Indebted to the Mafia King
Making the Right Choice

Dante

Sunday morning comes bright and early to the bed I custom-ordered so long ago to hold the random women I was fucking. When I wake up next to a naked, fucked-out El, covered in bruises she begged me for from neck to knee, my first thought is that I've never asked her if the mattress is comfortable. She's going to be my wife, the mother of my children. So much of our life is still mine. I kiss her sleeping cheek and roll over to check my phone for mattresses that allow people to adjust both sides to their comfort.

I should've known. My screen is covered with notifications. Capos, allies, people from the funeral. Tony. I open his first.

Cal called me too. I set up a meeting with him and a triad representative to talk. I'll roll your ass out of bed if I have to.

I snort. Cal Duncan is getting bossy. But neither he nor Tony is wrong. If they really have a lead on Fyodor, I need to fucking do something about that. I roll out of bed with a groan and dress quickly to hide the marks El left on me as revenge. The rest of my notifications are less pressing. I flick through them while I make coffee, then write a note to El and leave it on the counter. By the time Tony texts that he's outside, I'm more or less ready to face the day. I pour another coffee for myself and one for Tony into to-go cups and stroll outside. He sits behind the wheel of his favorite car, looking tired. He was mostly quiet at the funeral yesterday, letting other people talk, and I wonder how he'll be today. The text suggests he's at least somewhat back to his old self.

Still, when I get in the car, he's silent for a long moment.

"Tell Eleni,” he says slowly before pulling out, "thanks."

"You could do it yourself." I offer him his coffee.

He takes it, shakes his head, and begins the long drive into the city.

I sip my coffee, and instead of focusing on the important meeting waiting for me on the other end, my mind drifts to last night. El's right. Despite everything, we're somehow still young. At least, in theory. I don't know if I've been young since 1 graduated college, even before my dad died. But there was a freedom to last night that I've been missing. Pretending we had nothing to be scared of... it was damn near more fulfilling than pretending we already had the family we've been dreaming of.

"What do you think would happen if I didn't go to this meeting?" I ask.

Tony glances at me out of the corner of his eye. "I'd think you got out of bed for no good goddamn reason."

"No, I mean " I shake my head. "Do you think you could handle it? Cal and Wing?"

He stares out the window at the city growing larger in the distance. "Cal's easy. A hell of a lot easier than he thinks he is, even. Wing...he wants to think of himself as the logical one. He loses respect for people who blow up, but he doesn't want to be out-thought either." Tony shrugs. "It'd suck, today, but I think I could do it."

I nod slowly. I wouldn't have described Wing like that, but to be fair, I keep blowing up at him. The old triad liaison was easier to work with.

"Fuck, I'll say it." Tony sighs. "Your priorities have shifted. You're asking me how I'd handle things. Are you walking out?"

I swallow. Am I? Every time El and I approach the conversation, we back down again.

"Tell me before I have to pick up the pieces of a syndicate you disappeared on in the dead of night," Tony mutters.

"I'm not gonna do that to you," I say quickly.

"And the rest?"

I let the question hang in the air for long minutes.

"We have to handle the Russians first," I say. "Then, I'll take a good, hard look at my priorities. But you have to do that too. I'm not dropping something on the shoulders of a man who doesn't want it."

Tony nods, and we drive the rest of the way to the neutral meeting location he picked out, some bodega in Queens, in silence. When we arrive, the taciturn owner escorts us to a back room where Cal and Wing are already waiting with their own seconds.

"And here I thought we were going to have to meet without you," Cal says without heat. "That Verrazano giving you trouble?"

"Something like." Tony drops into one of the empty chairs around a circular table. "Let's be frank. The guy out front runs a floating card game. He's not loyal to us, but he's not loyal to any of us, capiche?" Cal flips a salute.

Wing sighs. "Mr. Duncan was just about to tell me what he knows. Are you sure we're free from prying ears?"

"Prying ears who give a shit, yes." I sit next to Tony. "What do you have?"

Cal grins. "Fyodor isn't a name with a lot of personal buzz, but it opens a few doors, if you know where to give it out. I've got the bastard's network, or at least a chunk of it."

Wing sits forward. "Warehouses, runners, bases?"

"And all," Cal replies. "Though I figure each we hit'll unlock a few more."

I grin. "Sounds like it's time to smoke his ass out."

Wing puts up a hand. "Hold, gentlemen. You seem to have worked out some kind of agreement, and while I'd love the Russians out of the city as much as the next one, I don't intend to be left out of a territory agreement." Cal laughs. "G'wan, there isn't an agreement here beyond returning what's properly ours."

"And the Lombardi territory?" Wing looks at me.

"Split between the Kings and the Saints." I cross my arms. "Because we dropped both Lombardis, if we're taking stock, and Cal tracked down this network. You bring together something this good and we'll talk." "How does this appeal: we split it three ways, and I don't bring all of Chinatown down on your head?" Wing says.

I laugh tiredly. "We all have organizations to bring to bear. Any one of us hits one of the others, the other two pound him to dust."

"I will not be forgotten." Wing scowls.

An eye roll and the words, "couldn't if I tried" sit on the tip of my tongue, but I remember Tony's words in the car.

"There's a straight shot from Chinatown to the harbor through Lombardi territory," I say. "Free passage through there in perpetuity, no announcements needed."

"Now, that cuts a tail of Kings land," Cal complains.

I look at him. "I know. But the Russians are swarming this place like rats, killing our people and taking our shit. Together, we can crush them. Is a tail worth the whole goddamn rat king?"

Cal scowls. "Put your fellas in a color. I don't care what, but let me know so I don't take an innocent agreement as something untoward."

Wing inclines his head. "This, I can do. Shall we parcel up the work, then?"