Alliance, page 16
part #1 of Red Star Series
Having dressed and fuelled for the day, Alessia needed to decide on her transport. She considered taking her Audi, for the privacy and speed, but thought better of it and called for Roberto and the Lincoln. Nikolai’s comments were weighing on her mind. Roberto was not really a guard, he had only been employed as a chauffeur and sometimes handyman, but another body was better than no body at all.
During the journey into south Brooklyn, Alessia continued to think about what both Nikolai and Irina had said, as she had throughout the night until she had finally fallen asleep. She now had a list of things that she wanted to speak to Uncle Enzo about. She didn’t think he could provide all her resolutions, and she wasn’t sure how to frame all of the changes that she wanted to make when she had the inevitable conversation with Benito, but she had to start somewhere. That she was so stymied by her husband was a burning irritation.
Only in the privacy of her own mind was Alessia willing to admit that it had not been her musings on the various pieces of advice she had been given that had kept her awake. It had been thoughts of Nikolai Volkov, of the man himself. There was a raw power about him that drew her like a magnet. She had dreamt of the cross that he wore, an intricate piece wrought in some silver metal, which lay just under the notch at the base of his throat. The swell of the muscles of his chest had been barely visible beneath the open neck of his shirt, but his strength had been obvious. The eyes that seemed to bore right into her core had haunted her dreams. She remembered that there had been a peek of ink at his wrists, below his cuffs, as if there was an enigma to be discovered beneath his suit. She couldn’t get over the heat of the man. People had passed him by in the crowded spaces on the occasions during which they had been close. No one else had reacted to it, but Alessia felt like his scalding aura wrapped around her every time they met. She was anticipating the possibility of seeing him again but was half terrified by the strength of her attraction to him. She hadn’t gotten her feet under her in any way. She was about to make seismic changes to her life. She couldn’t afford needless complications, and nothing about Nikolai Volkov would be simple.
By the time they reached the Bath Beach compound, Alessia needed a glass of cool water for her heated skin and parched mouth.
Uncle Enzo lived in the compound that her grandfather had built, in the house next to her papa’s now empty home. The black windows of her papa’s house were empty of movement. It was as if the house, too, was fading now that it was abandoned.
Alessia asked Roberto to wait out front for her but walked around the house to enter through the kitchen. Like her grandfather, Enzo almost never answered his front door. In the kitchen, Alessia found Maria, Enzo’s niece, bustling around putting pots and glasses back in cupboards. They had once known each other well. They were the same age and had played together and had attended the same schools as children. They kept in touch, but Maria was a mother of five children so their chances to connect were few and often peppered with diaper changes and demands for milk and juice.
“Hi, Mari.” Alessia smiled broadly as she entered the room, happy to see her old friend.
“Alessia!” Maria had looked up at the sound of the door opening, so she was not shocked to hear a voice. Instead, she all but threw herself across the room and folded Alessia into a bone-crushing hug. “How’re you doing? Scratch that, stupid question.” She stepped back and held Alessia at arm’s length with her hands on her shoulders. “You look awesome, but I know that look on your face. You’re pulling yourself together for everyone else. That’s not healthy, you know,” she tutted.
“I know, but I’m fine, truly. Well… mostly… I’m doing as well as I suppose I can be.”
Maria nodded sympathetically and went back to her tidying. Alessia kept her sigh of relief shallow. She loved her friend, they had been as close as sisters, but she wasn’t here to open her heart. She was here to begin saving herself.
“Is Uncle Enzo home?” Alessia asked.
Maria spoke as she continued with her chores. “He is. He’s in his den. I’m glad you’re here. Maybe you can talk some sense into the stubborn bastard. He might listen to you.”
A tingle of misgiving trickled over Alessia’s skin. “What’s up with him?”
Maria stopped flitting around and planted her fists on her hips. “He’s been like this since he got home after the funeral. I came by the next day to check that he was okay and found him passed out in the hallway. He’d barely woken up before he was at the scotch again. He’s been drunk pretty much every hour since when he’s not snoring. He keeps muttering about blame and getting old and some such nonsense.”
Alessia’s heart sank. In careless, unthinking arrogance, she had expected her Uncle Enzo to be there for her, to be available to her. She had not expected to find him consumed by his own grief, even though he was mourning the death of his closest friend.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Good.” Maria checked the dishwasher and switched it on. “I know it’s not an easy time for you or him, but I’ve got a family to look after, I can’t just move in and keep picking up all his pieces.”
Alessia nodded in sympathy and made her way through the house. She found Uncle Enzo in his den, sitting on one of the charcoal suede sofas, with a glass of amber liquid already in his hands. It was still reasonably early in the morning; Alessia hoped he hadn’t had chance to drink too much yet. The drapes were shut and the room was dim and stuffy.
Enzo was seated with his back to the door and made no acknowledgement that anyone had entered until Alessia crossed the room and threw the drapes wide, then he hissed like a vampire. The sunlight flooded in, exposing the shadows under Enzo’s bloodshot eyes, the stubble on his chin, and the unruly mop of his grey hair. He was still wearing striped pajamas, along with his battered leather house slippers. Fortunately, he was also wearing a terry cloth robe on that was tied haphazardly around his waist. He’d been slumped, staring into nothing, until Alessia had disturbed him. She’d never seen him come undone like this before. Maria had warned her, but she hadn’t expected such palpable desolation.
“Uncle Enzo! What’s happened to you?” Alessia rushed across the room and dropped to her knees by his feet. “What’s happened?”
“It’s all my fault,” Enzo mumbled. “We got complacent. Life was easy. I should’ve kept my eyes an’ my ears open, but it’s too late now. Not enough guards. Not enough security. We ain’t needed it in so long, I forgot we needed it at all, an’ now Santo’s dead an’ it’s all my fault.”
“It’s not your fault.” Alessia slapped his leg. “It’s the fault of whoever shot him. Of course, he could’ve had more guards, more security, more checks, but whoever would’ve thought someone had the audacity to shoot him at his own event surrounded by the kind of people who were there?”
“Someone who wanted to make a point.” A tear trickled out of Enzo’s eye. “Damn! How they made it,” he gritted out.
“Uncle, a few days ago you were telling Benito to step off when he was coming after this family. Now you’re going to hand it over to him soaked in a bottle of scotch. What happened to that man? Why are you letting this get on top of you? Why are you giving up?”
“Because it’s my fault.”
Alessia sighed and put her forehead to Enzo’s knee. She felt his fingers thread into her hair, he had petted her in much the same way when she had been a child. “I’m so sorry, Lessie. I let you down.”
Alessia looked up. “What’s done is done. We can’t change that, we can’t turn back time, but if you were serious about what you said to Benito at the wake, perhaps, together, we can change the future.”
Enzo’s brow creased. “What do you mean?”
Before she could answer the door burst open and Frank Moretti stormed in.
“Come on, old man. Get your ass in the shower!”
Enzo scowled and looked between his two visitors. His look of confusion deepened into a scowl. “What is this, some kind of Dr Phil intervention shit?”
“Yeah.” Frank nodded. “It is. Now get showered and get dressed. You stink and your cock’s almost hangin’ out.”
Alessia hadn’t paid any attention to the fly of Enzo’s pajamas, because there was no reason that she would, and he had his robe on as well. Without looking for the truth of Frank’s words she scrambled to her feet and stumbled backward.
“Get up or I’m gonna throw you in the pool for your bath,” Frank threatened.
It was March and the outdoor pool was not heated. Enzo pulled himself to his feet and groaned. “Okay. Okay. I’m goin’ already. There better be coffee when I get back.”
“I already got Maria on it,” Frank promised.
~o0o~
Her uncle looked much better when he came back down to the den. Alessia had opened the windows to let some of the fusty, stale air out and she and Frank had already enjoyed a cup of coffee each, so now the air was redolent of Colombian roast rather than the stench of unwashed burgeoning alcoholic.
Enzo had shaved and styled his hair, but he was dressed casually for a day around the house. Frank was wearing a suit; Alessia didn’t think she’d ever seen him dress in anything else. Enzo looked them both over when he came into the room and spoke as he went for the carafe of coffee and the mug that Maria had left on the low table between the sofas.
“You two’re dressed like bank managers. What’s goin’ on?”
“I always dress like this you miserable coglione,” Frank answered with a smile.
Alessia managed a small grin. She was nervous. She’d only made small talk with Frank while Enzo got himself cleaned up. She didn’t mind speaking to Frank because he had been her grandfather’s capo. If Santo had trusted him then so did she, but she didn’t want to have to discuss everything twice. Frank had given her all of his intense, concentrated attention while they chatted. He knew something was up, but he hadn’t yet figured out what.
“I’m here to ask you some advice,” Alessia began.
“This about the changin’ the future shit you was talking about before?” Enzo asked.
“It is.” Alessia nodded.
He settled into the opposite end of the sofa that Frank had claimed so that he was facing Alessia. He took a sip from his steaming mug of clarity and strength. “So, go on, then. What’s on your mind?”
“I want to look into my grandfather’s death. The police aren’t interested. We never really expected them to be of any help to us, but I’m not ready to accept it as a closed case. I had lunch with Irina Volkov yesterday and she had some interesting information. Apparently, the shooter had Forza tattooed on his ankle. Isn’t that the mark of the Bushwick Crew over on Broadway?
“You know, we wasn’t gonna let the case just drop,” Enzo assured her. “And yes, that’s the Bushwick Crew’s mark. They’re right on the border between here and Queens.”
“How does Irina Volkov know this?” Frank asked.
“Nikolai’s guard saw it on the night and told Nikolai.”
Frank nodded. “That’d be the man mountain that helped me make sure the corpse was dead. I didn’t realize he’d spotted anythin’. He coulda said.”
“I’m not surprised he didn’t,” Enzo chipped in. “The Volkovs have been our allies for a long time, but those Russians didn’t get where they are by not keepin’ their cards close to their chests.” He turned to Alessia. “If she told you this, she’s tryin’ to help you.”
“We’re friends,” Alessia said. “She was papa’s friend. She wants to help.”
“If the Volkovs wanna stay allied with us, that’s a good thing,” Frank said.
“Enzo.” Alessia leaned forward. “When Benito came to you about folding this family into his, you told him to fuck off. I have to ask, what is the future of this family without papa?”
“What the fuck?” Frank grunted. “You didn’t think to tell me this Enzo?”
Enzo shrugged. “I’ve been deep into feelin’ sorry for myself. Just another example of me droppin’ the ball.”
“Well, pick the fuckin’ thing back up again, consigliere! The lady wants an answer.”
Enzo leant forward and put his empty cup on the table. Frank, still visibly bristling, sat back.
“It’s like this,” Enzo said. “Santo had no one to step into his shoes. Once his boy was gone, he didn’t pick anyone else to groom for the spot. Me, Frank, and Petie, we all know we ain’t dons. We’re soldiers, we’re good at giving advice and takin’ the orders, but we ain’t good at givin’ the orders. I was good at gettin’ Santo to see all sides of the story, but he chose the paths we took.”
“So what?” Alessia spread her hands wide. “You’re going to hold interviews for the post or something? Who chooses the paths while we chase down the Bushwick traitors?” she demanded. “Who chooses the path while we lock down and make sure Benito doesn’t come for the family? Who chooses the path when we kill the motherfuckers that murdered our Don?”
Alessia was panting by the time she had finished speaking. She was so full of rage and frustration that her blood was singing with it. Frank and Enzo were looking at her with smiles on their faces. If the two men were about to tell her to go get a manicure she’d grind their fucking grins into the rug with her heel.
“What’re you two starin’ at?” Alessia’s Brooklyn accent didn’t usually slip out in such broad strokes, but she was too mad to rein it in.
“We won’t be holdin’ interviews for the post,” Frank said cryptically, without losing his smirk.
Enzo looked like a cat that had just eaten a canary. “So when do you wanna tell Benito you’re movin’ out?”
Alessia’s brain stuttered. “Oh…”
“It’s gotta be you,” Frank confirmed what she’d thought they meant, but she had been sure she’d been mistaken. “You’re the closest thing to a kid Santo had left. It sounds like he was groomin’ you all along and none of us noticed.”
“I didn’t notice, either,” Alessia said. She was still a little stunned. “Irina and Nikolai pointed out yesterday that I don’t even have a guard or a gun. I’m here with Roberto today, but I still didn’t bring my gun.”
“Good thing too,” Frank said. “Your piece is probably nice and legal and registered, right?”
Alessia nodded
“I’ll get you a couple of pieces that ain’t,” Frank promised. “Somethin’ small enough for a purse an’ something big enough to keep you safe. You carry them, not your legal piece, and we’ll get out to the range so you can practice some.”
“You can get her a driver, too?” Enzo asked.
“Will do.” Frank nodded.
“Good. You should start takin’ Santo’s car, too,” Enzo mused. “It’s more secure than that Lincoln. Turns better, too.”
“What about Uncle Petie?” Alessia asked. “Shouldn’t we give him a say in all this?”
“No need,” Frank chuckled. “I owe him a C note. He said he weren’t concerned about the future of the family.” Frank blushed and looked sheepishly at his feet. “Gotta say, I’m a little embarrassed now.”
“Don’t be,” Alessia said, although she was surprised by Uncle Petie’s foresight. “How could you have known? I didn’t even think I would do this. I still don’t think I can.”
“You can,” Enzo and Frank both chimed at the same time.
“I’ll go round up some of the Bushwick Crew, see what I can get out of them,” Frank said. Alessia knew he meant to torture the young men, and the thought didn’t bother her as much as it might have a month ago.
“They’re from Tosetti turf. Who could’ve sent them?” Alessia mused aloud.
Enzo shrugged. “Coulda been anyone. They’re blood, but they ain’t made. I don’t see ‘em workin’ for the Chinese, though, if that’s what you’re askin’.”
“Are the Chinese our enemies?” Alessia asked.
“They ain’t exactly our friends,” Enzo said. “Them and the Japanese will go where the profit is. Belmonte, well, you know he’s friendly with Benito, and I ain’t sure Benito is goin’ to be friendly with us no more when you leave him. The Ukrainians and the Puerto Ricans go where the good wind blows, but we got the Volkovs and they got the Salvadorans. The rest is just street punks.”
“We need more allies,” Alessia said thoughtfully.
“Yep, we need to bring the Council back in. We need to show them a Tosetti is still at the head of that table,” Frank said.
“Okay. That scares the shit out of me, but okay.” Alessia clenched her fists together to hide the fact that her hands were suddenly trembling. “Uncle Enzo, I guess the next step is to go back and pack my bags, but what next? Where do I go after that?”
Enzo leaned forward and put his hand over her twisting fingers. “You come here, Lessie. You come home. We never shoulda let you go in the first place.”
“You feel up to stayin’ in Santo’s house?” Frank asked.
