Cigar Bar (8 page)

Oh,
s
hit!
Becky’s young kitty was feeling too incredible! “Man, what the fuck?!” Tony yelped, flipping the girl over and starting to long-dick her.

In the corner of the room, a little red light came on, but nobody in the room noticed. They were too busy to notice.

As the camera zoomed in, Uncle Gene sat in a little room that he had built some years earlier. Here he could watch small monitors of footage taken by hidden video cameras that he had placed in every room. Nobody knew about it. He built this room in the back of the motel and never let anyone in. As he zoomed in on his niece and Tony, Gene pulled out his little pecker and began to whack off. How funny he looked. His tiny penis was no bigger than his pinky. He was a nerd who wore big glasses. When he jerked off, his head bopped up and down extra hard, and his glasses flopped all over the place. He got so into jerking off that he made a crazy noise like
Nn, Nn, Nnoo-oo
and then fell over to the side, crushing his already-smashed glasses. He needed more tape to fix them again.

From the time he turned the camera on, it took only one minute and ten seconds for him to pull his pinky out and nut all over himself. “Wow!” he said as he shut the light off, locked down his private spot, and hurried back to the front lobby.

Tony and the young girl had fallen asleep. In the middle of the night, Becky snuck out while Tony slept. Before she left, she kissed him softly and whispered, “Thank you.”

Tony was able to sleep securely knowing the Glock was under his pillow. With the intensity of the drug and his lack of sleep, he was in zombie land. The front door of the room creaked open. A shadow slowly moved across the room as if it were a ghost. Tony lay butt-ass naked on the bed, his right hand under the pillow, the rest of his ripped body in plain sight. The shadow watched the body of the man for a minute as a small moan escaped from its direction. In the darkness, Tony squirmed and moaned loudly. In an instant, the shadow was gone, and, along with it, so was Tony’s briefcase.

Veto Santoro

In the back of a small, Italian restaurant sat five dons. At a table next to them were underbosses. Each man had a meal in front of him. They
all had
some type of scrumptious pasta with large meatballs or delicious mouthwatering sausages. The men sat, ate, and talked. Security was tight.

The five families held an emergency meeting, called by Don Veto. He wanted them to join up with him against the Ukrainians. Whether they joined him or not, he was going after them. Veto knew that there was a good chance that he would lose against the Ukrainians without the assistance of the other families. Together, they outnumbered the police force, and with the families’ help, he could attack from the inside and shut down all of Mr. Y’s businesses.

“Listen, Veto, we understand your gripe, but we gotta look at the situation here. Your brother Tony, may God rest his soul,” Don D’Agosta said as he made the sign of the cross on his chest and pointed in the air to show respect. The others followed suit. “We understand, but this thing here with your son we can’t get behind. I mean, even
you
know your son has been doing these types of things for years, and we shunned him from the family for his actions in the past. Now, if we go after them, we’re telling people that we support his actions, and that we cannot be a part of.”

Veto dropped his fork and knife, looked away from his steak, and pushed his chair back. Before he could finish, his bodyguard ran up behind him to assist. “You know I gotta say something.” He stood. “I cannot give my son a fuckin’ open casket! Why? Because he’s in too many fuckin’ pieces, that’s why! I watched my fuckin’ brother lay in a hospital with a fuckin’ steel rod in his head!” He began to get louder and louder. “And now you’re telling me that you won’t get behind me?!” He cleared his throat and continued. “Now, this shit is really fuckin’ funny!!” He sat down and went back to cutting his steak.

The other men didn’t bat an eye as they continued eating their meals. The waitress came in with the wine, filling everybody’s glasses. One of the underbosses pinched her butt and she flinched.

“Ay, what the fuck is wrong with you, Don Antonio from the Mazzareli family aid to his underboss?

“What? She’s cute,” he replied and shrugged it off, turning back to his pasta, taking a forkful, and shoveling it into his mouth. “I tell you what,” he said, a mouthful of food, “that son of yours has been getting into a lot of shit over the years. I mean, hey, there’s no way in the fuckin’ world we’re gonna help that fuckin’ junkie prick!” The man laughed.

Before he could finish, Don Veto was on top of him, punching and then choking the hell out of the young underboss from another family. Everybody grabbed for Veto as they attempted to pull him off of the young boy. Veto was strong and, as he let go, he caught the kid with a nice, hard right cross that put the man on his ass. “If you ever disrespect my family again, I’ll whoop your ass again! Fuck!”

The young underboss sat on the floor, spit out some blood, and laughed. “Well, hell, I’m only speaking the truth.” Veto tried to lunge at him again.

“Enough!” shouted Labruzzo the head of all of the families. He walked over to the underboss that Veto had punched and bitch-slapped the man across the face. “I will not tolerate the disrespect of one of your dons, not on my watch, not in my presence! Now get the fuck up, and get the fuck outside!”

The man rose without a word, grabbed his jacket from the chair, threw a quick look at Veto, and walked out of the room. “Now, as for you, Veto, I want to apologize for the swift tongue of the young man, and the fact that he is my grandson doesn’t help. For that, I am sorry. But honestly speaking, Don Veto, what would you expect us to do in this situation?” He walked over to Don Veto and put his arm around him in an effort to calm him down.

All the other dons stood as he and Veto walked from the room. He took Veto into the kitchen and put an apron on. He motioned for Veto to grasp another apron, but Veto was not in the mood to cook. He declined the invitation.

The godfather understood. “Not everyone agrees with you. There was a complete violation, one that your son continued to make.” The godfather talked and motioned for the chef to give them the room. All of the cooks and chefs walked out of the back of the restaurant. The old man began to chop garlic while he spoke. “Now, the bad part of this is, he did most of these things while using our family’s name! Do you know how many police officers have come to me because they knew they couldn’t go to you because you have a bad temper, Don Veto?” He walked over to him and put his arms around Don Veto. “Veto, you are my son. The man you just beat up in there is my grandson, and the fact that you just beat up your nephew only proves my point.”

“And what point is that, Pops? The point that we’re gonna let this prick shit all over our family?”

“No!
The point that we must find a different way to go after him! If we start a war in the streets with these guys, the FBI will shut all operations down in a matter of days!” He lifted his son’s head “No, Veto, what we need to do is find Tony. He’s missing and we don’t know if he’s dead or alive. What we
do
know is a lot of fuckin’ shit went down in the past week. We need to relax and connect the dots. You got me, Veto?”

He didn’t wanna hear it. Veto solved everything with violence. “Veto, I keep telling you: We can’t always result to violence to solve our problems.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, look at what they did to your grandson.”

The godfather shook his head. “I tried my best to get him straight, but the boy didn’t want to listen. For years we screamed at him and Tony, but they didn’t hear a goddamn thing! Now Tony is God knows where, and Frankie, oh God, Frankie!” The old man stumbled as Veto ran to his father to prevent him from falling to the floor.

He sat the old man in the chair, grabbed another chair, and sat down in front of his father. The two mafia bosses sat in the back room, crying. This was a rare moment that no one would ever see or know about. The two men were not mafia men at that moment; they were father and grandfather mourning the loss of their children.

Veto got up, walked over to the bar, and poured two scotches over ice. “I love you, Dad, I really do. I can’t let this shit go down like that. Nobody is going to come into my fuckin’ house and murder my family and expect to walk around freely, as if nothing ever fuckin’ happened, whether you’re with me or not.” He took a sip of his drink. “I hope that you
do
help me, Pops.

I’m gonna find this guy, and I will not be talkin’ when we meet.” He knocked his drink off in one final swallow. He put the glass on the table, wiped the tears from his face, and walked to the door.

His father stood up. “Don’t do this!”

Veto looked back at his father, said nothing, dropped his head, opened the door, and walked out, Veto sat in the back of a black 2015 Yukon Denali flanked by four men each carrying a machine gun under their trench coats except for his right hand, Sal. Sal was real smooth but, like Veto, he cared nothing about anybody. Sal carried a Winchester SXP Extreme Marine Defender Pump-Action shotgun. It was chrome, with black handles and, once a week, Sal would get out his utensils, take his gun apart, and spray and clean it.

He had a special rack built in to the middle of his seat like police officers had in their cars As he placed his gun there, he said, “We found out that Paulie is also looking for Tony. Apparently, Tony got his little sister hooked on heroin and had sex with her.”

“What? Wait a minute. Tony did
what
?! Are you sure? That piece of shit, he fuckin’ left his father’s hospital room, and we haven’t seen him since. He didn’t even show up for the fuckin’ funeral!”

“And get this: When Paulie left the hospital, some Mulligan tried to take him out and almost did. They killed three of his guys, And check this shit out. Come to find out, it was Tony with Frankie that took down this Ukrainian fuck, and they say he got away with maybe a quarter mil.”

Veto chimed in. “Well, what the fuck is going on?” He reached into his pocket for his phone. “Hey, Steve, head on over to Paulie’s.”

The man immediately turned the car around.

Paulie’s phone rang but it was in the kitchen. The past week has been completely wild. He was too afraid to go outside, so he hired new muscle. Come to find out, Spazo and his goons raided each and every one of his spots and killed about 15 people. He didn’t know how to react. He wanted to keep an eye on his little sister, but he needed to get his business back up and running and take care of Spazo and Tony. He was so conflicted that he did nothing but stay at home and drink.

Paulie sat on the bed in his bedroom, a shotgun next to him. His arm was in a sling because he had gotten shot;it didn’t even hurt because of all the other shit going on in his life.

“Sherry,” he called out, “get in here!”

Young Sherry walked into the room and stood in front of her brother. She had been a prisoner; not allowed to do anything the past few weeks.

He stared at her with sorrow because he knew he had failed her. He couldn’t prevent the worst thing of all from happening to his little sister. As he looked at her, he saw it; he knew from all his years of selling heroin.

“Sherry,” he said, tears in his eyes. She tried to avoid his stare. “You wanna do that shit again, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t, Paulie. You’re stupid! I’m sorry I did it the one time, and I will never do it again!” she said and ran back into her room.

Paulie yelled, “You better fuckin’ not! Next time I’m gonna kill you! I won’t let you kill yourself!

Sherry squirmed on her bed. She wanted to feel what she felt with Tony. Like a flickering lightbulb, images of Tony having sex with her entered her mind. “Ohh, ahh, oohh, ahh!” Without realizing it, she lay on her bed, rubbing her clit, moaning louder and louder. “Tony, I need you!” she said through moans of pleasure. She could have sworn that he was right in front of her, rubbing his manhood; he wasn’t there, however. She reached up for him while she rubbed small circles on her sensitive skin.

One of the new bodyguards stood right outside her bedroom door. He heard her moaning and cracked the door a little bit. He stood there like a dumb ass with his cock in his hand. He saw that young, beautiful girl and he’d lost all reason. He rubbed himself while looking through the crack in the door.

The last thing he heard was, “Are you fuckin kidding me right now?” Then it was lights out.

Paulie couldn’t believe what he had just witnessed: his guard masturbating as he stood at his sister’s door. He thought he was dreaming at first, but it was real. Paulie pulled out his gun and hit the man over the head with the barrel.

As the man fell to the floor, Paulie opened his sister’s door and saw her writhing on the bed. Sherry leaped up when she heard the commotion. Paulie yelled, “Keep this fuckin’ door closed!” He turned to the man and picked him up. “You have to be the stupidest motherfucker alive!” Paulie laughed a shrill, evil laugh that shocked his men. No one had ever heard such a sound emanate from him.

They watched Paulie drag the man to the basement. One of the guards opened the door, and Paulie threw the guy downstairs headfirst. As he walked down the stairs, he began to laugh while taking his belt off.

One of the men touched him and said, “Hey, Paulie, listen… Stop, that’s my cousin.”

Paulie froze, drew his gun, and shot him.
Pop! Pop!
The man slid down the stairs and died. “Don’t you
ever
put your fuckin’ hands on me!” Paulie screamed. “Who the fuck are these two?” he asked.

Not one of the men spoke up. His men didn’t want to admit to being the one who referred them for the job as Paulie’s muscle. “Nobody wants to own up? Then I’ll find out myself!” Paulie lifted the pervert up and slammed him into a chair. He grabbed the man’s arms and tied them behind his back with the belt.

He slapped the man awake. “Hey, wake the fuck up!”
Slap, slap.
“Wake the fuck up!”