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Palmero Tremarchi, a heavy set man in his late
forties, sat behind a modest desk in his office above the butchery. The smell of
dead meat and dry ice rarely permeated the sizable room, thanks to the extra
insulation he had put in. Not that he hated the smell, but to have to put up
with it all day would get a bit much. He should be used to it. He’d been
working up here – his father’s centre of operations – for twenty years.
His father had liked the smell, or had been immune to it, one or the other. But
as soon as the old man had kicked, Palmero put the insulation in. Now it smelled
more like cigar smoke and strong aftershave.
It would be at least another ten years before
Palmero’s son Michael would take over, and he wondered what the place would
smell like then. Probably potato chips and soft drink, if his son’s current
tastes were any indication. But things were different in this day and age. Sons
didn’t necessarily follow their fathers into the family trade. And he wasn’t
sure how Michael would react when he found out the family trade was organized crime. Michael may not be receptive to such an idea. The Mob didn’t have the
same respect and fear in outside circles as it once did - it had lost its
romance. If Michael, Palmero’s only boy, didn’t want to continue his
father’s work, there were always cousins and nephews, but it wouldn’t be the
same. Palmero always felt a strange sense of apprehension when this topic
crossed his mind. It wasn’t the uncertainty that made him uneasy, but
something else he couldn’t put his finger on.
Palmero’s musings were interrupted as the door
opened and the aroma of salami came in, accompanied by his two capos. Vincenzo
and Benny strode in with a proud air and handed over bulging envelopes to
Palmero in turn. Both of them then took a step back from the desk and waited for
permission to be seated. Palmero granted this with a wave of his hand, a casual
gesture that didn’t quite compare to their strict adhesion of tradition rules.
He’d tried to tell them that those little rules didn’t apply to them
anymore, but they couldn’t break the habit.
“Come on boys, seriously, it’s not the twenties
anymore,” Palmero said past the cigar that was permanently jutting out the
side of his mouth. Both of them smiled and shrugged. Vincenzo relaxed and
slouched a little in his seat. Benny smoothed back his hair, adjusted his tie
and clasped his hands in front of him. Palmero smiled, shook his head, and opened
the envelopes. He didn’t need to count the money; neither of these guys jilted
him of so much as a dollar for all the time they had been working for him. He
put the sizeable amounts of cash together and tucked them away in the safe
behind him.
“You know, you guys are good earners. I may not tell
you this all the time, but I’ve been very blessed to be able to work with you
both.”
“Thanks Pal,” shot back Vincenzo. He was always
happy for a compliment.
“I need you guys to do a pick up from Ermine for me
tonight. Send him my apologies, but I gotta be at home.”
“Something special going on, Palmero?” Benny
asked.
“As a matter of fact, my little girl comes home from
university today,” Palmero beamed.
“Sophia’s coming home? I’ll bet Cathy’s happy
with that,” Vincenzo replied.
“Oh yeah,” Palmero said, as he lifted himself off
his chair, “it’s been a long three years for her, let me tell you.”
“I bet you’ve been on the receiving end each day
of those three years too,” laughed Benny.
“You better believe it,” Palmero laughed, as he
perched himself on the front of his desk. “It will be good to have Sophia
home. She’s always the one who keeps the peace around the house, believe it or
not.”
“Oh man, I wish my girl was like that!” Benny
rolled his eyes. “She’s forever slamming doors and screeching, drives me
nuts!”
“Never had a problem like that with Sophia,”
Palmero smiled.
“You’re very lucky, let me tell you!”
“Personally, Benny, I’d give her a good whack
behind the ears,” Vincenzo offered.
“Hell, you can’t do that no more. They go running
off to social services or something like that,”
“Or hit you back,” Palmero laughed.
“Man, they take karate and all sorts of stuff these
days to protect themselves, then take it out on us,” Benny crossed himself.
“Would be nice to smack ‘em upside every now and then, but it ain’t like
it used to be.”
“I don’t get karate,” Vincenzo shook his head,
“what’s the matter with a firearm, always saved me.”
“They’re illegal, in case you hadn’t noticed,”
Palmero laughed.
“What’s his name, the young guy from the Cabreze
Family out west, got caught with a Colt in his glove box; now he’s doing six
months,” Benny shook his head in unison with Vincenzo.
“Nuts,” Vincenzo said, “nuts. People kill
people, not guns, when are they going to figure that out?”
“When nut jobs stop carrying them around, and leave
them to the experts,” Palmero said.
“Yeah, like us,” Ermie laughed.
“Amen,” Benny chimed in. A knock came at the door.
“I’ll get it.” Benny strode over to the door and opened it a little ways,
then swung it wide when he saw who it was. “Well, look who we have here,
it’s the university professor.”
“Not quite,” Sophia smiled as she stepped in the
office and out of the smell of butchered meat. Benny kissed her lightly on each
cheek, as was the custom, then closed the door behind her. Vincenzo stood and
offered her the same.
“Look at you, only saw you six months ago, and
you’ve grown again.”
“I think I’ve stopped growing now, Uncle Vince.
Thanks anyway.”
“These kids, they never stop growing. Or I’m
shrinking, either way.”
Sophia smiled at the same comment she heard every
Christmas and Easter, then went over to her father. As they hugged, Benny and
Vincenzo left them alone in the office.
“Glad to be home?” Palmero asked as his daughter
took a seat.
“I haven’t been home yet. Thought I’d drop in
here on my way. Wasn’t sure what time you’d be home.”
“I promised your mother I would be home this
afternoon. You think I wouldn’t come home to welcome you back?”
“Sure.”
Palmero frowned as he studied her face. Her smile was
frozen, and her eyes looked too thoughtful for his liking.
“What is it?” Palmero sighed and leaned back.
Sophia’s smile remained, but her face and her voice somehow became hard as she
leaned forward and looked him dead in the eyes.
“I want a job.”
©
Cynthia M. Piromalli
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
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