The Lagotti Family Series

by Leopold Borstinski

  Pete got out of Brian’s car and Brian repeated the two magic words:

  “Game on.”

  Then he drove off, leaving Pete on his own in the yard.

  BY FOUR O’CLOCK Brian was off to the firing range, secure in the knowledge the rides were sorted and the handguns were mighty fine. He only went through fifty rounds. Just enough to give himself an excuse to clean the barrels again, but sufficient for him to have confidence the revolvers were in good working order.

  He planted his feet squarely and imagined taking down the guard or a do-good civilian. Brian never enjoyed shooting civilians even if it was only a graze-shot or a through-and-through. He figured people should stick to their own and not get bothered with other people’s business. So Johnny Come Latelys should keep their noses out of his business and not get themselves shot.

  He didn’t like the fact they got hurt. It wasn’t their fault, they just got in his way. If he’d ever sat in front of a psychologist, he would have been asked why he felt no responsibility for his actions under those circumstances. But Brian would never be with a shrink. No way, not while there was breath in his body.

  Instead, he was squaring off against an FBI target, pretending the silhouette was someone getting in his way tomorrow. And the stupid thing was there was going to be no trouble tomorrow because Frank had been planning this for goddamn months. The guy had been eating, drinking and pissing the job since last summer. Andrew’d told him he’d been planning it while he was still in the joint. This was one seriously planned job.

  Brian knew if Frank hadn’t got it under control then his broad would sure as hell know what was going on in the bank. She’d been fucking the teller since the summer too. She was the one who’d saved their bacon a couple of months ago when the bank stepped up security. Mary Lou and Frank were good guys and Brian trusted them completely. Unlike Pete, who was a prize motherfucker ‘n’ no mistakin’.

  The bullets kept on squeezing out of that barrel and almost every single one formed a cluster around the primary target of the silhouette, the heart. Only two missed because Brian couldn’t resist aiming for a couple of head shots, but he knew the best way to take someone down was to aim at the torso. It was the largest part of the body so you were almost bound to hit something. Figured.

  With the practice over, all they had to do was be patient and wait for dawn’s early light to cast a shadow on their land.

  38

  FRANKIE SLUMPED DOWN at his usual table, which has been cleared especially once he had arrived. A couple of girls were on stage and everything was good in the house of Lagotti.

  A waitress in red hot pants and matching bra sidled up to him and took his order of a vodka lime. All during the transaction, Lagotti kept his eyes squarely on her nipples, which were more than clearly visible under her underwear. He didn’t even notice the dainty bow, smack in the middle front. Still staring at the nipples waving in front of him, Lagotti asked: “Where’s August?”

  “Oh, we have no August here, I don’t think.”

  “Don’t shit with me. You new here? I don’t remember your... face?” An upward curl of the left side of Lagotti’s lips.

  “Yes, started this week... Maybe August just hasn’t been in recently.”

  “Doesn’t matter. What’s your name, missy?”

  “April.”

  “Call me Frank. Ask the other girls about me if you fancy.”

  “I will Frank. Shall I get your vodka lime now?”

  “That would be wonderful. On the rocks, mind.”

  “Sure thing.”

  April swished away leaving Lagotti with the opportunity to survey her underage firm buttocks as she departed for the bar. Jailbait ass. She’d be up on stage by the end of the week and on her back by the end of the weekend. That’s the business we are in, he said to himself, strumming his fingers on the armrest to the beat of the music engulfing him.

  The girls on stage changed around and two more appeared wearing nothing more than their underwear, a pretty smile and a pout. One was ebony with pointy tits and the other was pale white with round ones. Lagotti focused his attention on the round titties. He didn’t believe in miscegenation or anything close and with Kennedy gone, the niggers would stay in their place, he thought.

  Lagotti stood up and dropped a Jackson in Blondie’s thong. It was dark blue and contrasted with her skin in a glorious way. She kept on dancing and nodded a thank you to him. He smiled back at her and stood by the stage until she came round again. Then he dropped two Jacksons inside the thong and made sure his hand brushed her front when he put the notes in her underwear.

  This time he received a wink from her and, at that moment, he got the prize of being up close when she threw her bra to the side of the stage. That placed her nipples only inches from his face, almost close enough to bite.

  Lagotti sat back down in his seat and sipped at his drink, keeping an eye on the blonde all the while. He signaled to April, who came over and said: “How can I help, Frank?”

  “What’s the name of the blonde on stage?”

  “She’s... um... May, I think.”

  “You gotta get better at the names, April.”

  “Sure thing sir.” April had obviously had a word backstage about Frank.

  “Don’t sweat it.”

  “Okay.”

  “Arrange a private showing for me with May when she’s off the stage.”

  “Sure thing, Frank.”

  He left fifty on the table for April and took the remains of his drink with him. After he fucked May from behind, Lagotti stuck around just to watch the show. Despite him having funded countless jobs, Lagotti was still quite excited about this particular one and knew he wouldn’t be going to sleep any time soon.

  NOT FOR THE first time that day, Andrew headed back to the apartment. He walked from Lansdowne Station to the front door on autopilot. Key in the lock and stepped inside.

  Brian was sat on the sofa with a cigarette in one hand and a glass of clear liquid in the other.

  “Smoking?” he enquired.

  “Game on, game on.”

  “Drink?”

  “No thanks, already have one.” Andrew smiled out of one of the corners of his mouth.

  “Funny. What are you drinking?”

  Brian’s turn to smile. “Water, don’t worry. Game on, remember.”

  Andrew returned a genuine smile this time.

  “Game on. At last.”

  He walked straight to the bedroom and hid the gun and ammo in his bedside table drawer. Then Andrew slumped down on the sofa next to Brian, glad to take the weight off his feet. Putting his arm around Brian’s neck, Andrew pecked him on the cheek and whispered in his ear: “How’s your head?”

  “Just fine, thanks. Two strong mugs of Java and the room stopped spinning. Eventually.”

  Andrew stroked Brian’s upper leg and planted his lips on Brian’s cheek again.

  “No worries. Our world is changing from tomorrow. Changing for the better.”

  “Sure thing, muchacho.”

  “Come to the kitchen with me.”

  “Oh, really?” in a suggestive manner.

  “Oh yes, we’ve got some vegetables to chop. Tonight is casserole night.”

  “Oh. Really?” no longer suggestive, more wondering where the meat on his plate was coming from.

  Brian was glad he’d had a steak for lunch. A casserole was a very sensible way to use up as much of the fridge contents as possible, but it was a pretty boring meal for a last supper before the game tomorrow.

  They had fun in the kitchen though, rudely holding carrots and licking the oddly shaped ones like dicks. Once they sat down to eat, the laughing ceased. Both Brian and Andrew turned their thoughts to the following day and all they wanted and expected of it.

  BRIAN FACED ANDREW at the table they'd squeezed into the kitchen. He smiled and chewed on his food, mulling over the state of things, the state of them together.

  The man was a stayer, for sure, and the gr
eat thing was Andrew would totally have Brian’s back tomorrow and knowing that made the day a lot safer than it could be. Staying safe on a job was real important. The difference between jail or freedom. Or worse.

  But yet again, even though this was not the time for these thoughts, Brian couldn’t help imagine what the next month would look like if he didn’t have Andrew by his side but only that money there instead.

  Brian could party until he dropped in some Castro dive bar. Or not. The choice would be his. The truth was Andrew was less inquisitive than Brian who wanted to see the world - or at least the west coast - before he died. The idea of checking out Europe or Asia, if he had the money, also appealed. He had no idea which places to travel to but he was prepared to get a passport and find out. Not Andrew. Going to a new diner for breakfast was as adventurous as he got.

  Brian smiled again at Andrew as his thoughts turned to the best of their times. When they’d first hooked up, Andrew was much needed stability in his life. The sex had been satisfying and the companionship comforting. Brian had felt at ease with himself and with Andrew and they were a respite from the storms swirling all around them.

  They chatted some more over the remnants of the casserole and then Andrew washed their dishes and Brian dried. A perfect domestic scene; Brian died a little on the inside.

  Afterwards, they sat back on the sofa for a spell but Brian found himself getting bored and edgy. Bored with that domestic bliss and edgy about tomorrow. If one of those events had occurred on their own, his natural reaction was to hit a bar and get too drunk to care. The fact these two things were happening simultaneously meant he had to go to bed instead. A tequila hangover on the day of a job was just downright unprofessional.

  Brian kissed Andrew goodnight and hit the hay; Andrew followed a few minutes later. Brian kept his eyes closed and his breathing slow to make Andrew think he was already asleep. Andrew’s snoring kept Brian awake for fifteen minutes or so, but his world lapsed into blackness too. Game on.

  39

  ONCE THE BANK’S shutters were nearly down and everyone was leaving after the extra work for the Pooled Deposit - bank reconciliations are incredibly long-winded and dull to perform - Carter thought about seeing Mary Lou again and butterflies flew around his stomach. He turned right out of the bank and said goodbye to Theresa and Bob, who went in the opposite direction to him. For one brief moment, Carter considered the possibility they were having an affair, but remembered they were both in relationships. Or so they said.

  He strolled down the street with his hands in his pockets and halted at the bus stop. There were a few people already waiting and he leant his back against the wall, imagining soon being in Mary Lou’s arms and then nuzzling between her thighs.

  After two minutes Carter began to get a sense he was not alone, which was not that strange given he was standing on a sidewalk in midtown Lansdowne. His eyes had firmly and squarely zoned out staring at the paving stone under his feet so he raised his gaze to see why the sensation of being alone had altered.

  Luigi stood right next to him on his left and Paul was stood by his right-hand side. Frank Senior’s two goons. Carter swallowed hard and a queasy feeling entered his stomach and ran straight down to his bowels.

  They said nothing and stood there. Luigi whistled and Paul just stood perfectly still, not looking at Carter, not even acknowledging he even existed. Two long minutes later and Carter’s bus appeared. The people in front of him in the line got on board and Carter moved one step forwards to do the same, but Paul held out his hand to block Carter’s body. Carter looked at him, ashen faced. Paul stared back at him and shook his head slowly as if to say: “No.”

  The bus pulled away, leaving a plume of diesel smoke and an empty space. Once the fumes had cleared, Luigi turned to Carter: “We have a message for you from our boss.”

  Carter just stood there, palms sweating and his stomach continuing to knot up.

  “Do you remember the task he asked you to perform?” asked Paul, making Carter turn his head to face Paul’s direction.

  Carter nodded, not trusting his throat to deliver any sound at this point in his life.

  “Good. Tomorrow is the day when you shall perform that task. Do you understand?”

  Again, Carter nodded.

  “Speak to me and let me know you understand.”

  Beat. Swallow. “Yes... yes, I understand.”

  “Good. Just remember to carry out the task as soon as you get in, nice and early. And before the doors open at nine. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “And don’t leave until the end of the day, no matter what happens. Got it?”

  “I’ve got it.”

  “Not until the end of the day. Understand?”

  “I understand.”

  “Good. Now go and catch your bus and we’ll see each other again tomorrow night. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Before Carter could finish that simple word, Luigi and Paul walked away and around the corner. Although he thought of following them to make sure they were gone, Carter realized that would mean he would be getting nearer to them again and was the last thing in the world he wanted to do right now.

  HIS HANDS SHOOK and his palms were now dry as hell. Carter considered going to Mary Lou’s apartment but thought better of it. Frank Senior had made it very clear to him that, once he got word from his boys, Carter should do nothing but either be at home or be in the bank and there was no way he could see her tonight.

  Instead, he went to a pay phone and called the apartment. Mary Lou answered almost immediately.

  “That was quick, baby,” he commented as she took the call.

  “I was right by the phone, is all.”

  “Okay. Look. I hate to say this but I can’t come round this evening...”

  “Oh.” Mary Lou let out a disgruntled child’s two-syllable groan.

  “I know, but something’s come up after we finished off the Pooled Deposit reconciliation. Listen, can you meet me tomorrow morning when the bank opens for business at nine?”

  “Sure thing, darling.”

  “But I need you to meet me at the back of the bank where the parking lot is round the side, you know?”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “And I need you to pick me up in your car.”

  “In my car?”

  “Yes, you told me you’ve got one, right?”

  “Why yes, I treated myself to a convertible earlier this year.”

  “Well then, pick me up in that, will you?”

  “Sure thing, but why? Where will we be going?”

  “No more questions. It’s a surprise for tomorrow. I’ll tell you everything then. But promise you’ll be there just before nine.”

  “I promise.”

  “Love you,” and this time Carter made sure Mary Lou heard those words before he put the phone down on her. Saying those words was a risk and making her the getaway driver was a risk too. But he figured that when she saw the cases, she’d get the picture.

  Anyway, he didn’t really have time to ponder the possibilities too closely, because he saw the next bus trundling along the road. He reached the stop in time to get on.

  Inevitably, Carter hopped off the bus and scurried back home to find Rita in the kitchen and an empty whiskey glass with his name on it in the living room. A double shot of Scotch steadied his nerves and he just let himself sink into his easy chair until he began to feel like a normal human being again.

  The impending tomorrow didn’t go away, but his head stopped buzzing with fear and he was able to focus on the matter at hand, even if it was only for brief spurts before his anxiety took hold and he turned his mind to other things.

  RITA CALLED HIM in for dinner and Carter was pleased that at least it wasn’t another casserole. This time there was spaghetti with meatballs, which was a welcome, but chewy, change. He knew the reason there were so many casseroles was they involved nearly zero effort on Rita’s part - just chop up whatever was in the fridge,
chuck it into a pot and leave it on the heat for a while.

  This got Carter thinking about Rita’s lover and what they did together: merely displacement activity for his own troubles tomorrow. He and Rita sat opposite each other, as ever, slurping spaghetti and cutting up meatballs until their bowls were empty.

  “That was nice, thank you,” he said once he’d mopped up the last of the sauce with a piece of bread.

  “You’re welcome. I thought we both deserved a bit of a change,” replied Rita without the usual hostile timbre in her voice. In fact, she undid a button or two of her blouse so Carter could see the shape of her breasts. Rita never did anything like that - at least not for many years.

  “Well thank you, I really appreciated that,” said Carter, not sure if he was referring to the food or the sight of Rita’s flesh, which was merging in his mind with Mary Lou’s body.

  Rita stood up and pulled out her blouse from her pants and walked over to Carter’s side of the table. She took his hand and said: “Let’s fuck,” and pulled at him to get him to stand up, which Carter was happy to do, and they both padded to their bedroom, disrobed and climbed into bed.

  Throughout the time he was inside Rita, all he could envisage was Mary Lou and that kept him hard, because if he hadn’t known before, tonight was the night Carter became certain he didn’t feel very much for Rita any more. Watching her breasts jiggle up and down as he lay on top of her thrusting in and out, he saw Rita not as his wife, but as just a woman to fuck. He felt cold inside while they were naked together although clearly he wasn’t honest enough to behave as though he did.

  Later, after they’d gone back downstairs to do the washing up, Carter and Rita snuggled on the sofa watching TV. Carter sipped another Scotch but he made sure it was his last one. He knew Tuesday was going to be one hell of a day and the woman sat next to him was going to be no part of it - nor any part of his future.