Romeo of the Streets (5 page)

At night every street was the same—it didn’t matter if it was New York or Chicago—it all meant the same thing. It all looked the same. Sometimes he felt like the whole world was just one big labyrinth of twisting alleyways and crowded streets, bars and nightclubs and seedy back offices full of thugs and tyrants and killers that he had to do something,
somehow
, to stop—before they cursed the whole world to the hell they created around them. Yeah, he knew there was beauty out there, there were mountains and forests and nature and love in the world, hell, he’d even seen it, but sometimes… Sometimes that all seemed like just a dream he’d woken up from one foggy twilight morning. And now the twisting streets, bathed in the dim orange light of the streetlamps of midnight, well maybe this was all there really was—the whole unholy universe.

He shook his head, smiling slightly at himself at how he’d been letting his mind wander. They’d warned him that it would get to him—that it would start to press on his emotional resolve and even affect his thinking—but he hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected this
coldness
that had enveloped him. What happened when you told a lie for so long that it started to feel like the truth, even to you? What happened to your soul, did it just lock itself away deep inside you until the job was done? And what if he couldn’t let it out again when and if that happened? What then?

Somehow the thought filled him with a dread that was just strong enough to penetrate the all-pervasive chill that seemed now to be simply one more part of who he was as a person.

A light rain smattered on his windscreen and he flicked on the wipers. On the radio Credence were blasting out their version of “
I Heard it Through the Grapevine
” and he began to tap his hands on the wheel with vigor when they got to the solo that was, in his opinion, nothing short of virtuoso. Ok, so at least enough of him was still sufficiently vibrant and alive to enjoy the music, but then again with a solo this good, who wouldn’t? Even a dead man would rock out to this.

He drove on through the night on his way to make the meet, feeling grateful that the city seemed so quite tonight, even unusually so. Lana had arranged for the catch-up to take place at an overpass out near the St. Vincent Turnpike, a reconnaissance point that was, on paper at least, not half bad. But in reality—and Lana should have known this, and for the life of him he wasn’t certain that she
didn’t
actually know it—it was liable to be problematic. The turnpike was right near the Reichmann rubber processing plant, a factory with strong ownership ties to the Falcone Mafia Family, and the late-shift workers would be getting off work right around now, just as the night-shift guys would be coming on to replace them. Sure, none of them were likely to recognize him, flying under the radar at the moment as he was, but if any of the Falcone crew happened to be checking in that night then there was a good chance he would be recognized as the man known as Romeo Mancini. His face was already starting to be known in the necessary circles and, as planned, his reputation as a rising gangster was already growing fast.

But despite all this, it was something else entirely that preoccupied his mind as he drove the final ten minutes or so towards the overpass. He could still smell her—even though she’d only been in his car for five minutes at most that day—and this fact both confused and excited him, for reasons that he couldn’t quite consciously understand. Who she was, what she’d come from and what she represented—her brother—
her father for Christ’ sake
—every logical synapse in his brain impelled him to forget about her, but he couldn’t. He knew that even for all that she’d been through, all the tragedy and hardship and basic injustice that had formed the lives around her as she grew, she was, just like him, a genuinely moral and caring person. And even though that was so rare (or perhaps because it was), he’d still seemed to recognize and resonate with her true personality on a level that was almost soul-deep, instantaneously. Even after only meeting her a couple of times, he
knew
exactly who she was. Because, just like her, he too had grown from an environment that had been tarnished and corrupted irreparably by the predatory tentacles of organized crime
. Together, hundreds of miles apart, and not meeting until early adulthood, they had both somehow survived that darkness with their morals and their souls intact. They had never embraced the seedy promise of criminality that was everywhere around them in their separate worlds apart and in that sense they were the same. He had never met anybody else who could even begin to understand what that meant and felt like so deeply.

He thought of her pretty, sensible face, the soft brown hair and intelligent, hurried eyes hidden behind her glasses, of how curt she was with him, how deliberately cold she could be (something that he wasn’t much used to from a
ny
member of the fairer sex, no matter who they were), and even that coldness just made him want her more. After all, the kind of girl he would desire most above them all would never want anything to do with a man like “Romeo Mancini”. She would never want to get involved with a soldier of the Mafia, like he was supposed to be.

But worse than this aching desire to just reach out and caress her, to make her his own and show her who he truly was beneath all the lies and subterfuge, there was the burning and perilous compulsion to
warn
her, to call her up and just tell her to get away from all this, even to leave her brother behind (who was, in Romeo’s opinion, not a bad guy, even despite his bad choices). He longed to impel her to run from this world, before it sucked her in and blackened her pure soul with its disease, because in this tale there were no happy endings for the innocents caught in the sidelines. In this story, even the good guys had to pack heat and look over their shoulder at every turn and even then they still might end up at the bottom of the ocean with cement for shoes.

But now, even if he survived the perilous mission ahead, there would likely be no happy ending for him either. Not for as long as he couldn’t get the name of Sandra Guilianno off his lips.

He pulled off from the turnpike, down the slipway into the discreet darkness below. His face was grim and he could only hope that none of the Falcone goombas were on the scene tonight, but as he pulled his car out towards Lana’s gleaming white Cadillac (a car which, he noted with a disdainful shake of the head, just about screamed upper-echelon Law Enforcement) he couldn’t help but smile at the thought that if the Falcone guys actually
were
in the area tonight, then this of all places would probably have made a perfect place for them to do their own business too. Imagine that particular coincidence? Don’t mind us guys, just an FBI agent and an undercover New York cop shooting the shit. Oh, I look like Romeo Mancini? Never heard of him, sorry pal…

If something like that actually happened he hoped Lana would take a bullet in the ass. She deserved it for picking such a sketchy location.

He dimmed his lights as he slowed his car to a halt and the door of the Cadillac opened immediately as Lana stepped out. She was tall, thin and blonde, wearing a smart grey business suit above shiny, bright red heels that definitely weren’t company issue (who was she trying to impress out here anyway?) and a smug, self-satisfied smile on her smartass Barbie’s face that said: yes, I know I’m hot, educated, rich and beautiful, thank you very much, now why don’t you kiss my ass?

He turned the ignition and then got out of the car. “Lana,” he nodded.

“Hi Romeo,” Lana smiled, fluttering her eyelashes with an affectedly smitten girlishness.

He winced. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” Lana asked, “It’s your name now isn’t it? I think it suits you.”

Smiling slightly, he shook his head in mild disbelief at her attitude.

Lana’s face turned serious and she looked him up and down with a cold, business-like appraisal. “Good, you’re smiling. That means the job’s not getting to you
too
much…”

That thing she did irritated him. Changing gears the moment someone got on the same page with her. It was like she wanted to be chased just so she could have someone to shoot down. He could care less. From the moment they’d met, there had always been something about the FBI agent that rubbed him the wrong way and when he’d been informed that she was going to be his handler in this job, his heart had sunk. He’d even considered asking for someone else, but had eventually decided against it—a decision that he now feared would be one he would soon come to regret.

“
…aaand
it’s gone!” Lana said, scrutinizing his face and the smile that had slowly disappeared from it. “You know Romeo, I had my doubts about you the minute you walked into HQ. I mean sure, you had balls—and hell maybe I’d even like to see em someday—but I could tell right away that you were just too moody for this game. You’re so fricking
sensitive
.”

The smile reappeared in an instant. “Sensitive?” he said, “You think I’m sensitive… that’s cute Lana, real cute. I knew you had a soft side.” He’d already let her get under his skin once tonight and he was going to make certain it was only once. The sexually-suggestive comment—the one he knew she would
really
want to see him react to—he ignored completely. It wasn’t even worth his consideration.

“You can call me whatever you want Lana,” he said. “I don’t care either way.”

“I know I can,” Lana smiled, “and I did. Who do you think it was assigned you that code-name in the first place?”

The wry grin on his lips faltered, but only slightly, before restoring itself to its full casual superciliousness.

“You read a lot of Shakespeare?” he asked.

“No, but I rent the movies.”

He laughed, for real this time. “Yeah, I bet you do. Ok, let’s do this.”

He told her about the meeting with Salvatore Falcone and his two rat-faced goons at the Eden nightclub, about their plan to move in hard on the CCU campus, using himself and Louis Guilianno as their on-ground representatives.

“Wow, I’m impressed, Romeo,” Lana said. “Really, you move fast. Maybe even
too
fast… you ever get that complaint from a gal before?”

He looked at her coolly, wry smile, and shook his head once. She’d have to do better than that.

“Um, ok,” Lana continued, “so talk to me about the Guiliannos, Louis and Sandra. I’ll tell you something, the guys at HQ were surprised to hear those names come up again.”

“Yeah, I bet they were,” he said. “Well there’s not really much to say. Lou’s little more than a two-bit hood, an alright kid who thinks he’s got something to prove. I think I could probably even get him to turn eventually, if it comes to it. His heart’s in the right place.”

“Yeah, well his prick’s not, is it?” Lana muttered. “Remember Romeo, these guys are the enemy.”

“He’s just a kid, Lana.”

Lana glanced at him, a slow smile spreading across her face. “He’s the same age as you are, Don.”

At the mention of his real name, his face softened. It had been a long time since anybody had addressed him that way and when he saw Lana’s expression, he sensed that that was probably the only reason she’d done so in the first place. She loved to get a reaction out of him, no matter how she did it.

“What about the sister?” she asked, moving on from the moment.

“What about her? She’s a student, works part-time in a café for an elderly neighbor to support herself and her mom. She’s straight Lana, straight as they come, never mind who her father was.”

“She’s a
Guilianno
,” Lana said, “of course she’s not straight. What about university—where’s she getting the money for that?”

“Scholarship,” he answered, “I hear she’s a gifted student.”

“Yeah,” Lana scoffed, “I bet. And what, is she going to become an
accountant
like her father was, too? Who’s she going to work for then?”

“I said she’s clean. Trust me on this one.”

Lana Smith shrugged her perfect shoulders and flipped through her notepad. “Ok, just one more thing. Tell me about this accident today, this Gino Morelli guy?”

Romeo swallowed. How had she heard about that? This was bad. Once the FBI got involved it was out of his hands and if Sandy accepted Lou’s offer of financial assistance then she would be making herself an accessory to criminal activity. Just another cog in the case they were building, and in fact she’d probably look like the perfect candidate for his FBI superiors to bully into turning informant. He couldn’t let that happen. Despite her background—despite everything that had happened to her—Sandy was an honest person and to him that was a miracle that he wouldn’t let anyone destroy.

“Not much to tell,” Romeo said, “the old guy fell down some stairs, he’s in hospital now.”

Lana cocked her head, looking him up and down with a predatory grin on her shiny apple-red lips. “And you were the knight in shining armor, come to the rescue, were you? Romeo, Romeo—wherefore art thou Romeo?”

“Give me a break.”

“Keep it together Romeo, remember who she is. If you want to blow off some steam with a woman I’m sure something could be arranged… Not this one though, Sandra Guilianno’s off limits.”

Romeo stared at her coolly. Yeah, he thought, I bet you’d like to “arrange” something like that Lana and guess what? It’s never going to happen.

In the distance the shift bell at the rubber factory screeched icily into the night and Romeo looked at the gold-plated gangster-style watch on his wrist. “I have to go,” he said, “Keep it real Lana, I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, you too cutie,” Lana called after him as he climbed back into his vehicle.

He started it up and drove away across the concrete wasteland, well aware that Lana was leaning against her own car in the background, watching him thoughtfully as he left.