And he was right to stare because Raymond was enraged. And as the others were laughing, Raymond ran for the target of his rage. “Why you black bitch!” he yelled angrily as he ran for Ashley.

  Monk ran after his father, as other men in the room did, too, but Raymond was able to get his hands around Ashley’s neck before Monk could get to him. But as soon as Monk got to him he grabbed his father and flung him away from Ashley with all the strength he had, and then he flipped him onto the floor as if he was some WWE championship wrestler. Raymond hit down so hard on his back that he screamed.

  But Monk wasn’t done with him yet. He got down with his knee on his father’s chest, had his gun drawn and was pointing it at his father’s face, as soon as his father hit down. Then Monk cocked his weapon.

  “I told you last time there won’t be a conversation the next time,” Monk said angrily to his father. “Didn’t I tell you that?!”

  “Frankie, don’t do it,” the Don said to Frankie, rolling his chair toward him. “Don’t do it, Frankie!”

  “No, Monk,” Dimples was pleading. “Not your old man, Monk!”

  Others were saying similar. No, Monk. Don’t do it, Monk. All of them were yelling at him. And then he heard Ashley’s voice through the chatter. “He’s not worth it, Frankie,” he heard her plead with him. “Don’t let him ruin your day!”

  It was when she brought it back down to earth for Monk did he realize she was right. Why would he let that miserable bastard of a human being ruin his day? Why would he get down in that gutter with him?

  But he didn’t just stand up. He might have took death off of the table, but he wasn’t getting off scot free. He put his hands on Ashley. He had to understand that was verboten.

  They all had to understand that.

  And that was why Monk commence to pistol whip his own old man. He beat the shit out of Raymond Paletti and everybody in the room let him. Because, just as Ashley had said, Monk was the boss now. And he wasn’t doing it like his old man had done it. He beat his father until he was nearly unconscious.

  And then he stopped. And stood up. “Get his ass out of my face,” he ordered. And then Boozer and Noodles hurried to Raymond, and carried him out of the parlor, and out of the Don’s house altogether. The rest of Raymond’s loyalists hurried out too. The fact that the Don didn’t stop Monk from beating Raymond said it all to them.

  But as Monk stood there, he began sensing something else. The way Raymond turned to Ashley, knowing Ashley was a Sinatra and probably had a big mouth on her. Why would he want to provoke her? And the way all of his men didn’t hesitate to grab him and leave with him as soon as the beating stopped. They knew Monk was boss. They knew there would be retribution if they left with Raymond. But they left anyway?

  It was Monk’s time to smell a rat.

  “Let’s eat,” the Don said. “All of this violence has made me hungry. Let’s celebrate Monk’s ascension because, as demonstrated already, he’s got his work cut out for him.”

  “Here here!” Dimples said again, and everybody laughed.

  But Ashley looked at Monk. His mind was so far away from Dimples and the Don and everybody else in that room, that she was surprised nobody else noticed. But she saw it clear as day.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “What I’m hoping for is an alliance between our family and the Sinatra Crime Family,” the Don said as he sat at the head of the table and ate his meal. He was talking to Monk while the others were talking amongst themselves. Monk sat to the right of the Don at the table, in the seat that was always reserved for the boss. Ashley sat beside him, and the rest of the family members that remained at the house, all of which were Monk loyalists, along with their wives who were let out of the basement, sat around the table too. “How likely do you see that happening?” the Don asked Monk.

  “You mean an alliance with Mick Sinatra? Not likely at all right now,” Monk said as he ate too.

  “Why would you say that? You’re marrying Sinatra’s niece.”

  “Since when is Mick the Tick a sentimentalist?”

  The Don laughed. “You’re right about that!”

  “That has nothing to do with it,” Monk said. “Our organization is shitsville in Sinatra’s eyes. And he’s right. He’ll never align himself with us unless we make drastic changes.”

  “Like you as boss?” the Don asked.

  “That may help in his eyes,” Monk said. “But that’s not enough. We’ve got to show him that we’re on a different path. That we still know that strength rules in the underworld. That we still know that we’ve got to assert ourselves and make better decisions than we’ve ever made. Pop ran us in the ground. We’ve got to scratch and claw our way out, establish our power again, and then I’ll see about presenting ourselves as a potential ally of Sinatra’s.”

  “What about Sal Gabrini?” the Don asked. “What if we align with him? That’ll get Sinatra’s attention faster, don’t you think?”

  “No, because it’s the same situation,” Monk said. “Sal Gabrini is a major player too. We’re shitsville to him too. There’s no shortcuts to greatness. We’ve got to work that shit out day in and day out. We’ve got a hole to get out of first.”

  The Don nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “You’re always right. But won’t it be beautiful? If we can get our family under Sinatra’s umbrella, we’d be set for life.”

  Monk agreed. Ashley leaned against him.

  “I told you I was right to get a better wardrobe,” she said to him.

  Monk looked over at her plate. Her steak remained untouched. He began slicing it for her with his knife.

  “You heard me?” Ashley asked him. “Even his servants are stylish.”

  “What?” Then Monk realized what she said. He looked at the men standing around the table refilling their drinks and plates as needed. Monk leaned against her. “Stylish? What’s stylish about some fucking uniform?”

  “Rolex,” Ashley said, motioning toward the wrist of one of the servers. He was putting more food on the plate of one of the men.

  Monk saw it too. But unlike Ashley, he wasn’t seeing the style of it, he was seeing the oddity of it. How the fuck a cheapskate like Bonaducci was going to have servants that could afford Rolex watches? And Monk knew his watches. That shit was real.

  But what set it off for Monk was when he saw that same servant glance at another one, and then nod. That servant he was nodding at suddenly reached inside of the covered tray he was holding and Monk knew what was happening then. And he didn’t wait to see the hardware.

  “A hit! A hit!” he yelled and immediately grabbed Ashley and pushed her beneath the big table. He was pulling out his gun as he pushed her down. And he began firing at the two men he knew were involved.

  But there were six servants in that massive dining hall, and all six of them had pulled out hardware and were shooting back. Monk’s men were getting their guns out, too, and their wives were screaming and trying to get under the table with Ashley. Monk knocked the Don out of his wheelchair, as a way of giving him some cover, but the Don had already took two bullets.

  Monk and his men were firing hard, and taking those servants out, but those servants were taking his men out too. And when Monk saw that one of the servants, the one with the Rolex, was leaning down beneath the table, shooting wildly, he jumped down, got on top of Ashley, and fired at that man before he could fire at Ashley. And he shot him dead.

  But not before monumental tragedy. Some of the wives had been shot repeatedly. Monk knew he had to get Ashley from beneath that table.

  “When I give you the word, run into the kitchen,” Monk said to Ashley. “Run for your life!”

  Ashley was nodding on adrenalin alone. Her heart was hammering. “I will,” she said, nervous and nodding. “I will.”

  Monk got back up, where the gunfire was still erupting, saw that Ashley had a path to get out, and he yelled to her. “Go!” he yelled, and Ashley, terrified that she was going to run right into the path of a bullet, trusted Monk enough to just get up and go. She got from beneath that table and ran as fast as she could into the kitchen.

  Everybody had taken cover in the dining hall, with the few servants that remained behind the buffet, and Monk and his men using the long table as their cover. But then Monk heard gunfire in the kitchen, and his heart dropped. There were more men? Had he just thrust Ashley into the line of fire?!

  As the gun battle raged, as the Don and most of Monk’s men and his men’s wives lay dead or dying, Monk jumped over that table, dodging the barrage of bullets coming his way, rolled onto the floor, and then hurried into that kitchen.

  When he got inside, he saw one gunman. And that gunman was firing at a large cabinet where he apparently assumed Ashley was.

  Monk assumed it, too, but was too late. The man was already firing his weapon and was opening that cabinet door just as another cabinet door, a smaller one, opened, and Ashley, by opening that door, knocked the man off of his feet as Monk fired shots at him.

  But then somebody came up behind Monk and was pointing a gun directly at Monk’s head. “Drop it,” he said, and Monk quickly dropped his weapon.

  But Ashley grabbed the gun of the gunman that had just died in front of her, and motioned to Monk.

  Monk, realizing what Ashley was about to do, although he knew it was risky as hell, dived in the opposite direction, exposing the servant with the gun that had been at Monk’s head, as Ashley shot the man in the chest before he realized he was even a target. The man immediately dropped his gun, and then his body dropped dead too.

  Monk was pleased by her quick action. Some of his men ran into the kitchen, too, to make sure the boss was okay. “We’re okay,” Monk made it clear to them. Then he looked at Ashley. “Good job, babe,” he said. “Good job.”

  “Is he the last one?” Ashley asked hysterically, still holding that smoking gun. “What if he’s not the last one, Frankie?”

  But he was. There was no more gunfire. When Monk looked back in the dining hall, he saw all of the servants had been killed, but he also saw that some of his men and a few of the wives had been killed as well. Danny Ripple, Bobby Margolis, and Dimples Devito were still standing. And the Don was down.

  Monk hurried to him. “Call 911,” he said anxiously, when he saw that the Don still had a pulse. “Call 911! Get help over here!”

  All of the survivors were dazed. All of them were in shock. They’d never been hit that way before ever and were too busy trying to get their wives away from beneath dead bodies to even hear Monk. They put him in charge and this was what happened to them? They were angry at Monk. They didn’t want to hear a word he had to say right then and there.

  But Ashley heard Monk. And she didn’t flinch. It was Ashley who made the call.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Charles and Jenay were eating in the diner of their hotel and Charles had to stop eating and look at his wife. “Good gracious, Jenay,” he said. “You’re eating like some starving child!”

  Jenay grinned, as she continued to eat fast. “Can’t help it, sweetie. I only have a few minutes.”

  “A few minutes? I came all the way over here to have lunch with my wife, and you’re only giving me a few minutes?”

  “Can’t be helped. I’ve got job applicants coming in a few.”

  “You’re hiring?”

  “Have to. Donald’s got to work fulltime at that store until they decide what they’re going to do with it, and I’m getting more and more convention bookings for the next few months. I can’t wait on Donnie.”

  Charles nodded, and continued eating too. “Know what you mean,” he said. “Ashley’s decision to hastily move to New Jersey like that is affecting us all.”

  “Right,” said Jenay. “I even called Mick late last night.”

  Charles looked at her. “You called Mick? Why?”

  “Because I was worried about our child, Charles. Why do you think? Since he knew Monk, and you said he said Monk was a good man, I wanted to know if he could give me reassurances that Monk will take great care of Ashley.”

  Charles continued eating. He hated when they treated Mick as if he was some all-knowing sage who never made mistakes. Although he knew, when it came to the underworld, nobody knew it better. He looked at his wife. “What did he say?” he asked her. “Did he reassure you?”

  “No,” Jenay said as she finally stopped eating and leaned back. “Like you, he won’t sugar coat the truth not even for me.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said being married to a mob boss was brutal business.”

  “That’s all he said?”

  “He said life for Ashley was about to be a wild ride. Which meant we, as her parents, were going to be on that ride with her. Hold onto your hat, he said was all he could tell me.”

  “Hold onto your hat! What kind of talk is that? You would have been better off not asking him.”

  Jenay nodded. “I agree. I couldn’t sleep at all after that conversation. I don’t know how Roz stays married to him. He doesn’t let anybody down easy, does he?”

  “Never did and never will,” Charles said. “Not even as a child. He used to try to beat our old man’s ass when he was the youngest, and smallest thing in the house!” Charles’s cell phone began ringing. “Mick was the truth, even as a kid,” he added, as he looked at his Caller ID.

  “Who is it?” Jenay asked him.

  “That devil we were speaking of,” said Charles, and answered the call. “Hey.”

  “Bonaducci’s been hit,” Mick said without preamble.

  Charles’s heart squeezed. “Monk’s Bonaducci?” he asked anxiously.

  “That’s the only one I know.”

  “Is he dead?” Charles asked.

  Jenay’s heart dropped. “Who?”

  “He’s not dead,” Mick said, “but I don’t know how critical he is.”

  “Who, Charlie?” Jenay asked again.

  “Monk’s boss,” Charles said to Mick.

  “What about Ashley?” Jenay asked anxiously.

  “What about my daughter?” Charles asked Mick.

  “Ash and Monk were there,” Mick said over the phone, “but they’re both okay.”

  “Ashley was there?”

  “Yes, but she’s okay.”

  “Charlie?!” Jenay was getting hysterical.

  “She’s okay,” Charles quickly said to Jenay.

  “Monk too?”

  “They’re both okay,” Charles said to Jenay. “I’ve got to eyeball Ashley for myself,” he said to Mick, “before I can believe she’s alright. And none of that Skype shit either. I want to see her face to face.”

  “I’m on my plane now heading your way,” Mick said. “Get to the airport.”

  “I’ll be there,” Charles said, and ended the call.

  “What happened?” Jenay asked nervously. She was leaned forward.

  “There was a hit on Bonaducci is all we know right now.”

  “But you said Ashley was there.”

  “She was, at least from what Mick’s been told. Monk was there, too, which I’m sure means he protected her. They’re both alright. But I’m going to see that shit for myself.”

  “I’ll come too.”

  “No, you won’t either,” Charles said firmly. “You aren’t going anywhere near that hot zone. I’ll let you know as soon as I eyeball Ash.”

  “And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?” Jenay asked.

  Charles rose to his feet and began putting back on the suit coat he had taken off. “You’re going to stay here, interview your applicants, and do everything else you planned to do. I’ll keep you informed.” But he saw the pain of worry all over her pretty face.

  “Come here,” he said to her.

  Jenay didn’t hesitate. She hurried to Charles and he wrapped her in his big arms. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart,” he said to her. He pulled her back to get a look at her. “You hear me, right? They don’t call me Big Daddy for nothing.”

  Jenay smiled.

  “I’ll check on her,” Charles continued. “She’s going to be alright.”

  But tears began to appear in Jenay’s eyes. “It’s only been down there two days and it’s happening already,” she said. “She’s only been down there with him two days.”

  “I know that. You think I’m not angry about it? Yes, I’m pissed about it. But this is the life she wanted. This is the shit she wanted shoved down her throat day in and day out being married to that character. She got what she wanted. We can only hope she learned her lesson, and she’s ready to come back home.”

  Jenay studied Charles’s face. “You think that’s likely?”

  Charles, as Jenay knew, was brutally honest too. “No,” he said. “Knowing Ashley and how hard she’s fallen for Monk, I would say it’s highly unlikely. But we can still hope,” he added, and held Jenay again.

  Then he took off for the airport.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Monk was on the phone as Ashley plated some Chinese takeout and headed for the table. They were in Monk’s kitchen, sitting at the kitchen table, and Monk was on the phone listening more than he was talking.

  “Thanks, babe,” he said to Ash as she sat down his plate. “Not your ass,” he said into the phone. “I was talking to my wife. What else?”

  Ashley smiled when he mistakenly called her his wife and sat her plate down, too. She knew it was just a mistake, but it still felt good to hear him say it. Then she headed back to get their two glasses of wine. As she made her way back to the table, Monk finally ended the call. But before he could say a word to Ashley, or before she could say a word to him, his phone began ringing again. Monk was surprised. It was the Don’s special ring. The Don was calling him? He put the call on Speaker, and answered quickly. “Hello?”

  “I can take a licking, can’t I, Frankie?” The Don had vigor in his voice.

  Monk and Ashley looked at each other. They were pleasantly surprised. “Are you okay, Godfather?”

  “Am I okay? Yeah, I’m okay. I mean, for an old guy with a couple of slugs in him I’m okay. Though those slugs aren’t exactly in me. I was only grazed, thank God, though it tore through my soft tissue. So I’ve been better, I’ll tell you that much. But I’m okay.”

 

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