The Golden Goose of Los Angeles Extended Edition

by Travis Adams Irish

good… Rory, I’m going to revisit this pain on you over and over again, until I feel whole for the loss of my brother.” He gazes into the younger man’s eyes to show his resolve. “Also, when we have all of the money from selling these kids of yours… we’re going to put a bullet in your head. Or to be more accurate, I’M going to put a bullet in your head.”

 

  “I WAS SLEEPING WHEN YOUR BROTHER ATTACKED ME!” Rory shouts, unable to contain his rage due to the events from the past twenty-four hours. “I had never seen him before… He was just… pissed off at me, like I was a threat to him… I didn’t even know his name, until after he was dead. We never met! He just came into my room and started hitting me over the head with his pistol… I thought that he worked for Pezzloni!” The young man finishes passionately, turning to watch Anthony’s face transform from silent reverence to enraged betrayal.

 

  “What about the girl over there?” Pezzloni suggests to Chandler, gesturing toward Tina with a slight nod of his head. “You got the down payment with his bitch Kelly, but he’s been trying to protect Tina all night… He stopped me from feeding her to the dogs before you got here. Why don’t we drown her in the pool..? You know, as a nice tribute to your brother’s memory.” The rough gangster says in jest, staring at Chandler as if he owns the man.

 

  “You’ve always had a mouth on you, Pezzloni.” Chandler responds with a frigid gaze, tormented by the inconsistent facts surrounding his brother’s demise. “So one of you tells me that my brother attacked The Goose out of nowhere, and the other says that they had words earlier in the day, and got into a fight. Which tells me that one of you… is a fucking liar… or both of you?” The New York syndicate boss rubs his upper teeth across his bottom lip, deep in thought. “I want to talk to my brother!” He says with unyielding conviction, glaring at Pezzloni in a display of calculated distrust.

 

  “We have your brother almost ready, but I need help getting him out of the pit.” Dimitri responds immediately, stepping over to rejoin the group after his journey to the compound at the rear of the home. “If you and one other guy can come with me, then we’ll be able to lift him up-“

 

  “What the fuck do you mean my brother’s in the pit!?” Chandler demands incredulously. “What pit!? How the fuck did he get in there!?” The man asks with eyes full of rage, amplified by loss and brotherly love. “Tell you what, why don’t I execute all three of you lying fucks, and then Teddy and I can sift through the ashes to find out the truth!?” The frustrated gangster turns away from Dimitri, trying to make sense of everything he has been told. “How did my brother end up in a pit?” He asks with a hateful sneer as he draws a nickel-plated, semi-automatic .45 caliber pistol from a leather holster under his jacket. “Dimitri, tell me how my brother wound up in a pit… IN YOUR FUCKING FACILITY, and ON YOUR WATCH! …If I don’t like your answer, you’ll be in the pit next to him.” The man growls with earnest conviction, appearing wild and increasingly unpredictable.

 

  There is a short silence as Dimitri considers this demand, cautiously pondering how to disclose the details to the fountain of confused anger standing before him. As the seconds pass, Chandler’s face becomes more intense, and the resulting discomfort is felt by the entire group. Rory looks over at Dimitri in awe, wondering why he won’t at least say something. When he turns his gaze back to Chandler, Rory notices that the man’s right index finger is nervously clutching and releasing the trigger of his pistol, trying to decide the fate of his Italian colleague. The group of men soon find themselves looking around at one another, wondering why no one is speaking. The tension of this moment escalates into a surreal feeling for everyone involved. Rory wonders for a moment if he’s dreaming as the time passes, and the intensity in Chandler’s face continues to evolve, until his entire head is shaking with contempt. The syndicate boss’ face is sweating and reddening with rage, shaking every few seconds as if a powerful quake is about to escape from his body, and tear open the earth beneath the group of men.

 

  The tension of this silence is soon broken by ghastly choking sounds, and Rory glances at the screen on the iPad®, hoping that it’s not coming from another video of Kelly. A thick hand grabs Rory on his bare left shoulder, and when he looks in that direction, he notices that Anthony Pezzloni is gesturing desperately toward his throat. There is a stream of blue and white foam exiting the left corner of the middle-aged gangster’s mouth.

 

  “WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON WITH HIM!?” Chandler explodes in a fury, far too intelligent to believe what he is seeing and hearing from the men around him. “This is bullshit! He’s not poisoned…” The syndicate leader states with authority, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

 

  Anthony Pezzloni drops to his knees on the concrete, slamming them down hard on the surface as he doubles over, clutching his abdomen in pain. The blue and white foam drips from his mouth onto the concrete, and in the morning sun, Rory can clearly see blood mixed in with the strange fluid.

 

  Chandler gazes at the mixture of blood and foam exiting the mouth of his fellow syndicate leader. He turns to Teddy with his hands outstretched at either side of his body. In reply the older gangster simply shrugs, and nods back to Chandler, unwilling to take responsibility.

 

  “Fuck!” Chandler says in a bitter tone as he watches Pezzloni gasping for breath near the pavement. “Marco. Trevor. Take Pezzloni into the house, and keep an eye on him. Try to get him to puke up the poison.” He orders with some hesitation, cautious about being played by a veteran criminal. “Go! Move your ass! Get him inside!” The confused gangster demands quickly with a snap of his fingers. “Just keep an eye on him!”

 

  Chandler turns his attention back to Dimitri, glaring at him like a polar bear that is ready to dine on a seal. As he waits for an answer, Pezzloni’s body is dragged through the double doors into the basement showers of the home. The middle-aged gangster is growing increasingly short of breath, and his face is turning pale.

 

  “We put him in a… big box… a cardboard box.” Dimitri replies immediately, seeming lost for words at the sight of his employer being dragged inside the house by Chandler’s men. “Somehow the dogs ripped it open, and dragged him into the pit-“

 

  “Did you feed MY FUCKING BROTHER TO YOUR DOGS!?” Chandler inquires with renewed rage, holding his pistol higher in the air. “I’ll bet that’s the truth… you killed him, and just left him there to be ripped apart.” The syndicate leader announces as the pistol begins to shake in his trembling right hand.

 

  Rory is shocked to see tears streaming from the man’s eyes as his gaze burns into Dimitri like molten steel injected into an ingot.

 

  “Just give me fifteen minutes, and I’ll have him ready for you.” Dimitri pleads with sincerity, holding his palms up in a nonthreatening manner. “Nobody would feed him to the dogs… That would be suicide for everyone here. Just let me take two guys, and we’ll get him cleaned up for you… You don’t want to see him the way he is now…” Dimitri suggests with a humble gaze, trembling a bit himself.

 

  “Ten minutes…” Chandler says in a low voice, feeling anguish throughout his body. “If I find that you have disrespected my baby brother in ANY WAY… I’ll make sure it takes two years for you to die!” The enraged gangster looks at Rory, and then glances toward the house where Pezzloni was taken for medical assistance. “Bart. Gary. Todd. Take your submachine guns to the compound and help Dimitri clean up my brother’s body. If you seen ANYTHING… that you don’t like, go ahead and cut him in half… If they’ve done anything to my brother’s body, call me right away.” He instructs with experience and poise, wiping the tears from his face before nodding to his men with a confirmation of his o
rders. “I’ll be there in ten minutes… after I sort some shit out here.”

 

  The men return their employer’s nod, and move with tenacious authority as they escort Dimitri toward the compound at the rear of the property. Each of them is carrying a submachine gun, several clips of ammunition, and wearing a bulletproof vest.

 

  “Rory,” Chandler begins with a wicked smile, “join me by the pool.” He gestures meagerly with his pistol, displaying a forceful gaze that indicates the request is not optional.

 

  Inside the Pezzloni mansion, the two guards have managed to carry the gangster to a bathroom stall that is adjacent to the showers in the basement. Anthony’s breathing has become weaker, and the foam continues to bubble from his mouth in a steady stream of white and blue. Although there was blood initially, it seems to have faded over the past two minutes.

 

  Trevor looks at Marco as they position their colleague over the toilet bowl, cautious of any quick movements from the devious career criminal. Pezzloni inserts the index and middle fingers of his right hand into his throat, forcing himself to gag, and he abruptly spews more of the contents from his stomach into the toilet bowl.

 

  Trevor turns away in disgust, but Marco looks on with dutiful cynicism. Marco is an edgy Samoan with a long ponytail and a barrel chest. He has a