"You can get much further with a kind word and a gun than you can with a kind word alone."
— Al Capone
The man sat sternly listening to the wind whisper hatred comments outdoors. The man did not pay attention to the wind. The wind called for him but the man gave no answer, He had paper work. And by paper work he meant he had to illegally sort drugs from the last dealer (from the Camorra Syndicate) that had managed to wrangle. And by wrangle, He meant shoot through the skull four times. Each time was a another shot, another waste of bullets. Another stain on his flapper jacket, Another loose thread on his fedora. And any piece that was loose was a piece that could be found by others. That was the one thing the man hated about his business. If you screwed up you were done... Just utterly done. He fiddled with the pistol sitting on his desk, He had to get his mind back to the paper work. The paper work was the most important thing as of now. Other than that, the man had to deal with a little insolent prick of an Agent the U.S.A. had sent in.
Pain in the ass.
The man shuffled his fingers through his hair, as he smoothed down his fingers on the pen he gripped his pistol harder. He had long ditched fiddling with his hair, well no not really. It wasn't that long. About a couple of seconds, He had dropped his hand to grab the pistol. He couldn't stop thinking about the damn agent. It was all he could think about, he didn't even know what the agent looked like. It made it even harder, for him. He would have to kill "it" off before it could to him. He stripped his pin striped flapper jacket, The gold ring on his finger was scraping his calloused skin off of his hands. The man regretted having such long fingers, Unlike his brother he had elegant long piano fingers. They made it harder to shoot and the fact that it made him look "feminine". As much as he could. The man realized he hadn't looked at his dishevelled appearance since the crossfire his men had run into only a couple of days ago.
He wasn't living up to his usual standards, As pristine as he tried to keep himself sometimes it wasn't worth it. The aggravation just made it worse. The man looked at his ring, The signature Curl on it. A funny joke that had started since the beginning of the business. A little inheritance that "Lucky" Luciano had left the rest of the damned wolves. The man had started the "business" as a rebellion in Sicily. Now it was much more than that, that was in the 1880s. Now it was 1920s, and It was a new era. The man couldn't understand how he had inherited the Villa and his title and his Curl but he did. As well as the business. The man was quietly going insane. Sitting in his chair fiddling with a pistol, going insane. It was a smart combination. Weapon and a sociopath. He was working on his paper work,
Sold too: Lovino "Romano" Vargas
Address: 3647 Cantataia LN.
rocca-delle-tre
248765
Ship To: Lovino "Romano" Vargas
Address: 3647 Cantataia LN.
rocca-delle-tre
248765
Customer's No: 2345 Item No: 546 Date: 5 - 14 - 1924
Packed by: Cammoria Packages Ordered by: Cammoria sales
The man named Lovino "Romano" Vargas, finally finished his paperwork. He shoved the stack of paper to the ancient lamination machine beside him. Slipping his jacket back on, Lovino buttoned the nubs and slipped his pistol into the brief pocket. He waked down through the villa, It had a square shape. The original white-washed brick was preserved to keep the family memory alive. The man turned down the first step of stars, his dress shoes clicking against the though clean granite flooring. Descending down to the third floor, then to the second. Ignoring the men that stood with guns, Holding them like the british military he scampered away. Holding out till he got to the first floor, The business man walked out on the elegant out looking deck. It carried a different flooring. It was crafted from darkly stained oak wood and custom fairy twisted metal worked balcony bars. The man laughed to himself, He couldn't even imagine being the one to name the set of bars that had been set up on his deck.
The man strided softly over to a chair in the eight seating white table. Only two people ever sat at that table at a time, First The man's parents and then The man and his brother. Not that they took shifts, it's just no one had survived that long to see a third seat used (minus business meetings). A waiter came a delivered a small salad to the man, Delicate dressing adorned the salad. The man only later realized the waiter was speaking too him in his native language.
"The fine wine choice for tonight is a delicate, soft grapes Brunello Sir." The waiter stated.
Lovino grunted in response to the waiter, as he allowed the lower class man to pour the fine wine into the cup. It was expensive wine, the most expensive in Italy. It was for an occasion. The waiter was waiting for the man to dismiss him.
"Waiter." Lovino grunted out.
"How may I be off assistance?" The waiter asked the man.
"Has Feliciano arrived at the villa yet?" The man sounded pressing the crystal wine glass to his soft italian sculpted lips.
"Last I was informed he was on his way, sir. Shall I go ask the door keeper?" The waiter pondered aloud to the man.
"Yes. Now go." Lovino spoke out through his wine glass.
The waiter spun on his heel. Turning holding the salad platter, Only the salad platter. He had left the fine wine for Lovino to take as much as he wanted. Lovino was a quickly aggravated man, You had to watch your step. Failure was not tolerated. The waiter scooted through the custom carved doorway of the deck and into the house. Passing the elegant hallways he scooted into a subdivided part of the house. The kitchen, It was large and beautiful. Not as beautiful as Lovino's kitchen. If Lovino wanted to cook he had his own, Not that the lazy bastard ever did. Mr. Vargas was always busy polishing old roman swords or playing hunter with guns. Literally. The man stopped in front of a chef.
"Dorris is Feliciano here yet?"
"I have no idea, go ask Michael. He keeps the doors... Oh did Vargas like the wine choice?"
"thank, Yes I believe he did like it. I believe so at least."
"Close enough, now go!"
Lovino sat tapping a fork around the salad plate, He wasn't hungry. It was like that childish hunger that made you refuse to eat until you got something. What Lovino was waiting for was taking to long, he was about to break. Not by the fact that he was late, but by the fact that Feliciano was a whole day late. He stopped and looked up.
"Sir, Feliciano has arrived."
"Good good, that's fine. go." Lovino grunted at the man.
"Of course" the waiter bowed gently and turned around to leave, just in time to hold the door to the deck open for Feliciano.
"Brother" The older man stood and shook hands with his younger counter part.
"Hello, Lovino" Feliciano responded, his feathery attire when they were younger had worn off more than Lovino had expected. "So I heard a certain Agent was tracking You"
"You heard correct. Wine?" Lovino asked pointed toward the drink the waiter had passed out to them.
"Yes I would love some-Oooh is that what I think it is?" Feliciano asked howling at the wine choice.
"I thought it would be a nice occasion for your favorite, Brunello." Lovino responded passing the glass bottle to his sibling. "By the way what do you mean by certain Agent." The man asked accepting a certain word to point it out to his brethren.
"Nothing really, All I heard was that you were... 'close' to them". Feliciano choked out the last sentence. Adding a hint of masculine laughter to the end. "Not sure where they got that idea." Feliciano looked at Lovino's face pulled into a look of content confusion.
"I was wondering the same thing" Lovino mumbled under the breath of the wine.
"So why really am I here Lovino, I don't quite remember this date being important." Feliciano asked trying to get to the point. Instead of screwing around like two American Bitches.
"It's really not something from our past Fel, It's just because we hit a big druggist from Camorra" Lovino said proud of his accomplishment, Feliciano seemed to be too arching to lighter russet brows. "I think with our current luck, this little Agent of ours should be fine" Lovino with a cocky response Swishing his glass of wine as a waiter brought out the second course. Screw the salad, That's alright he reassured himself, the second is always better than the first. Or for food at least.