She runs out without looking back. I flick the lock once she’s gone, turning around to see the groom’s not moved a muscle. “Sit down,” I tell him.
“Please,” he says, starting the waterworks already. “It’s my wedding day.”
“Sit down or it happens now.”
He swallows hard, sniffing away the tears, sinking into the chair. I take the one opposite, pouring us both a drink. I fill his glass to the top before I slide it his way. “You know who sent me then?”
He nods, taking the glass I hold out with a trembling hand. Whiskey splashes over the side as he brings it to his face and downs it in one. His eyes turn red as he sets the glass down. “I can take a guess.”
“You thought getting married would save you?”
He groans, leaning his head back to do it like he’s about to howl at the moon. When he looks at me again, the fear is gone. Instead, there’s only contempt. The arrogance of the made man. Thinks he might survive this, that his famiglia gives him armor. “Married men are untouchable,” he says with a whine coming into his voice. “I’m married now. You can’t touch me.”
“Weren’t married when you fucked those kids, though, were you?”
“That was never proven.”
“Maybe not in court, but the organization has different rules.”
“The organization? I thought it was a myth.”
“Shame for you that you’re wrong.”
“So what happens now? You’re not going to kill me, are you? Please, I’ve got a family.”
“Those kids had families. Still trying to fix the trauma you caused.”
He groans, the fear falling from his face as he groans. “They said you talk when you do it. I didn’t believe them but look at you yakking away like you got all the time in the world. I reckon my dad sent you to pretend you work for the organization, scare me straight.”
“Your father’s got nothing to do with this.”
“Bullshit. How much is he paying you? I’ll double it for you to tell me the truth.”
“Truth is, you’re going to die.”
He looks me right in the eyes like we’re playing poker and he thinks I’m going to fold. He sees nothing there and his bravado turns to dust. He starts stuttering. “I… I… I won’t let you do it. I got a lot of made men in the next room. They’ll come in here if I shout once, drag you out, beat the shit out of you.”
“I know you only brought two guards and they’re both too pissed to give a shit. Even if they could hear that noise out there.”
“I’ll scream. Someone will hear it.”
I shake my head. “Nope. Got to inhale to scream and I know the sound of the inhalation. Slight hitch, couple of seconds. Clear as day. Heard it a lot before and always been able to cut it off before the scream gets out. Drink your drink.”
I pour him another measure, taking a sip of mine before setting it back down. I don’t drink hard on a job. Got to keep my edge. Never know when shit might go south.
“Not going to seek forgiveness for your sins?”
“Would it make any difference?”
“Not to me. They were kids, Malcolm.”
“So fucking what? I paid them well enough, and it wasn’t like they complained or nothing. They were into it, you could tell, fucking loved it. Made them feel big, getting fucked by a Capo. I made them feel good.”
“You keep telling yourself that, see if St. Peter agrees.”
“I didn’t do nothing wrong. You got no right to do this.”
I point a finger at him. “Think what would happen if I wasn’t here. You’d get on the honeymoon and you’d fuck like bunny rabbits, all romantic like. But then you’d come back to the shit-hole that is the real world, and the rot would soon set in. Her age would niggle at you. Not young enough for your tastes. Plus, what if she found out about your true predilections? Of course she would eventually. If I found out, she would too, eventually.”