The Love You Crave

17.

“We’re friends, right?”

Carmine “The Chin” Porrello, west coast mob boss, is on the phone. Wants to know if we’re friends.

“That’s a tough one,” I say.

He chuckles. “Well, I were you, I’d say yes.”

“Then, yes.”

“’Cause this is a friendship call.”

“Good to know,” I say.

“I don’t approve of you bustin’ in my house.”

“I know.”

“On the other hand, you could’ve killed me, and you didn’t.”

“And I paid you fifty grand.”

“True,” he says. “Plus, I hear our friend survived the shooting.”

He’s talking about Gwen.

“She did,” I say.

“You datin’ her?”

“It’s up in the air.”

“Women, right?”

“Tell me why you’re calling.”

“You young people,” he says.

“What about us?”

“You’re too impatient. You don’t understand the art of chit-chat.”

“There’s an art to chit-chat?”

“See? You don’t know.”

I feel like reaching through the phone and pulling the purpose of his call from his throat. He’s right. I don’t like idle chit-chat. I’d rather have a root canal. I’m sitting on a cot in the windowless room I built in the center of PhySpa, talking on the phone to a guy who’s so old, last time I saw him his nuts were hanging out of his underwear and he didn’t even know it. Until the phone buzzed, I’d been holding the ceramic device we recovered from Gwen’s boob a few hours ago. Working it around in my hand the same way I used to work the silver dollar my grandfather gave me all those years ago. I wonder why I keep playing with this device instead of smashing it with a sledge hammer like any intelligent person would do. For some reason I’m content to hold this weapon of death in my hand. This device that can kill me instantly, should it fall into the wrong hands.

I wonder what that says about me.

Finally, after what seems like months, Carmine gets to the point.

“Someone wants to take out a hit on you.”

“Thank goodness!”

“This news makes you happy?”

“Absolutely.”

“Why?”

“It’ll add excitement to my life.”

“I didn’t accept the hit.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re friends.”

“Oh.”

We’re quiet a minute. Then Carmine says, “Don’t you wanna know?”

“What?”

“The person who wants you dead.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“That’d make it too easy.”

“I think you’ll be surprised.”

“I’m just messing with you,” I say. “I already know who it is.”

“Really?”

“Tony Spumoni. You know him?”

“Sure. He comes to the club.”

“I embarrassed him today.”

“How?”

“Ripped one of his ears off.”

“No shit?” Carmine chuckles. “You’re somethin’ else, you are. That must’ve hurt.”

“You’d think so. But you’re right, I am surprised.”

“Why’s that?”

“There’s a lot of uncertainty in his company. I’d expect him to wait till the dust clears.”

We go silent again. Then Carmine says something that surprises me even more.

“It wasn’t Tony.”

“What?”

“It was your other business partner.”

My other business partner? I frown. “Who, Wadsworth?”

“Nope.”

I think a minute.

Of course!

Who stands to lose the most in the new business arrangement? The vice president of research and development.

“George Best,” I say.

“I don’t know Mr. Best,” Carmine says.

“Okay, I give up. Who is it that wants me dead?”

“Our friend, Gwen Peters.”