A Mafia Tale:Chapter One

Giovanni Montablo speculated which of his associates had betrayed his interest in the dead barmaid. Rosa Bella was viciously raped and stabbed in a dark avenue off a quiet road in Brooklyn. Giovanni, a feared yet respected soldier of the Gambino family had a burdensome reputation for his scare tactics and persuasive methods of fulfilling extortion. This was probably one of a fair few reasons why he hadn’t been promoted within the family, this frustrated him incredibly. For the past year or so this ‘feared and respected’ soldier was relinquishing his work standards and was slipping faster than a degraded weak-feminine-tight ass guinea. His work was lacking the family quality, which was essential for a man such as him to be respected. If the readers of local newspapers didn’t see his picture which portrayed his Italian features, then they’d most likely think it was just another man doing what colored people were best at.

The family had had enough of this nonsense which was brining not just shame but the media and detectives onto their doorsteps. The caporegime, Vincent Gambino who was the buffer between the head of the family and its workers had to do something about this bastard. Vincent, a short but stocky man who respected family virtues knew Giovanni had a family, which meant putting this bastard out of work would be too harsh on the wife and children. Instead, he had simply demoted him from the streets to a small office in Brooklyn where he would fill out family pay slips.
Not long after this crude but necessary decision by Vincent, a barmaid had been murdered and someone had grassed Giovanni’s name into the equation. There’s was no reason why he’d even need to spill blood now, a pen and cheque was all he needed for a salary. This was the last straw; he needed to be dealt with before the persistent media would find out about the Gambino’s involvement in this brutal murder. Don Gambino had summoned this no good hustler to his home in Washington heights, Manhattan, to put an end to this foolishness.

The big hand had just struck nine pm before Giovanni had been ushered into the don’s office by Vincent. Vincent acknowledged the fact that Giovanni was bewildered by who would drop him in this situation.
“Stand up when the don enters the room and sit down when I give you the sign, greet him by shaking his hand and calling him ‘Don Gambino’. He’ll ask you if you want any refreshments, you say no. If you got a dry throat then drink some whiskey outta my flask” he handed Giovanni a silver flask which was perfected by its golden rim. Giovanni gulped the content of the flask before his boss snatched it out of his trembling hands.
“Kid, I said ‘some’ not the whole fucking thing. Now, you’ve clenched your thirst, stop shaking you son of a bitch. If the don sees you in this state he’ll cut off my balls for employing such a fag, capishe?” the barmaid murderer nodded his head to show Vincent he understood. The obedient nodding soon stopped when the office door opened. Giovanni didn’t even bother to turn around and look, he knew it was him. He stood up and lifted his head and took his quivering hands out of his trousers.
“SIT DOWN!” the don had spoken with anger, his heavy Italian accent had cut through the once peaceful atmosphere. Only two souls would be guaranteed the right to live once this meeting was finished.