Blood in the Golden Palace

Chapter 3: Angelo-2

“I think so,” said Angelo. “Frankie can finish the count on his own.”

“Sure thing.”

“Whoa…” Momentarily stalled, Angelo turned to see Sam stare at him, wide eyed and gaping. It was the first time in twenty minutes he looked up from his phone. “Yo, did you like…kill two of my uncle’s dudes?” Frankie, frazzled and huffing, walked up to Sam’s side and immediately tugged him away.

“You little s**t, don’t bother him!” His face was so slick with sweat, some of that copper toner was starting to melt. With a pained smile, Frankie addressed Angelo. “I apologize for my boys, Angelo. I’m sure whatever they did is inexcusable—”

“It’s settled now, Frankie. But if you don’t mind, I’m gonna hit the road.” As he spoke, his phone buzzed and he checked it.

potential rat found 2350 sycamore w. end

“Looks like I still got a busy day ahead of me.”

Frankie laughed, desperately. “Listen, I hope this little mishap doesn’t taint my reputation with your father. As I said, he really is my best customer, and I’d hate for a couple of fuckin’ chuckle-heads to get in the way of years’ worth of report.”

Angelo pocketed his phone. “Relax, Frankie. I know you’re not the one telling everybody I’m some kind of dirty gypsy dumpster kid, right?” Frankie’s face paled, and he forced his smile to stay frozen. Angelo slid on a pair of sunglasses as Hank held open the door to the car. “Then you got nothing to worry about. I’ll be seeing you, Frankie.”

“S-sure, Angelo. Sure.”

As the car left the bay, Angelo watched the haunted visage of Frankie the Wise remain locked in place at the door of the warehouse before they turned a corner and drove further into the city.

* * * *

Angelo didn’t often travel to the west end. As far as comfortable crime zones went, it was just a little too suburban for his tastes. A lot of families with small kids, retirees refusing to move out of state, and plenty of broke college hipsters. Not exactly the place for drug deals and shakedowns to go unnoticed. However, he’d be remiss if he didn’t acknowledge what hiding in plain sight could do for certain branches of his family. Watching the buildings pass through traffic, Angelo let his mind wander. It had drifted, for the third time that day, to the girl the night before.

What was her name? Penny? That sounded right. It wasn’t often someone that doe-eyed came through the front doors of the Palace. He recalled seeing her on the dance floor. You could spot how out of place she looked from a hundred yards. He recalled her tiny body in that silver dress. With how often Angelo saw her hug her arms, he was sure that it wasn’t her normal wardrobe. Of course, he hadn’t followed her and her date out to the pool deck on purpose. Angelo had been making his normal rounds before he realized that they had similar destinations. Seeing her in more natural light only drove home how lovely she was. She had no paint on her toes or her nails, Angelo recalled, and certainly did not look confident in those one inch heels. Perhaps it was because Angelo was so used to women who could run in stilettos that this Penny person stood out to him. And then, of course, there was their conversation in Angelo’s office. How desperate she was to revoke her own boundaries for the sake of the pig she was with. Angelo knew a few people who would slap a “stupid” label on her forehead for something like that.

But the more Angelo thought, the less likely he’d be to agree. When he saw Penny fretting over the trouble she caused, drowning in indecision, he didn’t see a stupid girl. He saw someone who was too kind for their own good. Someone who wanted nothing more than to make the people around her happy, even at the cost of her own safety. Which, to Angelo, meant only one thing: Whoever this Penny girl was, she wasn’t used to being happy on her own terms.

Hank drove them down Sycamore Street, and parked behind an old chain link fence. The location was a dry cleaning and alteration business, with chemical smells that were evident before one even stepped through the threshold. Angelo told Hank to wait by the car, and straightening out his blazer, Angelo stepped inside. The ladies at their sewing machines barely looked up from their work. He walked down the row toward the back without a word. Around the corner sat an old woman in front of a desk and calculator. She looked up, squinting through her half-moon glasses, before gesturing at a door opposite her desk. Angelo nodded and headed inside.

Beyond the door were steps leading to a basement. The constant thudding of the steamers, cleaners, washers, and dryers was enough to drown out any foreign sounds. Including, say, the endless whimpering of a man tied to a chair at the far end of the basement. Reaching the door, Angelo observed the scene.

The room itself was mostly for storage, with shelves upon shelves of supplies and chemicals. There were no windows here, seeing as that it was underground, and the only light source was the single bulb that swayed gently above the men in the room. There were three bulky figures centered around a single man in a chair, who was tied off tightly to prevent escape. The interrogators had bruises on their knuckles, with sleeves rolled up to their elbows. The largest one, a barrel chested, black-haired bull of a man, turned to Angelo with a nod.

“Yo,” he said, fixing his cuff.

“Afternoon, Nico,” Angelo greeted. He gestured to the main in the chair. “This our guy?”

“Probably,” said Nico. “Fucker won’t talk though. Figured you might want a crack at him.”

Angelo, hands in his pockets, stepped closer. The accused man lifted his head, and Angelo saw a collage of bruises and scrapes painted all over his soft face. He looked upon Angelo with sheer terror, to which Angelo did not react. “Afternoon, friend,” he said plainly. “I don’t recognize you. You with the lower families?” The accused nodded smally. “What’s your name?”

He swallowed a massive lump in his throat. “D-Dan.”

“Dan. Dan what?”

“Dan Crenshaw.”

“Dan Crenshaw. Do you know who I am?” Dan nodded again. “Good. You a newbie, Dan? A recruit?”

“I…The family hired me in high school to sell drugs.”

“And how’d you do with that, Dan? Make a lot of good money?”

“Y-yes sir.”

“Mm-hm.” Grabbing a steel chair, Angelo sat in front of Dan and took off his blazer. Draping it behind him, he undid the cuffs of his shirt to get comfortable. “And how’s the money these days, Dan? Is it still good?”

Dan whimpered, his eyes threatening new tears. “L-look whatever y-you guys think I did, I didn’t—!”

“Shh shh.” Angelo held up a hand, and Dan swallowed the rest of his protest, though he still trembled like a Chihuahua. “How long you been with the DeRossi syndicate, Dan?”

“Th…three years.”

“Which makes you…?”

“Twenty. Twenty one in June.”

“Uh-huh.” Angelo leaned back in his chair, one leg over the other, and folded his arms. “Nico.” He spoke without turning. “What you’re trying to tell me is that this boy here, some low level, know-nothing, do-nothing kid, is our man?” When he finally did shift to Nico, his expression was thoroughly unamused. “Since when are rats this low on the totem pole, buddy?”

“R-rat!?” Dan, shocked by the label, leaned forward in his chair, constrained by his tight ropes. “S-sir, no! I wouldn’t never, I—!”

“I’m tellin’ you, he’s guilty,” Nico gruffed. “This fucker’s been skipping deadlines. Turnin’ off his work phone, trying to make sure nobody knows what he’s up to or what he’s doing.” Nico rounded to Dan and grabbed him by the hair. “This little f**k’s been suspicious for the last five months. And then we hear from your father to keep an eye out for rats. Well, Mr. Angelo, I’d say this one stinks like a fuckin’ rodent.”

Angelo was unbothered by Nico’s rough hand. “Is this true?” Simpering, Dan shut his eyes tightly. Nico let his hair go, and Dan’s head drooped to his chest. Angelo leaned forward on his knees, hands laced together. “Dan. Look at me.” Trying to control his weeping, Dan lifted his face. “You gotta tell me right now why Nico here would be suspicious of you. You be up front about it, I might be able to convince your family to take it easy on you. But we’re gonna find out one way or another, Dan. Do you really want us finding out the hard way?” For a while, Dan only slobbered in response. However, Angelo could tell that the answer was on the tip of his tongue. He leaned in close. “Come on, Dan. Let’s have it. The truth now.” Dan fumbled on his own spit, and for a moment, it seemed he wouldn’t be able to get the words out. But finally, with no other option, he choked out the words:

“I’m gay.”

Angelo blinked. He turned to Nico’s thugs. They looked just as confused. He rounded back to Dan. There was no lie on his face. Angelo leaned back in his chair. “Ah,” he said thoughtfully. “So…trying to keep things on the down-low was for…your boyfriend?”

“P-please don’t hurt him!” Dan suddenly begged. “J-Jamil is all I have. He—he’s my whole world! I promised him I’d keep him safe and—!”

“All right, relax.” Angelo threw up his hands and stood. “Nobody cares who you take to bed, kid.” While Dan looked visibly relieved, Nico was beside himself.

“Wha—? Are you telling me that this kid is just some fuckin’ fag?!”

“Looks like. And don’t be rude, Nico.”

“Jeeysus.” Nico drew out the word with exasperation and ran his thick hand through his greasy hair. “Well f**k me. I don’t know how his captain is gonna take the news. He don’t take well to fruits, you know, Angelo.”

“That right?” Angelo eyed poor Dan up and down. “Then I’ll put in for a transfer.” Dan snapped his head up, but Angelo was already on his way out. “I know a few spots closer to the Palace that could use better dealers. We’ll make sure he’s a better fit for whoever his new captain is.”

“Seriously?” Nico scratched his big, bulbous head as Angelo grabbed his blazer and started to leave. “Are you for real, sir? I don’t know who’d want to take in a fuckin’ fairy—”

“Then I guess he’ll just have to keep that information to himself. Won’t you, Dan?” Dan slowly nodded, though it was clear he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Angelo turned back to Nico. “Let him go, patch him up. And for God sakes, get him a fuckin’ Big Mac or something. The kid looks half starved to death.” Clearly, Nico didn’t want to play babysitter, but there was no room in Angelo’s voice for debate. Before leaving, Angelo glanced back one last time. “You’ll let me know if they give you any more trouble, won’t you, Dan?” Without awaiting an answer, Angelo left the room.

By the time he was out of the dry-cleaners, his feet were heavy, and his head was buzzing. He approached Hank, who was busy enjoying his smoke, and tossed his jacket into the back seat of the car. Hank c****d an eyebrow. “So how’d it go, boss?” he asked.

“Back to square one,” Angelo lamented. “Nico was way off, but what else is new?”

“Mm.” Hank leaned against his driver’s side window, and thumbed his filter. “So? Where to now?”

“Ugh. I think I need a walk. I could use a little breather.”

“Sure thing. Call when you want a pickup.”