Sugar Daddy

By Connie Johnson

Marty Kavrone was born poor, but raised within a prominent organized crime family. Home schooled by some of England's finest educators. He came up in the organization well respected and trustworthy. He controlled Chicago's south side Speakeasys and gambling houses. Which were predominately operated and patronized by the black community. Marty's heart and his Tug of War between right and wrong are continual battles for him throughout his life time. Marty's choices may shock and astound you. Discover how Marty deals with racial discrimination, family, love and violence.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 20, 2017
• ISBN: 9781684097388

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Sugar Daddy

Connie Johnson

Copyright © 2016 Connie Johnson

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2016

ISBN 978-1-68409-737-1 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-68409-738-8 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

In Bogota, Colombia, Italian mobster Nick Laroni forms a bond with coffee field laborer Pedro Kavrone in the mid-1890s. He promises prosperity and that he will educate Pedro’s only son, Martino, along with his sons in exchange for his duties as a gentlemen’s gentleman and his supervision over Nick’s sons. Pedro agrees to come to America with Nick after he evaluates his present life in Colombia and Nick’s constant persistence in offering him a better life.

Nick does as promised. Martino is educated in the Laroni household by a live-in tutor along with Nick’s sons, Franco and Salvador. Martino is a couple years younger than Nick’s youngest son, Franco.

Franco and Martino become close friends immediately, but the eldest son, Salvador, hates Martino and begins to make life miserable for him. Martino finds comfort and protection from one of Nick’s lynch men and confidants, Cornelius O’Banion.

Marty becomes fluent in Italian and is looked upon as one of Nick’s sons as he grows up on the Laroni estate.

Marty is a fast learner, and his knowledge and abilities are validated by Nick and his associates throughout his youth. Marty’s wisdom is mainly used on paperwork brought to Laroni estates by Nick until Marty is in his early twenties.

Nick then gives Marty some on-hand experience with dealing with speakeasy’s that he controls in Chicago’s predominately black area.

Marty feels at home in these areas even though he knows that comfort only stems from the stronghold arm of the mob.

Marty works to establish himself as a legitimate business. He’s been fed up with mob life from the very beginning. He starts associating with different types of prominent and influential people, unbeknownst to the mob.

Personally, Marty gets caught up in a love triangle between a black employee of his, a prominent English woman, and the love of his life, Samantha.

Samantha is a gorgeous young black woman that wants only to free herself from Marty’s clutches. Marty manages to hide as well as hold on to Samantha for well over twenty years in a most interesting way.

Sugar Daddy will anger you, but it will make you think. If you had all the money and the power to do whatever you wanted to do and, along with that, dealing with everyday run-of-the-mill human emotions—selfishness, greed, possession, jealousy, love, insecurity, prejudice, fear, etc.—what would you do?

Chapter 1

Marty entered the lobby of the funeral parlor. He proceeded to the podium where the book of registered guests and mourners lay open. He signed his name in the book and then walked toward the double doors that led into the chapel where the body of Nick Laroni lay. Marty could see that the chapel was packed wall to wall with people. Some of the faces were familiar to him, and some of them were not. He walked straight up the middle aisle of the church and came to a halt in front of the large white coffin that held the body of the man that was his lifelong mentor and friend. Marty did not acknowledge anyone else’s presence in the chapel. Who was there was not important. As far as Marty was concerned, he and the body of Nick Laroni were the only ones present. Marty leaned over into the coffin and placed a kiss on Nick’s forehead. It felt very cool, stiff, and lifeless. Marty had kissed Nick many times in the past for one reason or another—anniversaries, birthdays, holidays, etc. It made Marty feel very strange and painfully sad to be kissing him for this reason. It was for the last time and to say good-bye.

As Marty stood there, he recalled how he had come to know Nick. His father, Pedro Kavrone, had met him in Bogota, Colombia, in 1912. Pedro worked in the coffee fields, bagging coffee beans by day, and worked as a waiter in the Little Colombia Restaurant by night. Nick Laroni was the proprietor and visited the restaurant frequently whenever he was in the country. Usually, a beautiful lady accompanied Nick whenever he patronized his own establishment. He always requested Pedro to wait on his table. In a short period, the men became good friends. They discovered quickly that they had some things in common. Both men were widowers, with no desire to remarry. And both were raising sons with minimal supervision because of their hectic business schedules.

Nick Laroni made a trip to the restaurant one day to offer Pedro a special proposal. He asked Pedro to move to America and work as a gentleman’s gentleman in his home. He would have full charge of the household since Laroni’s business ventures sometimes kept him away from home for weeks at a time. He needed someone he could trust to keep his household and his sons in order. Nick felt that no one could be entrusted to do the job but Pedro Kavrone. Nick also assured Pedro that Marty would receive an education, the best that money could buy, right along with his sons. Pedro accepted the offer, and Pedro and Marty moved to America right away and set up housekeeping in the Laroni household. Marty was eight years old at that time.

Immediately after their arrival, Marty came face-to-face with hatred, jealousy, and resentment. It came from Nick’s eldest son, Salvador. Everyone called him Sal for short. Francisco, who was called Franco, was the younger one. Franco was the complete opposite of Sal. He was two years older than Marty, and he took him under his wing, and the two hit it off right from the beginning. This, of course, infuriated the hell out of Sal. Every chance Sal got, he took the opportunity to let Marty know just how unwanted he was and that he considered Marty and his father common peasants. However, Sal was the only one that felt that way. Everyone else welcomed them with open arms and showed them respect and decency.

Marty lifted a rose from one of the vases surrounding the coffin. He walked back over to the coffin and placed the rose between Laroni’s fingers. Marty then turned around and walked over to the front row of pews where the family sat. Franco and his wife, Maria, slid over to the right to make room for Marty to sit down. However, Sal, who was seated to the left, made no effort to move an inch. As Marty took his seat, he thought to himself that even on a day such as today, Sal’s hatred for him hadn’t ceased. He ignored Sal today as he had learned to do over the years. He simply acted as though Sal was not there. The funeral was standard as most funerals were. Same sermon, different face.

At the burial site, Marty thought about the previous funerals he’d attended. It was very painful for him. He had buried his own father. Pedro worked in the Laroni household for fifteen years. He worked up until the day that a massive heart attack took his life. Nick Laroni buried Pedro like he was burying a member of his own family. Nick loved Pedro, and he grieved the loss right along with Marty. Marty believed the feelings were mutual as far as Pedro was concerned. The men remained close over the years.

Nick saw to it that Marty was educated right along with his sons, just as he promised. Due to the nature of Nick’s business, the boys were not allowed to attend regular or private schools. They were not allowed off the estate grounds without a chaperone and a couple of armed heavies. The schoolteacher lived at the estate and held class five days a week, for four hours each day. The boys had homework plus reading assignments. With the schoolteacher right there on the premises, there was no avoiding them. Marty and Franco did okay. Marty was a natural learner. He had no problems with retaining information and remembering it much, much later. Franco had problems sometimes, but Marty was right there to help him whenever he needed it.

Sal, on the other hand, was something else entirely. He never cared much about schooling, at least not the type that came from books and the classroom. He liked hanging out with the bodyguards or heavies around the estate. They didn’t mind Sal hanging out around them. They felt if they were nice to him, maybe they could score some points with Laroni.

Each of the boys received the education he sought. When Marty was about eighteen years old, Laroni noticed how good Marty was with mathematical figures. He let Marty go over his financial statements with his accountant, Pete Cicero. Marty understood everything he saw. Pretty soon he was making suggestions to Laroni and Cicero about better ways to prepare the statements. Marty made significant changes regarding tracking inventory and keeping the costs of labor down. By the time Marty was twenty-one, he knew all the ins and outs of Laroni’s business. Unfortunately, all Laroni’s business was illegal. He dealt in liquor and prostitution, and he made a small mint doing so. It seemed like everyone wanted something that they could not get legally, so Laroni and many others like him made it possible for them to have it.

The crowd of mourners was now beginning to leave the burial site. Marty and Cornelius O’Banion, one of Laroni’s most trusted lead men, elected to stay behind until Laroni’s remains were permanently laid to rest. Cornelius, who was referred to as Corky by everyone who knew him, worked for Laroni for many years. In fact, Corky was there when Marty and his father first arrived from Colombia. Corky was an all-around kind of guy. He handled many things for Laroni. He collected payoffs, made deliveries, kept the peace when it was necessary, and on occasion, silenced troublemakers for good when there was no other way to deal with them. Corky was Irish. He was very honest and loyal and a pretty tough customer if he was pushed the wrong way by the wrong somebody. Marty liked Corky right from the start. Corky had a very good way of dealing with Sal. Whenever Corky saw Sal giving Marty a hard time, he usually intervened by saying something or doing something to take Sal’s attention away from hassling Marty. Marty always appreciated the gesture. He sometimes wondered how he would ever show his gratitude to the Irish hustler.

The two men remained seated, watching everyone leave the grounds. Corky looked over at Marty and said, You know, I’m going to miss Mr. Laroni. He was a good man. A good man in this type of business is hard to come by, a real rarity. But one thing I know for sure, and that is all hell is going to break loose now. With Laroni gone, Sal will definitely fight for control. Marty just nodded in agreement. Corky continued, Mr. Laroni’s written testimonial will be read tomorrow afternoon. I just don’t know, even with that, if Sal will let things go on the way his father wanted them to.

Marty sighed and said, Corky, I really don’t give a damn. Sal can have it all. It doesn’t really matter to me.

Corky looked at Marty very questioningly. Even so, Corky explained, Laroni will give you what you deserve. And if I were you, I would take it.

Marty just sat there, looking at the ground. There was only one thing Marty wanted. And Marty knew deep down inside that he would fight to control it.

Marty thought about his prize and when it first became his. It was 1929. Marty still assisted Cicero with the accounts. He was a young man at the ripe old age of twenty-two. Mr. Laroni took him out on the town to celebrate his success and to show Marty his appreciation for his input and his participation. Chicago was an explosive little big town in the ’20s, and Marty had not seen much of it. The estate was approximately fifty miles out of the city, and they made trips to Chicago only for shopping and occasional dining. But that night, Laroni took Marty to all the speakeasies that he owned and also the ones he controlled. Marty knew of these places only from the monthly financial statements that he prepared quarterly with the assistance of Cicero, but never in his wildest dreams would he have ever thought they would be anything like they were. There were gambling tables all over the place, and ladies with short dresses and painted faces. Laroni stated, however, that they were not ladies. The music was loud, and there was so much activity going on that Marty’s eyes could not keep up with all of it. Being raised in a household such as Laroni’s, even if you were overwhelmed by your surroundings, you never ever showed it. So Marty played it cool, like it was no big deal.

But it was! That night they must have gone to at least six speakeasies, and then in the wee hours of early morning, Laroni took Marty down to the black section of south Chicago. In the black section, Laroni owned two speakeasies and controlled two others. When Laroni, Marty, Corky, and three armed bodyguards entered the Golden Dove Lounge, they were treated with respect, but Marty realized almost instantly this was an act. These people did what they had to do in order to stay in business. If they didn’t have to deal with Laroni, they would just as soon spit in his face, if they could get away with it. Marty immediately saw the challenge there. He wanted this! He wanted to control it. The black section clubs were the only ones that constantly had to be audited. Inventories were always being recounted. Something was always wrong with the payoffs. Marty had some ideas about keeping order down there. He would ask Laroni about keeping a closer eye on the paperwork and the staff. What Marty got after his conference with Laroni was much more than he bargained for.

Marty merely suggested a tighter tracking system for the merchandise. What Marty got was complete control of the entire black south section. Marty did not know what this meant at first, but he was enlightened very quickly by Laroni telling him that it was actually a small piece of the business that took up too much of his time already. Laroni elected Corky to be Marty’s right hand on all things and, of course, to show him the ropes. Marty and Corky would start going down into the south section and keeping an eye on all the profits from the whorehouses to the gambling houses and, of course, the speakeasies. Corky explained to Marty that there were trusted black men and women at every location who kept an eye on the cash flow. Some men were called runners. They would go to different locations for cash pickups, the whorehouses and gambling houses primarily, and bring them back to certain spots to be tallied up. Everyone got a piece of the pie. It was part of their job to see that no one got too big a slice. This was all very exciting and new to Marty, but he felt he was ready for it.

The next day, when the agreements had been finalized between Laroni, Marty, and Corky, Laroni took Marty back to Chicago, but this time, to his tailor. If Marty was going to be the new mob boss down in the south section, he was going to have to look the part. Marty had never really paid much attention to his appearance, though he felt he always looked neat and kept up with the fashion. Marty was a tall man, six feet two inches in height, with a nice build. He had dark features like his father: black hair, bronze-colored skin, and large bedroom eyes that made any woman melt after gazing into them for too long. That afternoon Laroni purchased Marty the finest silk ties, shirts, and trousers that money could buy. Marty was also fitted for six suits and three tuxedos. Marty felt like a small child set free in a candy store. It was a big thrill for him, and he loved how the tailors fussed over him and treated him like royalty. Marty felt like a prince indeed; however, Laroni still wore the king’s crown. Chilled champagne and hors d’oeuvres were brought out to them on silver platters while they looked over the accessories display. Marty picked out cufflinks of different styles and shapes, and Laroni chose a set of diamond cufflinks that would bear his initials once engraved. Just for you, he told Marty. Get used to having the best.

After the elaborate shopping spree, the gentlemen returned to the Laroni estate. Sal soon found out what had taken place and tried his best to make Marty feel like he had just taken advantage of Laroni’s good nature. But this time, it didn’t work. Marty was on cloud nine, and no one and nothing was going to bring him down! Later on that evening, Marty was about to turn in for the night when his father paid him a visit. Pedro was a little concerned about Marty’s new position in the organization. He had never wanted Marty to become involved in Laroni’s business. He hadn’t said very much when Laroni gave Marty the job of auditing and keeping track of some of the accounts. Pedro thought that Laroni was just putting some of Marty’s book learning to a real test, but now this was something entirely different. Pedro knew that once Marty was involved in this way, there was no turning back.

Marty listened to his father very respectfully, and when Pedro was finished, Marty said to him very calmly, Father, this is something I want to do. I must do it! There is something inside me that compels me to go forward with this. If I don’t do it, I know I will be miserable for not letting myself experience it. Marty looked at his father anxiously, trying to figure out what he was thinking.

Pedro just stared at Marty, holding back the anger that was beginning to swell inside him. Marty, Pedro finally said to him with the words rolling coldly from his lips, the only thing that compels you to consider being involved in something like this is the devil himself, and no one else! Eye to eye the two men gazed at each other in silence for a few moments. Then Pedro turned, leaving his son’s room. He closed the door softly behind him.

Marty had always respected his father. He always obeyed him. Whatever his father asked of him, he always complied without question. Without question up until now. This was a very strange feeling for him. He knew that this new life that he was about to embark upon was the reason for the changes in him.

Marty and Pedro never spoke about the subject again. Pedro never seemed to want to hear about how things were going. He had no interest at all when it concerned the Southside district. So Marty and Pedro talked about other things. About business he spoke only to Laroni, Corky, and Franco. In spite of all the changes, Marty and Franco were still very close. Laroni gave Franco a bakery to run in the Upper East Side of Chicago. Franco just didn’t have the heart for the rough stuff, and Laroni respected that. Franco also became very serious about an Italian girl named Maria, whose parents owned a butcher shop around the corner from the bakery. Maria was from a very respectable, dedicated Catholic family. Laroni liked them a lot. Marty felt Laroni liked Maria for Franco because she had never seen the light of day, which meant she was a virgin. Franco was still a virgin himself…really! He had been sheltered most of his life. Laroni did the honors for each one of the boys and took them to his favorite bordello when the time came for them to become men, but Franco was scared to death. Franco told Marty afterward that he was unable to get it up! The whore promised him she wouldn’t tell Laroni about the incident and that he was welcome to come back and finish the job at another more appropriate time.

Marty understood Franco and didn’t give him a hard time about it. Franco wasn’t soft. Franco was just decent and honest. It was kind of hard to imagine that Franco and Sal were from the same seed. However, Marty was glad that Franco found someone that cared for him and would take care of him. He was born into the life, but he wasn’t part of it. Marty wondered why the life suited him so. His father was more like Franco. Or was it that Franco was more like his father? How could that be? He was Pedro’s son, but he was more like Laroni’s. Why? A lot of people mistook him for being Laroni’s son. Even though he was Colombian, people thought he was Italian. He did speak the language fluently, and his dark features and tanned complexion seemed to confirm it even more.

Marty, Corky, and three trusted heavies from the Laroni clan had been running the lower Southside very successfully for close to a year when Marty’s father had his fatal heart attack and died. Marty wasn’t present when it occurred, but the household staff told him that Pedro just collapsed in the hallway after coming in from outside with freshly picked roses that he had just cut for the vase in the foyer. Margarita, one of the maids, discovered him. One of the gardeners and a helper from the kitchen carried him back to his room. Someone called the doctor, but Pedro was dead. Marty’s heart was heavy for a long time after his father’s death. He blamed himself. He cursed himself for not being there. Laroni was exceptionally supportive of Marty during this time, and the two men grew even closer. This infuriated Sal to the point that he thought his head would explode. On a softer note, Franco and Maria grew closer in their relationship as well.

Sal had no reason to feel intimidated by his father’s relationship with Marty. Laroni gave him a nice section of prime gambling houses in the Upper East Side of Chicago. Sal had the Upper East Side to reign in, and from the reputation he was building, Sal got his respect. He was hardcore and ruthless and could be quite a ladies’ man when he wanted to be. Women found him attractive. He could have his pick of any one of them, any time and any place he chose. Laroni was also proud and very supportive of Sal’s accomplishments. He spoke highly of him to his associates. The problem with Sal was just Sal. He was ambitious and extremely greedy. He wanted all the money, all the women, and all the respect from others, and last but not least, all of Laroni. It was the only reason that Sal had for despising Marty, other than the fact that Laroni cared for him. Marty never did one solitary thing to Sal to make the man hate him as he did. Sal tried constantly to end Laroni and Marty’s close relationship. He told lies about Marty and tried to derail him in Laroni’s eyes every chance he got, but Laroni was wise to him. He never took anything Sal said regarding Marty to heart.

All the mourners had left the grave site. The only persons remaining were Marty, Corky, two bodyguards, and four gravediggers. The gravediggers just stood momentarily with their shovels in hand, thinking that Marty and Corky would be leaving with the other mourners. But one of the bodyguards made a gesture to the gravediggers to proceed. They would be performing in front of an audience today. Marty and Corky got up from their seats and walked a few yards away from the grave site. The gravediggers proceeded to clear off the lot. Marty and Corky hung around until the coffin was buried and the grave marker and stone confirmed Laroni’s eternal resting place.

Marty stood alongside the grave, casting a longing, lost look at the headstone. Tears rolled down his cheek. Marty waited all day for this private moment. To let it out at last was such a relief for him. He was alone now, truly alone, and he felt it. As he stood above Laroni’s grave, looking down, he felt a hand rest upon his shoulder. It was Corky. Corky sensed how Marty was feeling. He knew what lay ahead for this young man; he did not envy him. All he knew was that he would be there. Corky had known Sal since he was a child. He hadn’t liked him then, and he truly despised him now. He only dealt with him because of his father. And Nick was no longer in charge.

Marty looked at Corky with a face of divine hurt, loneliness, and fear. Then Marty smiled. Corky was completely taken aback by it. Marty smiled again, even wider. That Marty smile! The one that made you just light up with cheer. The one that just warmed you all over and made you think everything would be all right.

Corky, Marty said, don’t breathe a word about this to anyone, or I’ll have your Irish hide.

Corky smiled back at Marty. Tears rolled down his cheeks now. He began to weep heavily, and his body shook from his sobs. Marty embraced him, and the two men wept in each other’s arms for a moment. Marty released Corky but kissed him lightly on both cheeks. Marty pointed a finger at Corky and said, Got ya! The two men slowly began to walk away from the newly occupied grave. The three bodyguards were leaning against the limo, softly chatting among themselves.

They witnessed the two men embracing each other, but not the tears they shed. That had been personal between the two of them. Over the years, Marty and Corky would share many personal things and secrets for their eyes, ears, and hearts only.

For the rest of the day, mourners came and went from the Laroni estate. Marty, along with Sal and Franco, greeted them, fed them, hugged, kissed, and thanked them. Sal was not what you would call warm toward Marty, but he was at least cordial.

Later that evening, Marty sneaked down to the maid’s quarters to visit with Margarita. Margarita, like Marty and his father, was from Colombia. Laroni offered her a similar proposition to Pedro’s to come to America, only hers had included bedroom favors. Margarita was extremely attractive. She had long black hair that hung down to her waistline and dark brown skin, large brown eyes, and a figure that sent chills down most men’s spines when they looked at her. Margarita had this effect on Marty as well. Though Marty had been sexually educated in the best of Laroni’s bordellos, being with Margarita was like being home. They shared a kind of comfort, a familiarity. Over the years, Marty and Margarita had sneaked away many times to enjoy each other sexually. There was no love involved according to Marty, but deep inside, his heart he knew Margarita loved him. He was, however, very fond of her also. She was his friend. She was about as close to him as Franco and Corky, but in a different way.

Margarita saw Marty’s tender side, his gentleness. She knew that Marty could be a crude and very tough customer to deal with if he was crossed, but he never let her see that side of him. Margarita loved Marty’s short visits to her room. She loved the way he made love to her. He was so very gentle with his touches to her body, but at the same time, he was very masculine. While he made love to her, he would whisper sweet things in her ear about Colombia and how they would return there one day. She wanted so very much to return to Colombia to show everyone there how successful she had become. She wanted to hold the hand of Marty Kavrone and parade through the streets of Bogota, wearing beautiful clothing, head held high, and feel the piercing, envious eyes of the people upon her. Margarita dreamed and wished this to come true many times, but she knew Marty didn’t love her in that way. She knew that she was just a piece of very convenient ass! Laroni took her whenever he liked, Sal occasionally, but Marty was the only one she felt anything for. Margarita was grateful for the friendship that she shared with Marty. Marty made her feel comfortable in a strange land; maybe one day he would take her home.

During Marty’s visit this evening, he was kind of quiet and deep in thought. For a long while, Marty just held Margarita’s naked body in his arms and stroked and caressed her buttocks. Margarita asked him about the funeral service and how everything had gone. She was unable to attend because she had to remain at the estate and prepare for the mourners’ arrival after the services. Marty said very little other than the fact that everything went the way it should have. Marty looked into Margarita’s eyes and brought her mouth up to meet his by gently raising her chin. Marty kissed her deeply and then made passionate love to her. Margarita’s body shook with ecstasy, and she moaned uncontrollably. She knew Marty was a good lover, but tonight he was the best he had ever been. Margarita wondered what was troubling him. She dared not ask him. Marty never discussed his business affairs with her, but Margarita could always tell when something was bothering him. He made love best when he was troubled.

The next afternoon, all the Laroni clan assembled at the estate. Lunch was served out on the terrace, and afterward they all gathered in the meeting room and seated themselves at the large round table to hear Nick Laroni’s testimonial. Nick’s attorney, Henry Giancino, was seated at the head of the table. Once he began reading the instructions, no one appeared to be the least bit surprised that Nick left his territories to Sal. Sal would now control the biggest portion of the Laroni dynasty. No one seemed bothered by it much except Stacey Callasimo and Pete Cicero.

Stacey was Nick’s right hand man. He helped Nick maintain and control all his territory for over fifteen years. He felt that some piece of this profit should be his. He had the respect and cooperation of every hood, businessman, hit man, and gangster in all Chicago. He felt that Sal would mess up the operation and destroy the trust among their allies. Most of all, he personally did not like taking orders from Sal. Stacey held his tongue during the meeting, but everyone present in the room knew what was going on inside his head.

When Giancino read the part of the testimonial that concerned Marty, nothing had changed. Marty would keep what was his. The lower south section was still his. The niggers still belonged to Marty, and that was the way he liked it. Franco still owned the bakery, and he was very content with that. Nick also left him a pretty handsome sum of cash to go along with it. With Maria expecting their first child, the money would come in handy.

After the reading of the testimonial, everyone left quietly, each man thinking his own private thoughts. There was a little small talk, spoken very low. Even if you were trying to eavesdrop, it would be almost impossible. The only voice that could be heard loudly and clearly was none other than Sal’s. He was a very happy gangster today. All the gold settled in his pot, and he was well-to-do. Unfortunately, he was the only one that felt that way. Marty and Corky headed straight out of the meeting room and out onto the grounds. There were three bodyguards posted at the main entrance of the mansion and three others stationed out back. Marty and Corky headed out toward the main gate. They walked up the middle of the road, savoring the peaceful countryside. The gate to the entrance of the estate was about a half mile up the road. The sun was shining, and there was a warm breeze in the air. Both men took off their jackets and threw them over their shoulders. They walked until they were well out of earshot before they began their conversation.

Neither man looked at the other; there was no need to. They focused their attention on the guardhouse at the main gate as they walked toward it. The other bosses and associates had exited the mansion and walked to their cars. Some engaged in casual conversation; some hurried to their vehicles to make a hasty getaway. Cars rolled past them as they walked along; they tipped their hats to some and waved to others.

Corky finally said to Marty, How long do you think Sal’s got?

Judging from the silent lament I sensed by the others inside, I would say not very long, Marty said to Corky, still walking.

Corky’s blank expression now turned to one of concern. Marty, Corky continued, you know Sal is going to try for you.

Marty nodded in approval. I just hope I don’t have to kill him, Corky, Marty said with a sigh. I hope Stacey or someone in Pete’s clan does it first, Marty said with distaste. Marty didn’t mind killing if it was necessary. He just didn’t like killing his own. He didn’t care for Sal, but Sal was one of his own. Like family. He meant nothing to Marty, but he was part of the Laroni family.

Marty and Corky walked almost to the gate, then turned and walked slowly back to the house. They entered through the grand double front doors and went directly to the bar where they poured two shot glasses full of Scotch whisky and sat down to enjoy an afternoon swig. One of the housekeepers walked into the bar to see if Marty and Corky needed anything prepared for them. Marty declined and thanked her. He asked the housekeeper, whose name was Dolores, if she knew where Margarita was. Dolores lowered her eyes and told him that she was downstairs with Sal. Marty began to fume. He knew how much Margarita hated being with Sal. Sal knew it all too well himself. He just liked making her life miserable. He liked taking advantage of Margarita because he knew she despised him. Marty sat there savoring the taste of Scotch on his lips and thinking about Sal’s undeniable destiny.

Sal, your days are numbered, Marty thought to himself. And, Margarita, your true freedom will follow.The Laroni mansion would be sold, of course, after Sal was dead. That was only a matter of time. His death would have to come soon before he had the opportunity to botch things up too badly. It would be Sal’s fault, however. He always wanted to make changes too quickly, without thinking things through. And he didn’t mind stepping on toes, even if they turned out to be the wrong ones to step on. If he was left in power too long, he could possibly destroy some very good business connections that would affect a lot of people in the organization. Marty figured Sal had about a week to live, maybe less. He sat there thinking about life without Sal, and he began to grin. Corky saw the sudden change in attitude. He didn’t ask any questions. He already knew what was on Marty’s mind. He could hardly wait himself. The only bad part was Franco. Even though Sal was a dick most of the time, and Franco knew it, Sal was still Franco’s brother, unfortunately, his only brother.

While Marty and Corky sat there, drinking and thinking about life without Sal, Franco was at home with Maria, thinking about the same thing. He knew his brother stepped on a lot of toes and offended many people. Now that Nick was out of the picture, there was no one left to protect him. Sure, there were a couple of heavies and a few loyal bodyguards that would go down with Sal, but no one of any great importance that would really make a difference. This was one time that Franco truly regretted how Sal treated Marty. Marty ruled the lower Southside district, not much of a threat to anyone, but he was highly respected by everyone throughout the organization, and an appeal from him on Sal’s behalf would hold a lot of weight. Marty definitely had the power to save Sal’s ass, but Franco knew he wouldn’t do it, nor could he ask the favor of him. Asking Marty to save Sal would be like asking him to write his own death certificate. Franco knew that if Sal were permitted to live, he would eventually have Marty taken out sometime in the near future. Franco hated what was about to happen, but he knew there was no way he could stop it. Sal had written his own destiny long before Pop ever died.

Marty sat at the bar, stirring his Scotch with the tip of his finger. He thought about Sal and Margarita making love: Sal pounding his large throbbing cock into Margarita’s unwilling vagina. He suddenly became aroused at the thought of it. It aroused him to the point of having to shift slightly in his chair to accommodate the growing desire in his slacks.

He looked over at Corky, who was turning up his shot glass to swallow the last bit of Scotch in the bottom, and said, Corky, I think I’d like to take a ride out to the lower end to see how things are going. You want to come along for the ride?

Sure, boss, Corky replied.

The two men left the mansion without looking back. This was the end of it! Marty felt it. He knew that he had probably laid eyes on Sal for the last time. It didn’t sadden him, and it didn’t make him happy. He did not want to look at the house, because it held too many personal and precious memories for him. He spent a lot of happy times there. Memories of Franco, his father, and Nick flooded his thoughts for a moment. He quickly blinked them away along with the lump that settled in his throat.

Marty planned immediately to start looking for a house to accommodate his needs. Nothing extravagant, just something simple. He liked to be comfortable; that was his main reason for holding on to the lower south section. There was indeed money to be made there, but not enough for someone to become extremely rich and powerful. The four speakeasies Marty owned netted him about $800,000 a year. He was satisfied with that. He wanted nothing more, at least not monetarily.

Marty and Corky rolled up in front of the Chelsea an hour later. The street from corner to corner was very active. From the Chelsea, Marty could look down Fortieth Street and see his three other clubs. Even in the late afternoon, men and women could be seen strolling in and out of them. Yes, it was a good and profitable business. Marty enjoyed it! This was indeed his life. He could see a couple