Blood in the Golden Palace

Chapter 13: Angelo-1

Chapter 13: Angelo“Remember, do not say anything to antagonize them.”

“Yes, Pop.”

“We are in their territory. We are their guests.”

“Yes.”

“Even the slightest insult could end badly—”

“Yes, Pop, I know.”

Luciano leaned back in his seat, his thick arms folded across his barrel chest. “Do you? Do you actually? Because if Gio is to be believed, this is nothing more than a vacation to you and your new distraction.”

Angelo straightened up in his seat and glared at the rear view mirror, where Gio’s eyes calmly watched the road as he drove. “You’ve had Gio spy on me? Are you serious?”

“You cannot expect me to relax in Los Veteranos. We are surrounded by our enemies here.”

Angelo rubbed his eyes. “And that gives you the right to spy on my personal life how?” Luciano answered by flicking his son in the ear. Angelo flinched and rubbed it.

“Moccioso ingrato. Your life is my life. It is the family’s life.”

“Great. You wanna put that on a Christmas card?” Angelo returned to the rear view mirror. Gio had not made any noticeable change in his expression. “And how are we feeling about today, big guy? You excited to see your boyfriend or what?”

“I’m assuming you’re still implying that I’m in league with Alex Corsetti?”

“I wouldn’t be right about that, would I?”

“Enough of that,” Luciano snapped. “I will not have you insulting the most loyal man in our family.”

“Is it an insult if it’s true?” Angelo got a slap in the back of the head for all his trouble. They arrived at Aces High far too early for Angelo’s liking. Not that he wanted to spend an ungodly amount of time in the car with his father, but it was preferable to the alternative. Despite wanting to confront the Corsettis about their involvement with the DeRossis’ rat problem, Angelo couldn’t remember an interaction with the Corsettis that didn’t curdle his milk, so to speak. Parking at the valet station, Gio got out to open the door for Luciano. Angelo didn’t bother waiting his turn and stepped outside. There was a brisk chill that nipped at his heels, and he longed to return to his warm hotel room with Penny waiting for him in bed.

The three men walked into the lobby to find a handful of Corsetti men waiting for them at the reception desk. Angelo hung back as Luciano did most of the talking, which allowed his eyes to wander. Aces High was like any other shady hotel and casino. Threadbare carpets, tacky decor from the mid-20th century, rigged slots, rigged roulette wheels, and rigged card dealers. Angelo wouldn’t be surprised if half the drinks at the bar were fifty percent unleaded tapwater.

Once the introductions were over with, the DeRossis were escorted down a narrow hall and toward a gold plated elevator. One that was guarded by a not-at-all conspicuous bouncer with thick sunglasses. The seven men filed in, with Angelo uncomfortably nestled into the center of the sausage pie. The air was thick, and Angelo, never a fan of unmitigated silence, cleared his throat.

“Hope nobody has to rip one.”

Luciano glared at Angelo, while the Corsetti men glanced at each other, awkwardly. The elevator dinged, and they funneled out into the top floor of the casino. Luciano, his bad mood amplified, stomped off ahead of the other two in his party. Gio, who kept with Angelo’s pace, shook his head.

“Someday that mouth is going to get you killed,” he remarked.

“Yeah?” Angelo turned to Gio. “Who’s gonna pull that trigger? You?” They kept up with each other as the Corsettis escorted them down another winding hallway toward a conference room.

“When you realize that I’m not the devil you think I am,” said Gio, “I hope you know I won’t hold it against you.”

“How f*****g gracious.”

“Angelo.” Luciano’s hiss stopped them both in their tracks. They were all standing outside a pair of double doors, which lead into a separate room, obscured by frosted windows. The only details Angelo could make out were a long table and a few figures seated at the head. One of the Corsetti men knocked, and the group waited.

“Come in,” came a voice. The doors opened, and Luciano, Gio, and Angelo headed inside to take their seats at the end of the table. Sitting across from all three of them was none other than Alex Corsetti and his father, Don Aldo Corsetti. Don Aldo was younger than Luciano, and was far more taken with the lavish lifestyle crime afforded than Angelo’s father. His gaudy suits were the latest fashions, and Angelo had never seen him without his weight equivalent in gold jewelry. The one merit Angelo would grant him was the ring that sat on a fine chain around his neck. It was no secret that Alex’s mother passed at a young age, so any sign to honor her was at least noble. Aldo’s fat hands smoothed back his brown colored hair (most likely a piece) and he gestured at one of the standing men leisurely. Most of them funneled out, though the two biggest stayed behind, each of them with pieces in plain sight as a warning against any and all funny business.

“So.” Aldo’s voice was gravelly, in that way that only East Coast Italians could be. “Here we all are. How long has it been, Lucy? Ten? Twenty years?”

“Fourteen,” Gio said diligently.

Aldo held up a sausage finger. “Brought your man with you. Very nice, very nice.” Aldo snapped at the men behind him, one of whom produced a cigar on command. The second man lit it, and Aldo took a deep drag. “So what’s this I hear about a rat problem? Alex says that while he was in town, your boy there was crawling out of his skin, throwing around accusations left and right.”

Luciano glared at Angelo from the corner of his eye but pressed on. “We are all under much stress,” Luciano argued. “I trust, Don Aldo, that you know nothing of our problems, yes?”

Aldo leaned back in his chair, his many rings glittering under the incandescents. “I hear whispers,” he admitted. “But if you’re here to accuse me of something more sinister…” He clicked his tongue and bit the end of the cigar with his teeth. “I gotta say, I’m hurt, Don Luciano. Real hurt.”

Angelo could hold his tongue no longer. “Funny, Alex seemed to know plenty when the news broke the night our warehouse got raided.”

“Did he?” Aldo asked.

“Made a big to-do about it while he was in town.” Angelo snapped his eyes to Alex, who stayed stone-faced. “You do know that your son visited the Golden Palace recently, right? Smack dab in the middle of DeRossi territory.”

Aldo hesitated. His eyes shifted to Alex, whose fat face was twisting as he bit back his tongue. “That true?” Alex sniffed sharply, and Angelo wondered how much powder had gone in that nose in the last twenty four hours.

“So what if I did?” Alex said casually. “Last I checked, the Golden Palace is still a business, ain’t it? My money’s as good as any customer’s. As a matter of fact, Angelo’s the one who had me thrown out.”

Aldo slammed his hand flat on the table, forcing Alex to clam up immediately. Aldo glared at his son, white knuckling the end of his cigar. “You stupid, pig-headed little prick. Years of bloodshed on the line because you felt like hitting up a goddamn night club. Are you trying to f*****g embarrass me? Huh?!” Alex ground his jaw and stared at his lap. It was never a comfortable sight to watch a grown man dressed down by his father, but no one was in a position to intervene.

“No, Dad,” Alex finally said.

Aldo rounded to Luciano and laid his hand on his heart. “You have our apologies, Don Luciano. Alex won’t step out of line again.” Aldo gnashed his teeth against the cigar paper, scowling at his son from the side. “I’ll make sure of it.”

But Luciano held up his hand. “We didn’t come here to risk our agreement,” he said. “Our boys are both impulsive. More than anything, I think it would be wise to continue to set an example for them.”

Aldo smirked, ashing his cigar. “Always a level head on your shoulders, DeRossi. I couldn’t agree more.” Luciano nodded. “So then, if you didn’t come here to smack Alexander on the wrist, why are you in Los Vet this evening?”

Angelo answered before his father could. “I want to know how Alex knew about the warehouse raid on the night it happened.” Luciano whipped around to Angelo, but Angelo deflected before his father could reprimand him. “It’s a good question, Pop. Most of our guys didn’t even know about it the night of. I want to know why someone from outside the family had this information.” Despite not wanting to stir the pot, Luciano conceded.

“It is suspicious,” Luciano agreed. “Please understand, Don Aldo, we are not accusing your son of any involvement. But if we knew how he knew, it may help us narrow down the leak in our business.”

Aldo shrugged. “A very reasonable request.” He turned to Alex. “Well? How’d you know about the raid?”

Alex and Angelo shot daggers at one another from across the table. Angelo wondered what kind of bullshit Alex would come up with to worm his way out of this corner. Unfortunately for Angelo, he wasn’t a complete moron. Alex smiled, keeping his eyes locked onto Angelo’s.

“Heard it through one of the cops we got in pocket,” he said simply. “I’ve been keeping my eye on things from afar, so that if the golden boy f***s up, me and mine have something to laugh about over drinks.”

“That’s a goddamn lie!” Angelo shouted, banging the table.

“Angelo!” Luciano barked.

Angelo shook his finger in Alex’s direction, whose s**t eating grin only added fuel to the fire. “You’re the one working with the f*****g rat, I know you are!”

“Yeah?! Well if you know so much, why don’t you f*****g prove it?”

“Come over here and I’ll beat it out of you, you greasy f**k!”

“Bet you’d be all about that, wouldn’t you, fag?!”

“I’ll knock your goddamn teeth in!”

“That’s enough!” Luciano rose to his feet, putting the kibosh on their back and forth. “Lo stupido! You are both so ready to risk everything your families have worked for for the sake of la superbia! Your godforsaken pride!” The Don’s outburst settled the room, but for how long was anyone’s guess. Luciano sat back down, steaming. Aldo, who had remained calm, tapped his cigar against his ash tray.

“You have a very passionate son,” he remarked. “You’ll make some tough babies, boy, when you finally marry my niece.”

Angelo soured, but kept his face stoic. “Thank you, Don Corsetti.”

Aldo grunted. Finishing his cigar, he pushed the ash tray aside and folded his hands over his stomach. “I can personally guarantee that Alex isn’t involved in any rat scheme undermining your family.”

This time, it wasn’t either of the DeRossi boys, but Gio, who spoke next. “Forgive us, Don Corsetti, but how can we be assured that this is the case?” Angelo did his best not to scoff in Gio’s direction.

“Because,” said Aldo, “if he is, I’ll put a stop to it myself.”

The door swung open, causing every man to turn at once. Pinkerton, winded and sweaty, clutched his briefcase and straightened out his glasses. “Sorry I’m late, gentlemen.” He took his seat next to Angelo on Luciano’s left hand side. Aldo and his men looked Pinkerton up and down, skeptically.

“Who the hell is this?” Aldo asked.

“Ah. Sorry, let me introduce myself. My name is Elroy Pinkerton. I’m Mr. DeRossi’s attorney.”

“His attorney?” Aldo turned to Luciano. “Since when did you get so cushy, Lucy?”

“This is not like the old days, Aldo,” said Luciano simply. “Mr. Pinkerton has been essential to keeping our business flowing. He has been indispensable. I’ve invited him here to be involved in mediation, in case it came to that. But, as you’ve promised us that your son is not involved in our business, I see that there is no need. We will simply have to face the courts on our own.”

“About that,” Pinkerton piped up. “I got a call right as I arrived. Which was why I was late.” His eyes flicked toward Angelo, and he continued. “It seems as though the warrant used in the raid was not a legal one,” he said. “The detectives behind the case against us made several fatal missteps, and while I can’t promise we will get every piece of stolen property back, for the time being, sir, we are free and clear of the charges.” Pinkerton turned to Angelo directly. “From what I can gather…a few key documents were never filed.”