by Nick Dorsey
Dominic watched her stalk from the room. He shook his head and was deciding whether or not to turn the discussion into an argument when his phone rang.
It was Ernie. He sounded a little drunk. “Hey, Dom. I’m going to need you tonight. Meet me at the strip mall in twenty minutes, alright?”
Sure, Ernie. Anything you say, Ernie. Let me kiss your ass, Ernie.
Of course, when he told Erika she lost her mind. She rolled her eyes and started yelling about how she would never do this if they were going to one of Dominic’s friends’ parties, because all of that stuff was all so important. But she asks him to do one thing for her, just ask about the Musician’s Village thing, and he bails at the last second. And who was Ernie anyway? He wasn’t a LaRocca, not really. It wasn’t like he was Sal or anything. He was just throwing his weight around. Ernie wasn’t as old as Sal and he wasn’t as connected, either. He didn’t have the juice Sal did. But, Dominic reflected, he had the position. He didn’t have the name but he was a LaRocca way back some kind of way, and Dominic knew he gave Sal advice on legit business. If there was a consigliere, if they still used that sort of term, Ernie would be it. But he wasn’t in the trenches like Dominic or even Nino.
That’s when Erika said, “You got to make hard choices. Either come with me or go play with your friends.” Saying it just like that, like he was going to ride bikes with the neighborhood kids.
Dominic should have been insulted, but he ignored that. He was already thinking ahead. Thinking about making some moves. Because Erika was right, in this life, you had to make hard choices, or somebody would make them for you.
She said, “Together forever, right?” With a little smirk.
“I’m going to drive you to the party and say hello, then I gotta go.” He grabbed his keys and headed for the door. “Come on. We can talk about some things on the way.”
That was it. That ride to Erika’s club. That was when they decided to kill Ernesto Adelfi.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
B ack the old days, with the Marcellos and the Carollas running things and up even until Fat Frank died, there were all sorts of different aspects of the organization. Branches and limbs and roots like some kinda tree you never knew existed. Now it was different. If you stood back and looked at everything from a distance you could see it all pretty clearly, now. See how it led from the street right to Sal. The guys on the street weren’t associated, they weren’t made guys. They pushed dope and coke, they ran some scams at the casinos. They kicked money up the chain, and maybe they knew who they were working for, maybe they didn’t. The muscle got the street money, guys like Louis and Dominic. A few other guys that worked at the Pan or worked the door at the game room or were mechanics at the dealership. In the old days there would have been capos, lieutenants with their own crews. But the organization wasn’t as big as it used to be. Now there were young guys like Nino and old farts Dominic barely even saw anymore. The old farts were middle-management with good straight jobs. The organization was like some sort of side-hustle to them. It was almost insulting.
Ernesto Adelfi, when he was still breathing, was somewhere between an underboss and consigliere. Running the Pan, that was big. Like wearing your stripes everyday. Because everybody knew it was a LaRocca restaurant, and everybody who was anybody knew what that meant.
Of course, Sal was at the top. Capo. He had the name and the blood and so it was just understood.
So that’s how it all went when Ernesto was still alive. But Dominic being at the restaurant, he had a better eye on the business than most. And Sal knew Dominic’s name. And his face. And if Dominic could just clear some room at the top, he could hopscotch right over Nino and the old farts. Some room that maybe Ernesto was taking up. Yeah. Guy like that? He took up a lot of space.
Taking out somebody like Ernesto was tricky. Sure. And dangerous. But Dominic had good ideas. He was smart. And he was willing to make the hard decisions.
Now Dominic stood in the parking lot of the Pan Dell’Orso with Louis and waited for the others. The wind yesterday had blown in a cold front and Dominic liked it. He liked having to wear a jacket. He could show off his taste a little bit. He liked the way the sun was shining but it was still cool, like it was still winter. Nino should have been there by now. He was right behind Dominic at the coffee place. Was this Nino throwing his weight around? Making them wait? Maybe. But Dominic felt sure he would be there before Sal. Nobody wanted to make Sal wait.
Louis lit a cigarette and offered one to Dominic.
“Nah, I quit.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” But Dominic took one anyone and lit it.
Louis grinned. “Thing about guys who quit is, they don’t quit smoking. They just quit buying packs.”
“Don’t break my balls. I’m a little fucked up from last night. Wound up drinking half the night away. Hey, why didn’t you drive the big man today?”
“He called. He’s saying he can drive himself.”
Nino pulled into the parking lot a moment later with Sal’s big Cadillac right behind him. Louis hustled to open Sal’s door for him. Sal swatted him away with his houndstooth cabbie hat and then snugged it back on.
“I can open my own damned door,” Sal said.
“Sorry.”
“We probably got people watching us, and you’re acting like I’m Don Corleone. Christ.”
“Sorry, I said.”
Sal walked directly to Nino. Not even a good-morning or anything for Dominic. Dominic cursed under his breath and tossed his cigarette, then ran to catch up with the old man.
“Hey good morning.”
“Uh-hunh.”
“I was thinking you could give Nino the day off.”
“Yeah?” Sal stopped in the parking lot and looked up at Dominic
“I could drive you today.”
“No.” Sal pushed past him and waved a hand at Nino, who somehow had gotten an adult-sized cup of coffee from Boulangerie. “Nino, take my car so nobody gets the wrong idea. I’m staying here. I’m waiting for something.”
“I got a nice car.” Nino’s voice suddenly got a little higher, defensive. Dominic liked seeing him like that, caught off guard.
Sal snorted. “People know my car. Take the Caddy.” He handed Nino his keys and turned toward the restaurant without waiting for an answer. Sal shook his head at Louis, who was still smoking. “You got a death wish? Put that out. Go inside and make me a coffee, all right?” Sal clapped Dominic on the shoulder. “Hey, you look like you could use a cup, too. Come on.”
Dominic brightened. This wasn’t a terrible turn of events. He flashed a shit-eating grin at Nino as the other man pulled the Caddy out onto Metairie Road. He hoped Nino saw that. Then he followed the old man inside.
Dominic checked in on the kitchen staff prepping for lunch. They were cutting up a metric shit-ton of eggplant for the Friday special, so he left them alone. He took a seat at the bar and watched as Louis brewed a cup of coffee and steamed a carafe of milk.
Being called in. This was a good thing. Now he had time to talk to the big man. Ask some questions. In the main room, Sal sat in a booth and read the paper. He was one of the three people in the city that still got a physical paper, Dominic guessed.
“You know it’s Friday the thirteenth?” Louis lumbered over to the bar and slid the milk toward him.
“It is?”
“Spooky shit.”
“It’s just bullshit. Old country shit. Mythology or something.”
Louis shrugged and went to retrieve the coffee pot and a few cups. “I don’t think so. Judas was the thirteenth apostle, that’s why the number thirteen is cursed.”
“Wait, there were only twelve apostles.”
“There was Jesus and the twelve apostles. Thirteen.” Louis gave him a satisfied smirk. “The last one was Judas.”
This idiot. “I don’t think that’s why thirteen is unlucky.”
“Then why?” Louis poured a cup for himself, then two more.
>
Dominic couldn’t give him a good reason. He was sure he had learned it at some point in time. He took the milk and cups and left the bar.
“Ha! See! You got nothin’.” Louis’s guttural laugh followed him out of the bar.
Shit. Thirteen. Maybe the idiot was right.
He walked into the dining room and saw Sal sitting at a booth on the other side of the wall. He walked around the room and set the cups and the coffee on his table. Sal grunted something like, “Thank you.” Dominic poured the cups halfway full of coffee, then finished them off with milk. He slid into a chair across from Sal and wrapped his hands around the cup to feel the heat of the coffee. He sipped.
Sal drank a quarter of his cup in one go and set it back down without looking away from the Business section of the Times-Picayune.
“Hey, Sal? I was thinking, I been doing a pretty good job here.”
“Hunh?”
“At the restaurant.”
“Yeah.”
“So I was thinking, maybe it’s time for me to come on full-time as manager.”
“Oh.”
Dominic took a sip from his cup. His hand was shaking. He set the cup back down and it clunked on the table. A bit of coffee splashed over the rim and onto the tablecloth. He took a scalloped napkin from his water glass and used it to wipe the coffee.
Sal folded his paper down and sniffed. “ You going to get a new napkin when you’re through?”
“Of course.”
“Okay. Then let me read my paper.”
“Alright. Sure thing.” Dominic set his jaw and stood. He grabbed his coffee and rejoined Louis by the bar. “Can I get a napkin?”
“You hungry?”
“Just get me the napkin, Lou. Christ.”
Later, Dominic was sending Erika messages on his phone, updating her on his progress. He could hear Louis’ voice in the back, trying to learn Spanish from one of the cooks. He heard him say, “Diez y tres de Viernes ! Muy mal.” Telling them it was Friday the thirteenth.
One of the cooks said, “So? It’s not bad in Spanish, though. In Spanish it’s Martes. Tuesday the thirteenth is the bad one.”
“No shit?”
Dominic shook his head and went back to his texting.
I talked to the big guy.
Did he say yes?
It’s not official, but I’m already running the place, pretty much.
So he didn’t say yes?
The door opened and a short, fat guy walked in. He had a pretty nice suit on, but he looked like some sort of old hippy with the grey hair and beard. Dominic said, “We’re closed for another hour or so.”
“Not for me.”
“What was that?” Dominic set his phone down and stood up. Ready to raise his hands and take this fat old man down.
“Hey!” Sal was shouting from the other room. “Let him back here.”
The short guy gestured to the main dining room. Dominic waved him on.
As he left, the short guy said, “A ‘Sorry’ would be nice.”
Dominic hopped back on his phone. “You’re forgiven.”
Dominic couldn’t be sure, but he thought the guy said, “Asshole.” Instead of knocking the guy’s teeth out, Dominic let it ride. He was about to go in the back and give Louis some shit or see if the kitchen staff was running on schedule, but then he heard Sal laugh. Dominic slid into the last barstool by the wall, the one between the bar and the dining room. He pretended to look at his phone but he laid his head against the wall so he could listen.
He heard Sal say, “It’s good, though. Have a hot-head around.”
“If you say so. If you like that sort of thing.” That was the fat guy.
“You know I do.”
“Alright. It’s your business.”
“It is. How’s things downtown?”
“Good. Busy. I’ve been running around, got a client that’s getting his ass sued six ways from Sunday. The other guys want a document review, discovery shit. So I had my people put together about ten thousand pages of contracts, Chinese menus, all sorts of stupid shit. Crated it all up and sent it to them.”
Sal laughed. “You can do that?”
“They asked for contracts, I sent them contracts. It’s part of the discovery process. I just sent them a few more pieces of paper than they wanted. I do it all the time. Gotta keep them busy.”
“You’re a real prick sometimes.”
“They teach you the finer points of prickery in law school.”
Dominic perked up. So the fat guy was a lawyer. Lawyers followed Sal around like flies.
“You had time to look into my thing?”
“I stopped by and checked her out. She got her ass handed to her in court a little bit, but that happens to everyone. She’s okay. I threw her a line. Maybe I could use another associate, maybe just a contract thing for the suit I’m working on. Gave her a card.”
“Really? I thought you were going to give her some advice, not offer her a job.”
“Well, it’s baby steps, you know? Get her into a meeting, dinner, something like that. Then tell her to get her old business sorted, including the Sofia thing.”
Shit. The Sofia thing. Dominic set his phone down and closed his eyes. The Sofia thing wouldn’t end. It brought that investigator into the restaurant, then that guy brought a friend to the game room. How the hell did he even know about the game room, anyway? That was too much attention. But, maybe this lawyer was going to put it all to bed. Dominic didn’t mind that one bit.
Sal was saying, “Long way around.”
“Sometimes that’s the best way.”
“Did she seem interested?”
“Tough to say. She’s smart, but I get the feeling she’s got one of those bleeding heart complexes.”
“Huh.”
“Yeah, so I don’t know.”
“Because she stopped by the car dealership yesterday. Her and her whole crew. A kid, that cop.”
“Wait, what cop?”
“An ex-cop. Connelly. Not a big deal. They’ve just been around in places I don’t think they need to be around.”
“Okay, do you have any more information about that?”
“No, no. It’s fine. As long as all this is wrapped up quick. This whole thing is just drawing too much attention.”
“I understand. I’ve got something in the works.”
“Alright. Good. That’s all I needed to know. Hey, you want to eat?”
A half an hour later Dominic was on the phone, yelling at a waitress who was asking for an afternoon off. She said she was sick.
“We’re all hungover, darlin’. You still have to come to work.” Dominic hung up the phone. In the dining room, he heard movement, a few muttered words, and then the fat guy rolled into the bar. He looked at Dominic. “You alright?”
“I’m alright.”
“No hard feelings. I know you have to watch out for Salvatore.”
“Yeah, okay.” Dominic shrugged. He didn’t get off his barstool, but the guy wasn’t leaving.
“Maybe me and you should have a talk. I’ll buy you some coffee down the way. They got dark roast and blonde roast, you had that blonde roast?”
“No. I like a cortado , though.” What was this guy getting at?
“Maybe they can make you one of those. ‘Course they make you order a tall, or super, or major, or whatever. Can’t just be small, medium, or large anymore. But I guess it’s the only place you can legally pay for a tall blonde, am I right?”
The fat guy laughed and gave a little wave as he left the Pan. Dominic shook his head and waited until the door shut. Then he spun around and went into the dining room.
Sal was there reading the Sports section over a few empty plates. When Dominic sat down, he dropped his paper onto his plates and glared. “You know you got to be asked to sit down?”
Dominic froze. “Should I get up?”
Sal closed his eyes for a moment. Then he waved at Dominic, a ‘go ahead’ gesture.
“
I was thinking about a few things. Like that Public Defender.”
“You mean you were listening to my conversation.”
“Uh.” Dominic decided that was a rhetorical question. “I was just thinking if there’s anything I can do, any way to help, I’m here.”
“You’re here?”
“For anything.”
“Anything, hunh?” Sal waved a hand at the restaurant. “We’re going to open for lunch soon. Where’s your waitstaff? Hunh? Why don’t you let the lawyers take care of the lawyer thing, and how about the restaurant guy takes care of the restaurant thing?”
Dominic woke up alone the next morning.
He found Erika sitting on the couch, smoking a joint in only a Grizzly Bear shirt and her underwear. He waved the smoke away. “It’s early for that.”
“It’s Saturday.” She patted the cushion next to her. “I was thinking about your problem.”
“You don’t need to do that.” He sat and took a hit. She stretched her bare legs over his.
“You were up all night tossing and turning. You told me about that lawyer, the girl. So I got on the Public Defenders website. They got everybody on here. The girl you were talking about, it’s either Kinesha or Jeanette, right?” She turned her laptop toward Dominic.
“They were talking about Jean.” He took another hit and handed the joint back. He experimentally ran a hand over her leg and up her thigh.
“Okay. Stop that a second. Here we go. Jeanette Perez.” She typed rapidly and blew smoke out of her nose.
Dominic grunted and squeezed her legs. He slid a hand further up.
“See? She’s listed. Here’s her address. Olympia Avenue. By the park.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So maybe you should talk to her.”
“The big guy said to leave it alone.”
“But he still wants the problem gone. Maybe you should talk to her.” Erika said the last in a little sing-song voice, teasing him a bit.
“I want to talk to you .” His hands on her thigh.
She grinned. “You want to talk , is that right?”
An hour and a half later Dominic was showered, dressed, and was sitting in front of Jeanette Perez’s house. He made sure there wasn’t a piece in the car, no weapon of any kind. This wasn’t that kind of trip. Besides, it was mid-morning. Lots of people out and about. This was a conversation. Really.
