neck and slammed him into the truck. The mobster holding Razor pulled his hair back and pressed his jaw down. Johnny pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and gripped Razor’s tongue.

  “That’s where you’re mistaken, Razor. I don’t have a problem doing any of the dirty work, as you call it. I’m going to leave you with a parting gift, so you’ll remember who you’re dealing with.”

  Johnny pulled out a box cutter from his other pocket and slowly pushed the blade up. As he did, Razor’s eyes grew wide, and he thrashed against the man holding him.

  Johnny took his time putting the blade into Razor’s mouth, and, holding his tongue tight with the handkerchief, he sliced off Razor’s tongue with deliberate slow movements. Blood gushed and streaked down Razor’s chin, and finally, Johnny drew back his hand with the muscular organ inside the handkerchief. He pulled on the waist of Razor’s jeans and dropped the tongue down his pants.

  Razor was screaming, the expression on his bloody face was a mixture of pain and loathing. Not able to remain calm, Johnny punched Razor in the face, and he flopped to his knees. Johnny punched and kicked him until he himself was exhausted. Then Johnny straightened up, brushed his hair back into place, and readjusted his suit jacket. He turned to the other gang members.

  “Let this be a lesson for all of you. You all think you’re big and bad, but you’re not. You’re nothing but a group of losers. Remember that, and don’t let me find any of you within ten miles of my neighborhood.”

  Johnny walked back to his car and stopped. “One more thing,” he announced. “I know every single person that belongs to the Slayers, even those whore bitches of yours. Be mindful of your actions because they can get you all slaughtered.”

  Tony threw a last glance at Smoke over his shoulder as he followed behind Johnny and slid into the backseat of the car next to him.

  “What the fuck just happened?” Tony said, still reeling from the surprise attack.

  “You just became indebted to me,” Johnny said, with a coldness that sent a trickle of fear up Tony’s spine.

  Chapter Eighty-Seven

  Tony followed Johnny into his office, and Johnny closed the door. Tony stood watching, not knowing what to do. Johnny went around his desk. He sat down in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He stared at Tony as if he were watching a movie. Johnny sat forward in his chair, his body stiff and his lips tightly pressed together.

  “Now you are free of your scumbag friends,” Johnny said.

  “Yeah, thank you. I didn’t know what was goin’ on at first. And then…”

  “Shut up! I’m not your friend, and I don’t care about what you think. Let’s get down to business. First, you will need a place to live. I’m going to let you live in one of my apartments on North Broad Street. Your rent will be deducted from your pay.”

  Tony shuffled. “How much is my rent?”

  Johnny glared at him. “Does it really matter? Stop asking stupid questions, and try to pay attention. Do not interrupt me again.”

  Tony’s muscles tightened under his clothing. He held his breath in to keep from exploding.

  “You will work for me and do whatever you are told. If you are able to prove that you’re worth keeping around, I will reevaluate your value to the family business. Your job is to do what I say, when I say it. You keep your mouth shut and your eyes open. If anyone asks if you work for me, you are to deny it. Understood?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. Now, go out to the kitchen and join Salvatore and Vincent. They’re waiting for you.”

  “I got a question,” Tony said boldly.

  “What?”

  “Why do ya hate me? What did I ever do to ya?”

  Johnny shot up from his seat and leaned over his desk. “Because you do not have control over your emotions and actions. You don’t think things through. You don’t consider how your decisions will impact you and others in the future. That makes you a loose cannon and a danger to the people with whom you associate. So, what you need to do from now on is think about the things you do and say. Understand that if you bring any trouble to this family, I will fucking kill you with my bare hands. Now, get out of my office.”

  Tony averted his eyes to the ground. “I got another question.”

  “Jesus Christ, what?” Johnny snarled.

  “When do I get to move into my apartment?”

  “Salvatore will bring you over there tonight. The piece of shit who lived there before you, left some furniture that you can use.”

  Tony nodded. He looked Johnny in the eyes. “When do I get paid?”

  Johnny huffed. “I see you have a lot to learn. You will be paid weekly.”

  Tony’s head hung.

  “Do you have a problem?”

  Tony shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “Well…I…I only got ten bucks on me. I’m gonna need some money for food and stuff.”

  Johnny reached into his pocket and removed his wallet. He opened it up, and Tony saw a stack of hundred-dollar bills. Johnny pulled one out and handed it Tony. “Here, this should keep you until next week. Don’t come back asking for more until pay day. You need to figure out how to make it last until then.”

  Tony reached forward and took the money. He turned and left the office, closing the door behind him. He took his time walking through the house so he could gather himself. When he entered the kitchen, Salvatore got to his feet and greeted him.

  “Good to see you, man,” Salvatore said as the two hugged.

  When Tony saw Salvatore and Vincent, the evening’s events faded away. He went to the kitchen table and shook Vincent’s hand before he sat down.

  “How’d it go?” Vincent asked.

  “It was crazy. The mob rushed in, and before I even knew what was goin’ on, I saw Johnny swoop over, grab Razor, and cut his fuckin’ tongue out.”

  “What did my father say to you just now?”

  Tony rested his elbows on the table. “I’m gonna work for him. He’s gonna let me rent one of his apartments on North Broad. I don’t know, Salvatore, he didn’t give me much more info than that and wasn’t too happy when I tried to ask ’im any questions. He told me that I don’t think about how my decisions are gonna impact me later. He’s right about that. I’m gonna try and do better wit’ my decisions from now on. What do you know?”

  Salvatore leaned in closer to Tony. “Pretty much the same as he told you. The good news is that we’ll be working together.”

  “What pretty boy is tryin’ to say,” Vincent chimed in, “is that you’ll be working for him. But don’t worry ’bout it. I work for him too, or so he thinks.”

  “That’s fine wit’ me,” Tony said. He breathed deeply. At least working for Salvatore he could be himself. Tony leaned back in the chair. “How’s Kate doin’?”

  Salvatore peeled an orange he’d plucked from a bowl on the table.

  “Kate is fine. Vincent and I have been checking on her. I’ve been giving Donata some cash so that she could live there a little longer…at least until you got out of the Slayers. Kate really wants to see you. She doesn’t know anything, and I expect you to keep your mouth shut about what went down tonight. Make up a believable story to satisfy her.”

  Tony reached his hand across the table, took a slice of orange, and shoved it into his mouth. The sweet juice danced over his tongue. He hung his head over the back of the chair and looked up at the ceiling. For a moment he was lost in the ornate woodwork that had been custom built for the Moranos.

  “How long ya think it takes to learn how to do something like that?” Tony said, pointing to the circles of wood around the tiers of the beveled ceiling.

  Salvatore and Vincent looked up.

  “Don’t know, don’t care,” Vincent said.

  “I’m thinkin’ it must feel real good
to be that good at somethin’.”

  Tony looked at his friends.

  “You’re good at what you do too,” Salvatore said.

  Tony laughed. “Oh, yeah? What the hell am I good at?”

  “You’re a good friend who can use a gun better than some of those old geezers that have been shooting their entire lives. Speaking of that, who taught you how to shoot?”

  “Nobody taught me. I just did it. Sort of like breathing. When I hold a gun, it feels like it’s a part of my hand…ya know, like my fingers.”

  Salvatore pushed his chair back and stood. “Let’s get you to your new place.”

  Tony stood. He grabbed an apple and orange from the bowl and waved the fruit at Salvatore. “Breakfast—I gotta have somethin’ to eat when I wake up.”

  Chapter Eighty-Eight

  On the ride to Tony’s apartment, Vincent jabbered about all the women he was sleeping with. It was white noise and music to Tony’s ears. Finally, Salvatore pulled the car over, and Tony looked out the window at the twin home.

  “This it?” Tony said, pointing to the brick house. It was an old, narrow building with two front doors. It seemed to Tony that the builder had thought about building row homes and stopped with the first building.

  Salvatore opened the car door. “Yeah. There are eight apartments, two on the top and two on the bottom in each house.”

  The boys walked toward the back of the house, where there were two sets of metal stairs. Tony followed Salvatore to a door on the second floor—the door to his new home, a place he could finally call his own.

  The entry door of Tony’s new apartment led into the kitchen. Tony stepped inside and cringed, his nose filled with the sour, rancid smell of rotted food and urine. He scanned the room and shuffled through the trash strewn over the floor. The kitchen sink and small counter on either side of it were piled with dishes, pots, and small, broken appliances. There were five cabinets, two on the wall next to the sink and three below. Two cabinet doors were missing. A thick coating of dust clung to the greasy appliances and counters like gray peach fuzz.