Made For You

Ch. 9: Dream Of Me

Gabriel

I have a low tolerance for lactose and an even lower tolerance for idiotic chattering.

I abhor the occasional meetings we hold in the conference room. They are mandatory—arranged by my loyal brother. Everyone has to attend no matter which part of the world they are currently in.

I call. They come.

Every capo needs to bring his ass into the room, sit himself in one of the chairs bordering the semi-circular oak table and pretend that they have the right to voice their opinions.

Newsflash: they don't.

But pretending sometimes gets far. Like tonight for instance.

"This is war. We can't have this." Capo Diego slams a heavy fist on the oak table, his jaw trembling as he rages.

His voice makes me cringe, not because it is frightening but because of the high-pitch which is completely unnecessary. We are civilized people here—the cops would deny it but don't believe them. We try our best to pretend we are common citizens of the Big Apple. Quite demeaning considering how low we have to stoop sometimes just to be similar to those ants walking around the streets, thinking their 9-5 job is the peak of their life.

I pity them for their obliviousness. They don't know the wonders of the underworld.

"A war with who?" Fabio arches an eyebrow.

He is standing beside me, sharp-suited with polished shoes, trying his best to control the situation as the air in the room thickens with unresolved tension. The other capos are murmuring among themselves. The only one who has been spared to attend the meeting is Rocco's father. I want to give him as much time as possible to grieve for his son.

"We know who's behind this!" Diego bellows deafeningly, thinking that he has my attention which he truly doesn't. "We're being threatened."

"It's the third body found this week," another capo—Andres Ruiz—quips from beside Diego, his chest inflating as if he has done an act of great bravado as he settles his beady green eyes on me. "Your reign is being threatened by outside forces and you're doing nothing to find the killer."

"Gabriel is trying his best. It's not his fault if the killer is always two steps ahead of us," Fabio tells them, sounding calm which I know he isn't by the way his fisted hands are shaking.

"You swore to protect this famiglia!" Diego states, the others nodding along. "You took an oath."

"We have Rocco's bodyguard under custody," Fabio reminds them, a bit tersely. "We're interrogating him."

"Have you reached a breakthrough?" Andres asks.

"No," Fabio sighs. "We aren't the cops so he isn't very thrilled to tell us anything. But we know he had a part to play."

"This won't work. Give that man to us. We will see what to do with him."

I watch the heated exchange minutely, taking in the details like no one else can. They think I know nothing. That I see nothing.

I don't see nothing. I see everything.

Most of all, I observe everything.

I observe how Diego's fat stomach has grown fatter in the last five months since our last counterfeiting scheme had success, I see how he has two new rings on his fingers—both made of rare diamonds, I take a mental note of how he celebrated his daughter's wedding two months ago, spending millions in the venue. I received an invitation, visited too, and unknown to him, got my cock sucked by his daughter in her white dress right before she took her vows.