Chapter 8 - Aftermath and Shadows
The next morning,
the sun rose over a different city.
The smoke from the warehouse was a thin ribbon on the horizon.
The Vipers were gone,
scattered or dead,
their influence erased in a single night of fire.
Vincent sat at his desk in the back of the restaurant.
The ledgers were back in place,
the gold pens lined up in a row.
But something was different.
He couldn't focus on the numbers.
He couldn't think about the shipments of wine or the protection money.
He kept thinking about the look on Sophie's face.
Tony walked in,
carrying a fresh cup of espresso.
"The word is out,
Boss,"
Tony said.
"The other families are talking."
"They want to know why you went to war for a five-dollar bill."
Vincent took a sip of the bitter coffee.
"Let them talk,"
he said.
"It’s good for them to be confused."
"Confused men are careful men."
"But Moretti is angry,"
Tony warned.
"He had a deal with the Vipers for the dock space."
Vincent set the cup down with a sharp 'clack'.
"Moretti can come see me if he has a problem,"
Vincent said.
"Tell him I cleaned up the trash."
"And tell him if he ever hires trash like that again,
I’ll clean up his house next."
Tony nodded,
suppressing a smile.
"Understood."
"What about the woman and the girl?"
"I’ve set them up in an apartment in the North End,"
Vincent said.
"It’s a safe building."
"I want a man on them for a month."
"Discreetly."
"They don't need to know they're being watched."
"And make sure the mother has a job."
"Maria needs help in the kitchen,
doesn't she?"
"She does,
Boss."
"Then hire her."
"Give her a real salary."
"The kind a woman can raise a daughter on."
Vincent looked out the window at the morning traffic.
He was a man who lived by a code,
and that code was often bloody.
But today,
the code felt right.
He had protected his territory.
He had settled a debt.
He had kept a promise.
He reached into his drawer and pulled out a small,
silver frame.
He hadn't looked at the picture inside for years.
It was a photo of a young boy and a woman,
standing in front of a small house in Italy.
The boy was smiling.
The woman looked tired,
but proud.
Vincent traced the edges of the frame.
"Five dollars,"
May you like
he whispered to the empty room.
"It was a bargain."
