Joey
“Cutty and water for you, Mr. LaTorre.” Gina, the cocktail waitress at Swank, slides my drink in front of me. It’s poker night. We’re in the back room at Swank, cards in hand, cigars burning.
Once a week, the Made Men get together for poker. Money definitely changes hands, but these games aren’t for profit. Those kinds of games are run by capos in the organization every other night of the week but never at my club.
No, poker night at Swank is worse-recreational business.
A chance for Al to look every capo in the eye and take his measure. To conduct business and socialize at the same time. To keep his finger on the pulse of the business.
Personally, I hate poker nights. The cigar smoke and simpering to Al. The underlying tension of organization politics beneath every conversation.
I love these guysthey are absolutely my familybut it gets old. I’m sure the fact that it’s a requirement is what chafes. If it were a friendly get-together, I’d probably never miss one.
Sammy’s been drinking too much, as usual. His upper lip curls with distaste as he gazes at Al, and it gives me prickles of unease. Al is unforgiving when it comes to disrespect, and he’s already watching Sammy, thanks to Carlo’s observations last week. This is a bomb ready to blow if Sammy doesn’t reel it in.
Carlo’s low-key watching Sammy.
“So, when are you getting married, Bobby?” Al asks our cousin. “Carmen said the twins are introducing Lexi as their soon-to-be stepmom. I guess that means they’re fine with it?”
“Yeah. Go figure. I thought there would be drama since she’s not much older than they are, but I guess they like seeing me happy.”
“You do seem happy,” I observe. “Not that I would’ve said you seemed unhappy before. But…”
“Yeah, getting some will do that,” Mario says.
“He was getting some before. This is different,” I point out, remembering Bobby’s problematic partners in the past. Lexi was definitely a step up.
“Amore.” Carlo unwraps a cigar and lights it.
“Speaking of amore.” Al looks my way.
“I don’t kiss and tell. Told you that last time.”
“So you’re still seeing her?” Al asks.
“Who?” Bobby demands.
“Yeah, who?” Mario chimes in.
Sammy scowls at me.
“Sophie Palazzo.” I glance at Pauly, who I already knew was following the conversation closely.
“Little Sophie Palazzo?” Mario asks. “The one you kidnapped from her father’s funeral?”
“I didn’t kidnap her.”
“I remember the women were all upset when you two went missing. You didn’t show up at your dad’s house with her, and her ma was livid.”
“I took her for a drive. She didn’t want to go back to the house.” I don’t know why I’m still explaining my actions thirteen years later. Mario’s right, though. I remember everyone was pissed when I finally brought her back. My mom told me it was inappropriate for me to be alone with her, as if we lived in some other century where females had to be chaperoned with males at all times. Or as if I couldn’t be trusted around a teenage girl.
“You two had a connection.” Al puffs on his cigar.
“That why you sent me to her for a massage?”
He shrugs. “It’s good to check in on those who have slipped out of the fold. I figured you were the best one.”
As I’d suspected.
“I could use a massage,” Carlo says.
“No.” Cristo. I know he said it to rile me up, but I can’t keep the deadly warning from my tone.
“Is she any good? I mean, I always love a”
“You go near her, I’ll cut off your fucking balls.”
Carlo chuckles and flicks ash from his cigar. “Oh, is that how it is?”
He’s lucky I haven’t vaulted this poker table and shoved that cigar down his throat. “Say you understand,” I snarl through a clenched jaw.
“I won’t go near your girl, Joey. I’m just playin’.”
“I gotta go check on the club,” Sammy mutters and pushes away from the table.
“Do you?” Al asks.
“Somebody has to,” he mumbles as he walks out the door.
Al looks at me and raises his brows. “You gonna let him get away with that?”
“I’ll talk to him.”
“You’ll talk to him?” Al demands. “I’d give him a fucking beat-down. You’re his capo. He answers to you.”
Fuck.
Classic Al.
“I’ll take care of it.”
Al looks like he wants to say something more, but he just shakes his head and asks, “Who’s playing?”