Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
No matter my opinion about this wild night in Sands Point, I had to brush it aside.
Because Rocco just shattered everything I believed about him with a single, short statement the next morning.
“I’m going to vouch for you to Don Gambini during our meeting this afternoon. If he accepts—which he probably will—you and Matteo will be made members. Leonardo’s not Italian, so he can’t become a member.”
It was amazing how much my view of this guy had shifted. He’d gone from an offensive prick to something close to a friend. I could have remembered at least two cases where I wanted to punch him in the head but held back. I had to swallow my anger, because I knew he had things I didn’t have. As I realized that morning, perhaps the most important of all was the organization’s ear. If I’d ever even attempted to meet with a powerful Don like Gambini, his men would have beaten the shit out of me. My Italian descent wouldn’t have played a role. To them, I was just an outsider, someone who could have pulled something nasty on their boss.
Back in my apartment, I chose to wear a beige suit and a red tie. I wanted to look my best that day. I had never met a Don, and I knew first impressions mattered. There was no way in hell I’d attend that meeting in jeans and a t-shirt. That was something Leonardo would probably do. He loved his casual wear too much for him to consider putting on a suit, even for a meeting as important as this. It was a good thing he wouldn’t be attending it.
Somewhere on the outskirts of Manhattan, I pulled up outside a large estate. Its Victorian style and the lack of fancy stuff like a power gate, had me wondering. I expected to find more luxury at a Don’s house. Beyond a short wall just off the sidewalk, I could make out a small pool in the front yard. Rocco emerged from a door to the right, wearing a navy-blue suit. Jogging across the yard, he welcomed me in typical, Rocco fashion: His face was just as stiff as his posture.
“Hey. Matteo’s already here,” he said. “Don Gambini and his two capos have been waiting for you. I’m going to repeat the same things I told your cousin when he got here. First of all, what do you know about being made? Have you heard of the process?”
“Not really,” I shook my head in denial. “I know I have to take an oath, but that’s it.”
“A blood oath,” he corrected me. “That’s why I got out here. You’ll see a knife at some point. Don’t freak out; nobody’s going to try to kill you. If they wanted you dead, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“I hear you,” I said with a nod. “Any tips?”
“Just relax,” he advised and patted me on the shoulder. “Show those men the necessary respect and you’ll be fine.”
He turned around and I followed him, my gaze studying the front yard.
“Whose is this place?” I asked, Rocco strutting to the front door.
“It used to be Nick Roselli’s, until he died,” he answered. “It belongs to Maggie now.”
Turning the key in the lock, he stepped aside for me. In the living room to the right, I saw three men. Two of them were sitting on the couch, while an older, graying man was sitting in an armchair. Leonardo was to the left, still standing up as our eyes met across the room.
“Gentlemen, this is Cesare Borelli, a friend of ours,” Rocco said, halting next to me. “Cesare, this is Don Michael Gambini,” he added, gesturing to the man in the armchair. “Pat Torello and Steven Luciani. They’re his capos.”
“It’s a pleasure, Don Gambini,” I spoke in a firm voice, bowing my head as I offered my hand for a handshake. The boss slammed his palm into mine and rose from his seat.
“Nice to meet you, Cesare,” he stated in a gruff voice as I tried to wrap my head around his gesture. He’d stood up for me. A mafia Don had just shown me respect. “Rocco and I were just talking about how you and your crew helped them out in Vegas. You showed a lot of balls back there.”
“Thank you, sir,” I told him, tipping my head down. “We just did what we had to do to stay alive.”
“Which made me sure he was worth it,” Rocco tried a louder voice, settling his gaze on the Don. “Don Gambini, I vouch for Cesare and Matteo Borelli. They pulled their own weight during that thing in Vegas. Their help in the whole Kanin matter was invaluable.”
“True that,” Gambini nodded in agreement. “Kanin underestimated their crew and paid the price. Now, the question is, are you gentlemen willing to take the oath of Omerta?”