Chapter 2:The Collection
699 Words
Three months had passed since Tony's first errand for the Gambino family. Summer had faded into a crisp New York autumn, and Tony's responsibilities had grown. No longer just a courier, he'd been tasked with collections – a job that required a delicate balance of charm and intimidation.
Tony straightened his leather jacket as he approached Gino's Auto Shop. The scent of motor oil and cigarette smoke hung in the air. Inside, a pot-bellied man in his fifties looked up from a dismantled engine, his face falling as he recognized Tony.
"Ah, Christ," Gino muttered. "It ain't the fifteenth already, is it?"
Tony leaned against the garage door, affecting a casual pose. "Time flies when you're having fun, eh, Gino? You know why I'm here."
Gino wiped his greasy hands on a rag, buying time. "Look, kid, business has been slow. I just need another week—"
"You said that last month," Tony interrupted, his voice low and even. "Mr. Gravano ain't happy. You're three grand behind."
The older man's shoulders slumped. "I can maybe scrape together a thousand. But three? I just don't have it."
Tony felt a flicker of sympathy. Gino wasn't a bad guy, just a struggling business owner who'd made the mistake of borrowing from the wrong people. But sympathy wouldn't get Tony anywhere in this world.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "I like you, Gino. So I'm gonna level with you. This ain't just about the money. It's about respect. You made a deal. Now, the family's starting to think maybe you don't respect them."
Fear flashed in Gino's eyes. "No, no, it ain't like that. I respect Mr. Gravano, I swear."
Tony nodded, playing his role. "I believe you. But beliefs don't pay bills, you know? So here's what we're gonna do. You're gonna give me that thousand now, and you're gonna have the rest by Friday. No excuses."
"Friday?" Gino's voice cracked. "That's impossible—"
Tony's hand shot out, grabbing Gino's shirt collar. In that moment, he channeled every tough guy he'd ever seen in the movies, every stories he'd heard about made men. His voice came out in a growl.
"You got a nice shop here, Gino. Be a real shame if something happened to it. Or to that pretty wife of yours. What's her name? Maria?"
The color drained from Gino's face. "You wouldn't..."
Tony released him, smoothing out the mechanic's shirt. "Me? Nah. I'm just the messenger. But there are guys above me, Gino. Guys who ain't as nice as me. Guys who see a missed payment as a personal insult."
He stepped back, his tone softening. "Don't make me come back with those guys, okay? For both our sakes."
Gino nodded, defeated. He disappeared into the office and returned with a stack of bills. "It's all I got. I'll... I'll find the rest by Friday. Somehow."
Tony counted the money, then tucked it into his jacket. "Smart move, Gino. See you Friday."
As he walked out of the garage, Tony felt a mix of emotions churning in his gut. Part of him felt powerful, important. Another part felt sick at the fear he'd seen in Gino's eyes.
But he pushed those feelings down. This was the job. This was how you climbed the ladder.
Tony made his way to a payphone, dialing a number he now knew by heart. Sammy Gravano's gruff voice answered.
"Yeah?"
"It's Tony. Gino paid a grand. Says he'll have the rest by Friday."
Gravano grunted. "Good work, kid. Bring the cash to Sal's. I got another job for you."
The line went dead. Tony hung up, a small smile playing on his lips. Another job. Another chance to prove himself.
As he walked through the bustling Brooklyn streets, Tony's mind wandered. He thought about Gino, about the fear in his eyes. But he also thought about the respect he was earning, the doors that were opening.
In this world, you were either the one paying or the one collecting. And Tony Russo had made his choice.
He quickened his pace, heading towards Sal's Pizzeria. The future was waiting, and Tony was ready to seize it – no matter the cost.
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