Enough with the mustache pete's,

The two young gangsters were in a hurry. They always seemed to be in a hurry. It was very different than the old country. Very different then how things were done when the Clutching Hand was the capo di tutti i capi.

In the beginning of the century his clan ruled Manhattan with an iron fist. They pushed the queer and wrote the missives to the Italian businessmen who trembled in fear of the Black Hand. Anyone who objected was sent to the “murder stable” and made their way out in a barrel. Most of the time that did not even need to happen. He would just send his brother in law to speak to them. One gesture from Lupo the Wolf would be enough to turn their bowels to water. He would take off his fedora and ruffle the feather. Dust some imaginary lint off his white suit and smile. They would deliver. Not just from their trespasses. From their poverty. Anything to avoid the caress of the Black Hand.

Lupo was gone now. So was Tommaso the Ox. All of them. Dead or on the lam or in prison. His half-brothers as well. The only one left was the stunad Ciro. He was another of these young punks like Luciano and Anastasia. He had a hand in their liquor business with Castiglia and all the rest. Not someone to rely on when the trouble comes. And trouble always comes. 

“So Don Guiseppi the Boss sent us to pick up the escarole” said the jovial Scalise. He was the jokester. The clown. Anastasia was the quiet one. More the surly one. He glowered in the corner with his hat in his hand. Which was a surprise in itself. He never went anywhere with his hat in his hand. Unless he was hiding a gun.

“I did not hear from him Francesco. Usually I send Joseph downtown. So you can understand why I might ask a question.”

“Why don’t you call him if you think we are lying to you” growled Anastasia. Some people go through life looking for a fight. It was a measure of how far he had fallen that these young punks would dare to speak to his this way. A humiliation. Just another one of many that he had to endure these days.

“This is not business that should be done over the phone. You should know this my friend. I have no problem giving you the cash. I know your word is good. I know you would not disrespect me or Don Masseria by doing anything that you would regret. Joseph gather up the cash and put it in the bag from the pears.”

“Thank you Don Morello. I am sorry to disturb you. But I need to do what I am told.”

 “Yes as we all do. As we all must do.”