“Sure thing.”
I don’t argue with him. Maybe he’ll cash in something and come up with the funds. If not, he’ll be cut off from any further games. If that happens, I’ll need to find a new location for next week’s game.
We say our goodnights and he leaves. The number of men around the table steadily shrinks as one after another lose all their chips and call it quits.
Some guys do this for fun and can afford to lose, others can’t afford their losing streak, and it will cost them, which equals to more money in my pocket. Shitty luck happens, that’s why I need to continually recruit new players and keep fresh blood coming in.
There are other high stakes poker games going on in our organization, but I run the most lucrative games thanks to my networking among the jet set crowd with money to burn.
Modern times have forced crime families to go into legitimate businesses and I have a shell company of cash businesses like laundromats that we use to wash the dirty money. We are a family made up of numerous families across Italy who all have a role to play and a line to tow.
I push back the cuff of my blue Brunello Cucinelli sweater and check the time on a Rolex that costs more than most family cars. It’s two in the morning and I can tell the players are tapped out.
Currently, the elections are keeping law enforcement more concerned over protests than pursuing organized crime, but I’m still vigilant. Besides, It would be a crying shame for a car goes to sixty miles an hour in seconds and is the same Rosso Corsa color as our Italian racing team to be impounded.
It’s not all sunshine and fragrant flowers circling around my feet. We were recently at war in the south with Francesca’s family, but we emerged victorious and, for the most part, unscathed. The loss of life—minimal.
Everyone imagines my life as a bachelor in the flourishing city of Florence means I have it made. And for the most part, I do. I can afford to live in my own condo which few men my age can say because it’s so expensive to live in the city. In fact, most of my contemporaries live with their parents, as do many of our younger members.
My handsome face and rock-hard body serves as an appetizer for young girls looking for a man to buy them drinks and show them a good time. I can do all that and more. It doesn’t hurt that my brother Sal owns a popular nightclub downtown. I’m rarely at a loss for company, although at times I feel empty inside and I don’t understand why.
The poker game wraps up as my toes protest inside my brown leather dress shoes. I’d rather be wearing my black and white Ferragamo sneakers.
My brothers make fun of my love for shoes, but I think they are just jealous. It doesn’t help that I’m the baby in the family and the only one Mama sends home with leftovers from family dinners on Sunday.
No one is allowed to help her in the kitchen but with the addition of a new daughter-in-law next month, maybe she will loosen the reins a bit.
She slaves all day perfecting her sauce, adding fresh San Marzano tomatoes, sausage, basil, and a pinch of sage. The sauce is sweetened to perfection. I think she adds red wine to it, but she’ll never tell me which one, saying every woman needs a few secrets.
Returning to my condo on the fourth floor, I flick on the light and a soft yellow glow warms the kitchen. After working all night, the last thing I need are harsh LED lights burning my retinas. My eyes are raw and bloodshot from working around furnaces running full blast to warm the air because Florence can get nippy in December.
I toss my keys and briefcase full of money on the kitchen table before pouring myself a shot of tequila from the freezer. It will warm me up and might even help me sleep.
I love ’em and leave ’em but on nights like this, it would be nice to have Angelica in my bed. But she’s on a tropical island for a week modeling swimsuits. Lucky girl.
I give her enough space to make her think I’m unattainable. Italian men are such flirts, for any girl to take us seriously is a crime. We like to be carefree and spontaneous. Besides, marriage is unproductive. It’s got to be a drain to be with the same person forever.
I am unobtainable, it’s part of the game that single people, particularly Italian men, play. Because our lifestyle involves constantly rotating men and women, the most we can hope for is to find someone compatible to share lonely nights until the right one comes along.
Luckily for me, I don’t have to marry anyone for the family. I’m too young to decide my future and Mama is too busy planning Dante’s wedding to nag me about finding a wife.
Sal and Francesca will be next in line, so the family tradition continues of marrying Italian women and producing the next generation of Michelis to take over the empire we’re building. Of course, there is always the chance something terrible can happen, but the fighting in the streets is mostly in Sicily, so I thank God for that.
However, at Dante’s wedding we’ll have friends and foes around because we typically carry out business at family functions. Just because he is a don and not at war with anyone, it doesn’t mean he’s untouchable. I’ll have to have his back and the same goes for all our security details and soldiers who work the streets every day and get their hands dirty conducting business we’d rather not do ourselves.
I carry my chilled shot glass to my large balcony overlooking the sleeping city of Florence. The fog has lifted; I can just make out the Pointe Vecchio spanning over the Arno River.
This time of day is the last opportunity to enjoy the peace and quiet before the streets fill with the noise of cars and trams bringing people in from the ’burbs. I’m used to church bells in the background but will never get used to car horns and police sirens.
It took years to build the annoying commuter tram from the airport just outside of Florence to the main train station in the city. It runs constantly and impedes traffic which is already ridiculous. It’s become commonplace for most homes to have two cars now, which means more traffic and more aggravation. Parking has always been a problem but now it’s a nightmare.
Florence used to have a large open-air market selling local products, but elected officials determined it was more profitable to replace it with trendy shops for tourists. Times are changing. I can’t say I’m a fan.
Now it’s hard to find a leather purse or belt with ‘Made in Florence’ stamped on it. The irony of it. Leather goods used to be a trademark of Italian workmanship and a huge export along with some of the most notable fashion designers of the twentieth century.
Today, one of our profitable side businesses is making knockoffs of designer brands and selling them internationally. The fines have increased if we’re caught, but we always have plenty of fences and numerous fronts on different continents.
Only today it’s not just our family but other families that have their family connections and skill sets that keep the money flowing. It’s the age of interdependency to an extent. I’m not sure which came first, the euro becoming the currency for the European market or criminal organizations working together. But the Albanians are determined to crawl up our asses. I don’t like foreigners taking over what should be Italian. It’s not like it used to be when Nonno, my Grandapa, ran things.