Accidental Mobster (19 page)

* * * *

A few hours later, I sit in the kitchen, frustrated and bored. Frank and Gino left almost as soon as I walked into the house, and the house has been quiet now for several hours. Vince is sleeping on the sofa in the living room, and Ronnie and Julia (who has recently been released from her grounding) are now at the mall shopping.

I am about to go wake up Vince so we can play video games, when I hear the front door open. I wait to see who it is, but as soon as I hear several men's voices, I race to my bedroom. I don't want to come face to face with any of the mobsters I saw at the diner last month; I am afraid my face will betray me. I'm really not a great actor.

Standing in my bedroom, I crack the door. The living room lies to the side of the kitchen, and I can see Vince sprawled across the sofa, snoring loud enough that Baxter occasionally yaps at him and licks his hand, even though Vince doesn't respond to the small dog's attention. I step back as I see Gino enter the living room and shake Vince awake.

“Go upstairs if you're going to sleep. You're drooling on the sofa,” Gino growls. Vince grumpily heaves himself from the sofa and tromps up the stairs. When I see Gino head in my direction, I step away from the door and rush to the bed, leaping on it. I arrange my limbs haphazardly so that I look as though I have been sleeping, and then I turn my head away from the door and close my eyes.

Two seconds later, Gino sticks his head in the room. I can feel his presence as he stands in the doorway silently, and I hope that I can at least convince my godfather that I am asleep. My acting seems to work, because a couple of seconds later, Gino leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

This is it!
I think excitedly. Maybe these guys are going to talk mob business. I creep to the door and open it the slightest crack, and when the door doesn't creak, I thank Ronnie silently for her impeccable homemaking skills. As my eyes find Gino at the kitchen table, I realize Frank is not with the group. The man Ray referred to as “Donny” is also sitting at the table across from Gino, but I am more surprised by the third man at the table—Joe Saviano.
What is Portia's dad doing here?
I ask myself, thinking that Portia's gruff car salesman father has never seemed a likely member of the Mafia. But he certainly is hanging out with the right people—or the wrong people, I guess.

Against my better judgment, I decide I need to get closer. I scurry through my room into the bathroom, which has another entrance that leads into a room Ronnie has designated her “activity” space. She is a woman of many hobbies. Beaded napkin rings and fluffy pillows are just a few items I have noticed emerge from this room in the past week. But at the moment, Ronnie's room is serving as an alternate route for me. I slip through the room and into the hall and head to the foyer. From there, I pass Gino's office and creep near the kitchen.

As I reach the hall leading to the kitchen, I try to keep my breathing as quiet as possible. I can now hear the men's voices. I think for a brief moment that I may hide in the utility closet, but I want to be able to escape quickly, so I wait around the corner from the kitchen, listening to the muffled conversation.

“I hate meeting here,” Donny says. “I don't think it's safe.”

Gino huffs. “Shut up, Donny. This place is secure. It's your fancy apartment I'm worried about. So many girls go in and out of there, you have no idea if it's safe to talk business.”

Donny starts to grumble, but he is interrupted by the low, gruff voice of Joe. “What's the deal, Gino? You going to leave Chen alone?”

Gino sighs. “I want to let this Chen thing go. I don't like beating up helpless old men who aren't scumbags. I'd have no problem hurting him if he were like half the riffraff we deal with on a daily basis—most of them are robbing their customers, so it's only fair we charge them in return. But Chen is a good man, and I'm tired of harassing him. Especially since he's your friend, Joe.”

“I'm not tired of harassing him,” Donny cuts in. “He owes us money, and he'd better pay. You've got a problem with being soft, Gino. I'd cut it out. Ray doesn't want a do-gooder workin' for him. Do-gooders don't make money.”

“I agree with Gino,” Joe says. “I need the money more than both of you, but Chen is a friend of my family, and I want him left alone. What happened the other night—that can't ever happen again.”

Donny beats his fist on the kitchen table. “You don't call orders, Joe! Or did you forget? You're nobody! You're at the bottom of the food chain! I don't care who your friends are! I want my money, and I'll beat the living daylights out of anyone who stands in my way!”

“
Shut up
, Donny!” Gino says, keeping his voice low but firm. “Don't talk that way. Joe is a huge earner for us with that car lot. We work a lot of money through that place.”

“I just don't want him telling me what I can do,” Donny replies sullenly.

“Just keep it down, okay? Last thing I need is for one of my kids to hear you!” Gino says even more softly.

“Like Danny?” Donny asks. “Still can't believe he's Penny's son. She's a pretty gutsy babe to take off like she did.”

“Shhhh! I said I don't want him to hear you! That kid has been through enough; he doesn't need to hear wiseguys reminiscing about his mother.”

Donny laughs. “Kinda hard not to.”

“Can we get back to the matter at hand?” Joe interjects. “Please, just leave Chen alone. There are plenty more fish in the sea.”

“Yeah, I'm okay with that,” Gino replies. “In fact, kudos to him for beating us at our own game. He's paid a big enough price already. We'll leave him be.”

Donny clicks his tongue in frustration. “You're stupid for giving up good business. Ray will be angry.”

“He won't find out for a while,” Gino reasons.

“Maybe. But he will find out soon enough,” Donny warns.

It's then that I realize the conversation is over. As I hear the chairs drag back from the table, I leap into motion and dash to my room, confusion and questions swirling in my head.

Over the next week, I go through the motions at school, getting my work completed and hanging out with Vince at lunch. I visit the workout room after school to prepare for the wrestling tryouts being held at the end of the month, and Vince usually joins me, even though he only tried wrestling for one season in middle school and doesn't care about making the team. I know I have a big hurdle to overcome—Tommy Gallo is in my same weight class, and although he is in detention nearly every day now, he is a state championship wrestler and still favored by the coach.

The words that were spoken about my mother haunt me. I find my mind drifting off in class, wondering how my mom is known not only to Gino, but also to the other wiseguys in the Newcastle Mafia. I wish my mom would visit now; I would demand that she tell me how she is involved in all this. I momentarily speculate that my dad may have had some Mafia ties, but when I think about my dad's job at Save-Much and our family's poor living conditions, I quickly rule out any association with the mob.

On Friday, I trudge to my locker after algebra and am pleasantly surprised to see Portia standing next to it. I have heard from Julia that neither she nor Portia won the role of Juliet. Knowing how disappointed Portia must be, I have wanted to cheer her up. I miss her. But Portia still hasn't spoken two words to me since my public exposure. She isn't smiling, but she doesn't appear angry either. She looks worried.

“Hi, Danny,” she says.

“Hey, how are you doing?” I ask, elated that she has actually sought me out.

“I'm fine,” she replies, pausing for a moment, as if struggling with what to say. “Look, I'm still really angry with you, and I still don't want to hang out.” My smile falters at her words. “But I had to tell you something,” she continues. “I saw Tommy at your locker a few minutes ago. I think he robbed you.”

“Tommy Gallo was in my locker? That's not possible! It's got a key lock!” I motion to my padlock in frustration.

Portia steps back from me. “Don't yell at me! I'm only telling you what I saw!”

I quickly adjust the tone of my voice. “I'm sorry—I didn't mean I didn't believe you. I'm just not sure how he could do it.”

She motions to my locker. “You better check to make sure everything is there.”

A pang of anxiety hits my stomach instantly. “My wallet!”

“You left your wallet in your locker?”

“I know—it's stupid!” I say as I move to my locker. “But Vince likes to take it when I'm not looking and steal my money, which he says is really his money, and, well, never mind.” I pull the key out of my backpack, but I quickly realize I don't need it; the lock has been picked open. I quickly fling the door open and search the spot where I usually stuff my wallet. My heart sinks.

“Is it gone?” Portia asks.

I stare at her blankly. I'm not worried about the forty dollars or the credit card that Tommy probably won't use. I'm thinking about a sensitive business card that was handed to me by Detective Alvarez.

“Danny, is it gone?” Portia asks more forcefully.

I finally focus my eyes and nod.

“Then you had better go report it. I'll go with you and tell them what I saw.” She starts to walk past me toward the principal's office, but I reach out and grab her arm.

“No, Portia.”

Portia jerks away from me. “What?”

“No, I'm going to handle this myself.”

“Are you kidding me?” she asks. “You'll handle it? You'll
handle
it? You are such an idiot, Danny! I don't know what I ever saw in you!” She stalks away from me, but not before I see tears coming down her face.

“I'm sorry, Portia. For everything,” I call, not knowing what else I can say. She continues down the hall, not acknowledging my apology. I want to chase her down, but I can't now. I have a huge problem, and once again, it starts with the name Tommy Gallo.

* * * *

Vince drives the Lexus slowly down the road, peering into the darkness because we have decided to leave the headlights off. I can't believe we are creeping along in the Gallo's neighborhood at one a.m. in the morning, but sure enough, a few rash decisions have led me quickly to this point. I decided to tell Vince about the robbery; however, I want to get the wallet back myself.

“So your wallet has something in it that might compromise my dad?” Vince asks me for the tenth time that evening. He is angry.

“I told you, Tommy will never figure out anything unless he finds the card behind my ID, and then he actually has to call that number. The only person it could possibly compromise is me, but because I'm connected to your dad, I don't want to take the chance.”

“And you don't want my dad to find out you're a rat.”

I glare at Vince. This is the first time he has called me that name. I have tried to not consider myself a rat, despite the circumstances, but Vince's accusation frustrates me.

“Don't call me that! I'm caught in a tough situation right now. I'm trying to protect your dad!”

Vince shakes his head. “Well, you're doing a terrible job.”

“Just shut up and drive,” I say, wishing I could keep my emotions under control. I need Vince's help right now.

“
Fine
,” Vince answers. “Whatever you want,
boss
.”

I can't help but recognize Vince's sarcastic reference to the mob, but I keep my angry comeback to myself and instead try to figure out which gigantic house belongs to the Gallos. I look up from the paper I hold in my lap. “I think we're almost there—just a few more houses.”

“You're sure no one's home?” Vince asks, the first indication that he is uneasy about this scheme.

“I'm positive. I asked Tommy's friend Paul where he was because I needed to speak with Tommy. He said they were going to Tommy's grandmother's house for the weekend.”

“Maybe it's a trap,” Vince offers.

I shake my head. “I don't think so. You're giving Paul too much credit.”

“And you're breaking and entering how?”

“I don't have to.” I hold up a key.

“You have a key?” Vince asks in disbelief. “And how about an alarm?”

I hold up a piece of paper in my other hand. “I got really, really lucky. I saw this stuff in a plastic baggie when I was snooping in your dad's office last month. I don't know what your dad does for this guy, but Ray must really trust him. They were in a locked box under the desk, which I opened with a key in a drawer. People never hide keys very well. I remembered the baggie today when Portia told me about the robbery.”

Vince shakes his head and chuckles. “Sometimes I don't like you, Danny. But man, you are crafty. Better not let my dad catch you pinching stuff from his office, though.”

“Yeah, I wouldn't want to have to explain
that
to him.”

We both laugh, easing the tension between us.

“Let me help you,” Vince says finally.

“No, I need you to be a lookout and call me on my cell phone if you see anyone. I'm not dragging you or Gino into this any further.”

“In a way, we may have dragged you into this,” Vince counters, strangely thoughtful.

“Maybe,” I reply. “But like I said, I'm doing my best to protect you.” I point to a large brick colonial house on the left. “There it is. Stop here.”

* * * *

I creep up to the front door and listen carefully. This plan is crazy, and I'm starting to lose some of my nerve. A dog in the backyard lets out a few half-hearted barks, but the house seems deserted. I punch the Gallo's number into my cell phone and wait. I can hear the phone ringing in the house, but after the fifth jingle, the answer machine picks up. I snap my phone shut and insert the key in the lock, apprehensively wondering if it will open the door. I breathe easier as the key turns first the knob lock and then the bolt lock, and I take a deep breath and open the door, immediately scanning the foyer for the alarm security box. I find it to my right, the red light blinking in warning. Taking two steps toward it, I quickly punch in the security code. The light stops flashing but remains red. A prompt comes up on the digital screen: “Please type password.”