Rated M

Disclaimer – Not mine, I just make them do bad, bad things.
Much love and thanks to my beta-love, Carrie ZM
and to my pre-readers, Planetblue and Robsmyyummy Cabanaboy
for all the time and energy they've put into this fic.
Also, massive thanks to LaMomo for all the Italian translations.

Wednesday, March 14, 1956
11:24 PM

"Mr. Cullen?" Slick snaps his fingers in my face, jarring me from my thoughts.

"Sorry about that." I flick Diego's picture. "I can't help you, fellas."

"Of course you can't," Glasses says, folding his hands in front of him. "Our records indicate that you spent some time in Cuba prior to your return to Chicago in 1954. Is that correct?"

I give a curt nod.

"What were you doing down there?"

"Just visiting."

"Visiting, huh?" Slick sneers.

"What can I say, Slick? I love cigars and girls in swimsuits."

"Yeah, I'm sure you do, you—"

"So what made you decide to come home?" Glasses interrupts, holding his hand out to his partner, essentially telling him to 'cool it.'

I shrug. "My cousin was getting married so I figured why not."

July 1954

Three hours after the rehearsal dinner, the guys and I are in the back room of a club on Rush with a handful of blondes in various states of undress.

"Look at this one," Emmett says, pointing to Paulie who's got a set of tits in his face and another broad's hand down his pants. "Fuckin' skirt chaser over there."

"How 'bout your driver?" I tip my drink in Big Ben's direction. "Looks like he's never seen a pussy up close."

Em laughs. "He's earned it though." He slides forward in his seat and yells at his driver who's getting straddled on the couch across from us. "You earned it, Benny boy. Guardin' that car all night." That porky prick glares at me which makes Emmett laugh even harder. "C'mon, don't be like that, big guy."

"Can I get you boys anything?" A tall blonde wearing tassels and a smile asks, bending down so her cans are level with Em's eyes.

"Yeah, sweetheart. How about you run and fetch us a bottle of scotch?"

She makes a show of pressing her tits together. "Anything else, Mr. Cullen?"

He hands her a bill and waves her off, briefly watching her ass sway before turning back to me. "So how was Havana, huh?"

"Eh, it was okay. I didn't mind bein' out there." I light a smoke and lean back in my seat. "Why? You lookin' to get into the game down there?"

Shaking his head, he mimics my position. "Nah, just curious how the past four years were for you."

I take a deep pull. "It was fine, I guess. I laid low for a while, then your dad sent me to see Momo."

"How was that?"

"I learned a lot. Momo had me doin' collections and running a few floating craps and some high limit poker games. Met a few associates here and there. All in all, I can't complain."

Tassels brings the scotch and makes herself scarce again when Em stands abruptly. "Follow me."

"Where we headed?"

"Somewhere without ears."

He leads me to a roof access door and we climb the stairs until we're four stories above Rush Street, looking out at the city. Em unscrews the cap and tosses it over the side of the building before taking a huge swig. "There are big changes comin' for us, Eddie."

"Yeah?"

He points to the skyline. "All this is gonna be ours."

I say nothing, letting him go on with the crazy talk.

"And it's all because of you." He comes towards me and grabs the back of my neck. "You ballsy motherfucker, you." Pulling me close, he lowers his voice, "I know what you did."

"You do?"

Em nods. "Dad said you did the hit. I mean, he didn't go into detail, but you know."

"Yeah, well …" I trail off and snuff out my cig as memories from the night I put two slugs in that bastard's skull flood my mind. "It had to be done."

"It was fuckin' brilliant," Em muses, offering the bottle to me. "You weren't even an associate at the time."

"Nope," I say with a laugh, thinking about how I was just some spoiled prick barely out of college. "That's probably why no one suspected."

"No one did." He steps close to the ledge. "It made sense at the time when my dad said he got you out of here for your safety. He told the rest of the crew that you left for school then went to help him with his interests in Havana."

"Ma said he sent her and Es to the ol' country for a while."

"Yep." He looks out over the street. "This place went up for grabs, Eddie. Paulie and Felix had a goddamn field day. Made real names for themselves."

"I'll bet they did."

We're quiet for a bit, staring out into the city listening to the trains and sirens in the distance and the bustling traffic coming from the street below.

"Did you want to be the one who did it?"

"Yeah, I think so. I don't know. It was so fucked up, man," I say before striking a match and lighting another cigarette. "We were down at the morgue, ID'ing the body. My ma was goin' wild, just losin' it. But Uncle C, man, he was just…" I'm at a loss for words letting the smoke billow out of my mouth. "Next thing I know, your dad's pulling me into an office, saying they've got the guy who did it, and offering me the opportunity to handle it."

Em nods, knowing that my father never wanted me to end up in the family business. "So you stepped up?"

"Yeah." I hold up two fingers. "Your dad made two phone calls from the coroner's office. The first was to Philly to confirm who pulled the trigger."

"And the second?"

My lips curl into a sick smile. "The second person he called was Chopper."

"Chopper? Old man Aro?"

"Yep." I take another drag. "The night of the wake, we left the funeral home, met up with Chopper at the back of the Yards."

"No shit?"

"No shit, man. Chopper had that greasy fuck hogtied on the slaughterhouse floor. Your dad handed me a .22, I pulled the trigger and that was that." I shrug, feeling no remorse for my actions. No regret. No nothing.

"Sounds like a pretty standard hit. I heard some wild shit though."

Laughing, I lean forward and reach for the bottle, knowing exactly what wild shit he's talking about. "That's where your dad and Chopper come in."

Thinking back to that night, I remember Chopper standing over the body in a rubber apron with the sounds of cattle waiting for the slaughter all around us. It's funny now, but I can still see them casually discussing the pros and cons of just disposing of the body versus sending a message to those in the guy's crew.

"It would've been so easy to throw that guy in a barrel and toss him into Lake Michigan, but your dad was out of his mind. In control, but you know, kinda wacko, right? So anyway, Chopper goes to his car, comes back with this bag and he pulls out all this equipment. And your dad's pointin' to body parts, tellin' him who and where he should send each to." Em's eyes get big. "So Chopper gets to choppin', right? And just as we go to leave, he stops us."

"What for?"

"This guy, with a straight-fucking-face mind you, asks Uncle C..." I laugh, recalling Chopper's question. "He goes, 'hey, which part you want me to send to his missus – balls, heart, or head?' Your dad let him choose."

"That's messed up."

"It was. But what's more fucked up is that I still wanna know which part he sent her."

Em spends the next few hours filling in the gaps, telling me all about what went down while I was gone all those years. We empty the bottle going back and forth as I listen to who killed who, who heads up what now and a coded rundown of who's who in the family.

"The books are probably gonna be openin' up soon," Em says, looking at me to gauge my reaction at hearing that the family will be bringing in new members.

I don't comment since I'm probably not eligible because I haven't made my bones yet. At least none that anyone can know about. Instead I redirect. "What's the story with blondie, huh? How'd you two meet?"

"It was an odd coincidence, actually. Her father's some big wig at the Board of Trade and her uncle is an alderman up in the 49th ward. My old man's been rubbing elbows with her family for years. Anyway, last year dad's lung was actin' up so I escorted my ma' to some charity function at the opera house. Rose's father introduced us, and we've been together ever since."

"Does she know about …" I wind my fingers around never saying this thing of ours aloud.

Nodding his head, he takes a big gulp, swallowing loudly. "She knows enough not to ask, but don't let the blonde hair and blue eyes fool you. She's a fuckin' shark. Doesn't take any shit."

"You would end up with a man-eater."

Squinting, he lights up a cigar, and then grabs his dick. "I've got somethin' for her to eat."

The next night, my uncle is leading me around Em's wedding reception at The Drake, re-introducing me to a bunch of my father's old associates.

"Here we go," Carlisle says, waving his hand over a table of old timers. "You remember these wise guys, don't ya'?" He doesn't let me answer, clapping Philly Neri on the back. "Philly, you remember Edward, right?"

"Of course," that skinny bastard booms, coming at me with his arms wide open like we're old pals. "Long time, kiddo. How you been?"

Fuck you. "I'm all right, Philly."

"And this handsome fucker here," Carlisle pats the face of the guy to his right, "this is Philly's son, Mikey Neri."

He gives me a nod and a shake. Em says they call this cat 'Handsome Mike' or something. Paulie and Felix hate him, and Em says he's a bit of a prick, but he's a hell of an earner so that gets him a pass, I suppose.

I don't know. I just don't like the look of him. And I hate his old man, so that's strike two.

The introductions come faster now and I'm thankful for all the nicknames to keep them straight. There's Joey "Nickels" because his face looks like it got beat with a bag of them. Then we have Sammy "Teets" Uley because he's got a bit of a rack on him. And finally, there's Frankie 'Big Features' because he barely has enough room for a face with the size of that nose.

"So Eddie, what's it been? Four? Five years, now?" Philly asks jerking his chin in my direction.

I've got a 'go fuck yourself' on the tip of my tongue, but before I can open my mouth, his kid's asking me where I've been, and what I've been up to.

My uncle is quick to answer for me with the canned story Em told me last night. "He went and got his masters down at Georgetown before heading down to oversee my gaming interests in Havana."

"Georgetown, huh?" Philly asks, sounding a little too suspicious for my liking.

The corner of my mouth turns up, but Carlisle cuts in again. "You know how Ed was real big on this one's education."

"Of course," Philly says. "Your old man was always braggin' on ya' bein' a smart one."

"Real proud," my uncle agrees. "All right boys, we're gonna go grab a couple of drinks, then I've gotta get a dance in with my new daughter-in-law."

I bow my head to the table. "Gentlemen."

When we get to the bar I give Carlisle a look as he orders up a round of shots. "Georgetown?"

He waves me off. "I've got Jay Jenks on it, gettin' you the documentation and payin' the right people to vouch for you. And besides, your dad always liked the idea of you in Washington."

I laugh. "Dad also liked the idea of me playing short-stop for the Cubs, doesn't make it plausible."

My uncle shrugs. "Come Monday you'll see why it's plausible."

"What's Monday?"

"Imma send Sal over to pick you up on Monday morning, eight o'clock sharp. He'll bring you out to my place, we'll have breakfast with your aunt, and then I have some … opportunities I'd like to discuss with you."

"Opportunities?"

Nodding, he coughs into his handkerchief before stuffing it back in his pocket and picking up his shot glass.

I raise mine too, and toast his health. "Alla tua salute."

We shoot our drinks which brings on another coughing fit.

"Damn that burns," he says, holding his chest. Behind him, I notice Bella sitting at her table, watching couples sway on the dance floor. Carlisle follows my eyes and gives me a smirk.

"Looks like you've gotta get a dance in too, huh?"

I pat him on the back. "Thanks for the drink."

"Don't forget, eight sharp."

"I won't."

Bella spots me as I cross the floor, a smile playing at her lips.

"There you are," I say, making my way around her table.

"Here I am." Straightening in her seat, she takes a sip of her water.

"Can I sit down?"

She pats the chair next to her. "Be my guest."

"I would've been over sooner, but my uncle wanted to reacquaint me with some folks."

"I saw that. You were all over the place, shaking hands, kissing babies." I snicker and watch her hold back a laugh by dabbing the corners of her mouth with a napkin. "So … are you trying to escape your matchmakers again?"

"No, my main matchmaker is otherwise occupied at the moment," I say, pointing to my mother who is being twirled around the dance floor by Chopper … Aro, whatever. "What about you? Your date getting you a piece of cake or something?"

"Ha! If I had a date, I definitely wouldn't be sitting here admiring the centerpieces," she says, winding a loose piece of hair behind her ear.

She looks beautiful sitting there all dolled up with her hair pinned and off her shoulders and face. Big brown eyes gaze back at me and I half expect her to call me on my ogling, but she doesn't. Instead she just runs her teeth over her red-stained lips and grins knowingly.

"I suppose that's true," I finally say, pulling my eyes away before they go any lower.

We sit and bullshit for a bit, talking about random things like the ceremony and how she and Rosalie go all the way back to grammar school. I start to wonder if I'm swimming with a shark myself.

Humming softly, she moves to the music, mouthing the lyrics to the song every now and again. When she catches me staring again, she doesn't blush or seem embarrassed.

"You like this song?"

"I do."

I'm not familiar with the song, and truthfully if it doesn't involve the mambo or the conga, I probably don't know it. I offer her my hand. "Dance with me?"

Placing her napkin on the table, she smiles brightly. "I thought you'd never ask."

I lead her to the middle of the floor, ignoring the prying eyes of my mother and ball-breaking gesture from Paulie. As I go to place my hand on her waist, I remember Father Francis always coming around at school dances, telling us to leave room for the Holy Ghost. Not today, Father Francis, not today.

She doesn't seem to mind when I pull her close, resting her hand on my shoulder, nearly cupping my neck while her other hand slips softly into mine, tightly entwining our fingers together.

"So …" I start, smirking down at her and she smirks right back.

"So … you said your uncle was reacquainting you with some old friends. Have you been away?"

I chuckle, albeit a little uncomfortably. "Somethin' like that."

"How long have you been gone?"

"Four years or so."

She whistles low. "That's an awful long time."

Hoping she doesn't question me further, I open my mouth to speak but she blurts out the question I wished she wouldn't.

"Where have you been?"

"Here and there."

"Here and there, huh? What is it you do exactly?"

My eyes narrow. "You writin' a book or somethin'? What's with all the questions?"

"It's just a question."

"Feels more like an interrogation."

"Well, how else am I supposed to get to know you?" she asks, her brow lifting slightly in challenge.

"How about a date?"

"A date …" Somehow the way she says it makes it sound like both a question and a statement.

"Yeah. Lemme take you out."

"You want to take me out, but you can't give me a straight answer when I ask you a question?"

"Stop being so childish, what are you, ten?"

"No, I'm twenty. See how that works, you ask, I answer, though I have to say it's rude to ask a lady her age." We stop swaying. "So let's try this again, I'll ask you a question, you answer. How old are you?"

"Twenty-six."

"See, not so hard, is it?"

"Not really, I just don't get why we have to play the twenty questions game."

She shrugs and we begin to move again. "I don't know, I guess I'm trying to get a better sense of you with the little bits and pieces you've given me thus far."

"Bits and pieces," I scoff, though I know I haven't been terribly forthcoming. The truth is I have no idea what to tell her. Right now I'm a grown man, crashing at my mom's place with a single job prospect that probably isn't on the up and up. I highly doubt she'll be too impressed with my resume from Cuba either.

"Bits and pieces," she says before clarifying, "little bits here, little bits there. It just seems like there's a lot you don't want me to know."

"Listen," I say, sounding like a bit of a dick. "I wanna take you out, but I'm not interested in having you break my balls."

"Good," she bites back, "because I assure you, I'm not interested in your balls."

We glare at each other for a few moments as the song ends and the band strikes up a faster number. There's no sign of surrender on her face which both fascinates and infuriates me, so I bring her hand to my lips.

"Thank you for the dance." She looks stunned when I take a few steps back. "Your move now, Bitsy. Come find me if you want to take me up on my offer."

A/N: So great to see so many familiar names pop up in my inbox. You guys make this so much fun!

Thanks so much for all the great WIP recs! Sounds like there are lots of good ones out there. I took a look at one that's a New Moon twist and by twist I mean it's Rosalie POV. Fun fact - Rosalie is my boo for real - hands down my fave character of the Twilight Saga #teamrose4life. If you haven't already, give this one a go and let it WIP.

What Have We Done by ladylibre - Fed up with her family's mourning since leaving Bella behind, Rosalie returns to Forks to prove that the stupid human is just fine without them. But what she finds is not what she expected. And that will not do. **A canon-based, drabblish AU New Moon fic.

See you guys Thursday! Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, followed, fav'd, rec'd or lurked this fic!