My Mother's Boyfriend

Warfarin

Liverpool Underworld

Aldo Conti

“Tony, we got a problem. The Feds are closing in on our operation. They're sniffing around the docks.” By Feds, he means The Royal Air Force. The United Kingdom is not federal and does not have an FBI, but people do use the nickname for them. Like Vito here.

Sleepy-eyed, I listen to the phone call that my sh*t mother’s brother has on speaker. Sh*t because he left me and my sister homeless rather than take us into his home. When I met up with him some years back, his sorry excuse was the feds were after him, so he fled the country and settled here in Liverpool.

He could have taken us with him.

But I didn’t say it. My sister is away from all this and that is the only comfort here. My gullible uncle thinks I have forgiven all, but no. I believe in keeping my enemies closer, and I let him think ‘blood is thicker than water’, which is one of his favourite sayings.

Little does he know that I am a walking warfarin.

Currently, I am in his warehouse where he dwells, as well in a room situated at the back, he informed me. The air was thick with neglect and mildew permeated every corner. A home that suited my uncle. Vito is scum and feels offended that I do not refer to him as uncle. A drug extortionist who coerces others into paying him money to provide them with protection. The protection is from him.

Since my last visit almost a year ago, he has increased his influence a bit. He bought himself a plane, he'd bragged over the phone and to see it for myself, I flew over. What am I to do, huh? He’s the only family I’ve got remaining.

He boasted that he had some money that he received from dropping off some ‘goods’ to one of the local mafias there. Seeing is believing. He did buy a plane, a banged-up private one but still operational, especially for the reason he had bought it for.

Back in the day, he used to own a private company, that provided the service of charter flights for individuals seeking private air travel, but it was seized by the DEA.

Tony, who is at the other end of the speakerphone, says, “What do you need, boss?” He is the actual brains and brawl behind my uncle. My uncle is just the mouthpiece. The bragger behind the partnership between the two. Tony is a handsome fellow big build and a body that wrestlers would carry. His nose showed it had been broken at some point and a scar down his eyebrow and upper cheek. While his eye wasn’t damaged, his eyelid was a bit scary with a piece of the lid missing, before he had plastic surgery.

He must have admired his other scars because he had not bothered to smoothen out those. Trust me, money was not the issue here. Anyway, he had a typical handsome but hardcore appearance with his thin eyebrows and moustache.

Hmm, with the way I had an eye for detail, many think I am attracted to the same s*x. In a way I am, I guess, but I prefer p*ssy. Prefer being the keyword here.

Anyhow, I often wonder if Tony knows that he does not need my uncle to thrive in this business. I guess he must consider my so-called uncle, to remain faithful to his command and directions.

Vito frowns deeply as he takes a drag from the cheap cigarette. “We need to clean up. Loose ends, witnesses, everything. Capiche?”

Tony took a pregnant pause then, “What about Joey?”

Vito stares at me. “Joey's been talking. Handle it, quietly. Make it look like an accident.” Ah, my dear uncle is a murderer. I get that is part of the profession, but taking a life is not in my field. There are many ways to avoid it.

Tony’s baritone voice came in slowly and somewhat away from the mouthpiece. It’s as if he had turned around to ensure nobody was around him to hear. “Consider it done. And the shipment from Palermo?”

Vito takes a double pull of the cigarette and scratches his forehead with his thumb. “Move it tonight.” The smoke escapes from his mouth with his words. “Take the back route. Make sure it’s smooth. No mistakes.”

“Got it, boss. Ah, anything else?”

His eyes are on me again, I can feel it as I walk around the dusty warehouse. Cracked windows on the upper part and the only source of light coming in from what I could make out. Cobweb draped the rafters. While an abandoned rusted single machine lay at the back, the only decoration in this place. That and the plane that was inside as well. “Yeah, the cops have been watching Luigi's place. Keep our guys away from there for a while.”

“Will do. What about the new guy, Vinnie? Can we trust him?”

Vinnie, I suppose, drove the car ahead of mine to bring me here to my uncle’s ‘new’ place. Before this, he had taken up residence with a lady who seemed to compliment him- not really. They both seemed like scum so well-matched for each other.

I had asked him about Shelly, and he just made a ‘bhah’ sound. I was to interpret it as whatever it is, it is.

“Keep him close, but don't let him in on everything just yet.” He makes a grunting sound as he reaches across the table to pick up his beer. “We need to be sure.” He finishes it in one drink while he listens to Tony.

“I won't let you down, Don Vito.”

Don? I almost laughed out loud, but I held myself in check, just an eye twitch was the only indication of my inner thoughts. Vito finishes his cancer stick and searches his rickety desk for an astray, then puts out the butt.

The entire warehouse is like him- old and full of holes. A large industrial fan was on the far side and the only source of air circulation in this heated place, and I was tempted to run back into the air-conditioned car that I arrived in outside.

My uncle raises his hand and motions another one of his men forward while still talking to Tony. “Good. And Tony, remember, loyalty is everything. We can’t afford another slip.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Tony says, and I stand in front of my uncle now, both hands clasped together, in front of me, legs slightly parted, my rather expensive crocodile shoes dusty, which irritated me more. I am bored and done with exploring his abode.

My all-important big boss uncle ended with, “Alright. Now get to work. And Tony... be careful.”

“I got a guy who needs a hundred grand,” he deadpans, dropping the phone heavily on the old desk.

What in the actual- “Come again?” I heard him, I just couldn’t believe his words. I pull my white, expensive shirt off my sweaty skin, shaking it for air to enter and ease me a bit. The audacity my uncle has to think That I want to be part of his circle.

Maybe I should humour the pig.