ICING SHYLOCK - RICHARD GODWIN
So I’m sitting in Parkside, Anthony Federici’s place. I got connections. What the fuck, I was made at eight. There’s been a few scuffles in the administration, nothing major. Only a few dead bodies. I’ve just ordered Osso Bucco, I can smell the veal sizzling. I love a bone with a hole, and my comare Graziella has her hand on my thigh. Her nails are Chianti red as she slides her fingers upwards when he walks in. Freddy the fucking Shylock. No more than a babania, a babo.
‘So, Tony, how’s it going?’ he says, laying his sweaty palm on my shoulder.
I check my Armani suit for grease marks and catch the angry flicker in Graziella’s eyes.
‘Good, I’m a little busy right now but-’
He cuts me off.
‘There’s a little something owing,’ he say, cupping his hand next to my ear.
I return his gaze and watch his eyes wander down Graziella’s cleavage, hovering at the edge of her La Senza bra.
Look, I gotta tell you this guy’s a cafone, his mother used to hide him under shopping when she took him out, you know. He’s got this puckered face. Gotta pay for his snatch. I ain’t respecting some smart ass like that. But they call me Tony Two Times and I stand by my name. I always give them a chance. I mean, you gotta play fair, right?
‘Excuse me,’ I say to Graziella, and leave her sipping her Prosecco.
I wander the marble corridor.
‘What the fuck do you think coming here and embarrassing me like that? Do you know I’m getting married?’
He smiles, flashing his big yellow teeth at me. It’s ugly his smile, like someone cracked an egg on his fucking face and I think of pliers, my favourite tool. I like to remove their teeth when I’m on a hit, one by fucking one. It’s surprising how much information you can get like that. Crack. Scream. Crack. Scream.
They whine like little girls. They want their mommas. They pray to Christ.
I was hired once to get some vig. Some smart ass reneged on his debts. I like that word renege. So I kidnapped the guy’s son and friend. I called him, I gave him a chance. The asshole never paid. I killed them with a broken Corona bottle and drank a cup of the son’s blood. That was before I gave up coke.
Now I look at Freddy and see he’s nothing more than an empty suit.
‘I’ll get you the money,’ I say, ‘next week.’
He shakes his head.
I can see he’s enjoying this.
‘You know what’s happening in a few days?’ I say. ‘Me and Graziella, I’m a fucking earner.’
He starts to walk away.
‘Not good enough, Tony, bye bye.’
He waves and that’s when it comes to me. I have to do it. The guy’s half a hard-on with a suitcase, he’s a fucking problem, got no respect. He needs to go. I’ll do it for Graziella. She’s a fucking diamond, my best asset.
‘OK, I’ll pay it,’ I say.
I go through to Graziella and she flashes her eyes at me.
‘I’ll only be a few minutes.’
While Freddy’s waiting, I steal out front and slash one of his tyres. Then I walk with him to his Benz.
‘Hey, what the fuck?’ he says.
I lay a hand on his shoulder.
‘Kids these days,’ I say. ‘I’ll change it in two minutes.’
He opens the trunk and hands me the jack. Dumb fuck. I smash his head in, bundle him inside, and drive him to Long Island.
The night’s like black velvet as I cut his gut open, release the gases, and weigh him down. Not a murmur, he sinks like a stone.
Back at Parkside, Graziella’s a little mad, but she soon calms down. I marry her two days later. Tony Federici puts the call through for me and I pay my debt. Fuck, she’s his only daughter. Freddy was small time.
These Young Turks, what do they know? Me, I’m enjoying the finest comare snatch this side of Sicily.
Year of an Indie Writer: Week 29
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