The Backlist: A Bricks & Cam Job, #1

By Frank Zafiro and Eric Beetner

A Bricks & Cam Job #1

 

When the mob finds itself on hard times and has to lay people off, the boss decides to give two different hitters separate lists of "overdue accounts" — a backlist — to see who distinguishes themselves enough to remain on the payroll. The sharp-tongued Bricks and the hapless, eager to please Cam find themselves faced with challenges they never imagined when they got into the business.

 

But there's no other choice than to settle out the names on… The Backlist.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Code 4 Press
• Release date: Apr 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9798223212027

Frank Zafiro

Frank Zafiro was a police officer from 1993 to 2013. He is the author of more than two dozen crime novels. In addition to writing, Frank is an avid hockey fan and a tortured guitarist. He lives in Redmond, Oregon.  

Book preview

One

Bricks

Getting in to see the old man used to be easier.

Actually, it was even easier to get face time with his old man, but I guess it isn’t really fair to make comparisons. I was still wearing pigtails and a training bra when Saverio was the boss. Not exactly a major security threat. Add to that the fact that I was always with my pops, who Saverio trusted in more ways than one, including with his life.

So I guess I shouldn’t judge Salvatore too harshly. He inherited the big chair at a time when any pretense of omerta was out the door, and when the family started making sure its soldiers remained loyal through pretty simple means: if you turned rat, they killed your whole family. It was old school Sicilian. It was harsh. And it was effective. There wasn’t a single made guy who turned state’s evidence in the decade Sal’s been the boss. So that’s something ya gotta respect.

Still, getting through the gauntlet of doors and sides of beef wearing cheap suits just to see him was a pain in the ass. And he summoned me. It’s not like I was just showing up trying to sell magazine subscriptions.

Finally, I made it into the waiting area outside his office. Bruno Taggliarti stood next to the door, his giant arms crossed over his chest. He looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and disdain, two words I’d be impressed if he knew.

Be a minute, he grunted at me.

I shrugged and took a seat. As if he knew the old man’s schedule anyway. Besides, I knew there was a pin-sized camera just above the door. When Sal was ready for me, his consigliere, Max, would come out and get me. Bruno would get the news same time I did.

The waiting area was quiet for a few moments except for the sound of Bruno’s labored breathing. Christ, I’d hate to hear what he sounded like after doing anything strenuous, like opening a door or reaching down to tie his shoes.

Tell me something, Bricks, Bruno said.

What’s that?

You a dyke or what?

I fixed him with a flat stare. Why, Bruno? You cruising for a piece of ass?

Always, he said, his tone becoming affable.

I shook my head and looked away. These guys, every one of them thinks if you won’t sleep with them, the only possible reason is because you’re gay. Couldn’t have anything to do with them being slobs.

Seriously, though, he said.

No.

No, you ain’t a dyke?

No, I won’t sleep with you.

So I suppose a blowjob is out of the question? He gave me a meaty smile.

I was already tired of this jousting, but sometimes I think Sal has it set up to be part of the price of admission. You want to see the boss? Well, you gotta put up with Bruno’s bullshit at the door. And don’t pussy out, either.

Why do you care? I asked him. You doing a dissertation?

A disser-what?

Christ.

Why do you care, Bruno?

He shrugged. Just wonderin’. I mean, you got the look, right?

What look is that?

Short hair. Kinda stocky. And you don’t dress like no girl, neither.

Sounds like you got it all figured out.

Bruno scratched his fat cheek. Yeah, not really. I got, like, you know, suspicions. It ain’t a for sure. Which is why I’m asking. So, whaddaya say?

I say I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last man on earth.

He gave me a knowing look and wagged his finger at me. But if I had tits...?

Take a look in the mirror, jerk off. You’re a B cup, easy.

He frowned. Why can’t you just answer a straight question, Bricks?

Same reason you can’t see your own dinger.

He gave me a confused look.

Because you’re a fat asshole, I said, helping him out.

He sighed. Gotta be a carpet muncher with that attitude, he said, half to me and half for the record. Man hater, right?

The door opened. Max DaCosta stepped into the room. His tailored suit was such a sharp contrast to Bruno’s ill-fitting excuse for one that it almost made me squint in pain.

Problem here? Max asked Bruno, his tone quiet but authoritative.

No, sir, Bruno answered immediately. He didn’t exactly snap a salute but I was pretty sure he straightened his posture when he spoke.

Max turned to me, his eyebrow arched.

No problem, I said. Bruno and I were just talking a little anthropology.

Max glanced back to Bruno. Impressive. Then he waved me inside. Mr. Giordano is ready for you, Paula.

I rose and followed him into the old man’s office.

Salvatore Giordano was what you’d call a traditionalist. In an age when most of his peers wore track suits and played video games most of the day, Sal was old school. He dressed well, he had manners, and he believed in loyalty. His pops taught him all three things, if you ask me, but where do any of us learn our most important lessons, right?

Bricks! Sal said, giving me a smile as he stood. Good to see you.

You, too, I said.

Sal came around from behind his desk, opening his arms to me. I leaned in. He took me firmly by the upper arms and brushed a kiss on first one cheek, then the other. His skin smelled of expensive cologne, but was rough and scraped against mine.

Please, have a seat, Sal said, releasing me. You want something to drink?

No, I’m good. I sat in the plush leather chair in front of Sal’s desk.

No? You sure?

Positive.

Sal returned to his own seat, settling in. Max took a chair off to the side.

We sat in silence, me waiting, and Sal just watching me. I had the uncomfortable sense that he was deciding something right then, and I didn’t like it.

How long you been with me, Bricks? he finally asked.

I’ve been with the family all my life. Couldn’t hurt to remind him of that, especially with the odd vibe I was suddenly getting. My pops used to bring me in here when your old man had that chair.

He smiled but the warmth didn’t reach his eyes. Ah, yeah. The good old days, he said with a light chuckle that quickly faded. You know, having you do what you do for me, it’s kind of strange. Something they call a contradiction in terms. He spoke the last part slowly, like it would be a concept I had never heard of or wouldn’t get.

How’s that?

He motioned toward me. Look at you. You’re a woman.

Last time I checked, anyway.

How many women you figure get used as button men?

I’m guessing zero.

Exactly. Zilch. But my old man, he had a soft spot for yours, so here you are.

I didn’t mention how my pops also got pinched taking care of a particularly messy problem for Saverio, and how he went to prison for it. How he didn’t utter a word to the cops the entire time, even after he got the cancer. How he took every single secret he had to his grave.

I didn’t mention it because it was Sal’s mess that my pops was cleaning up. So while the loyalty he showed to the family was understood, it was also an unpleasant reminder that even Sal fucks up sometimes.

He leaned back in his chair, appraising me. Still, I gotta admit, there’s another reason I kept you on the payroll. You know why that is?

Yes.

His eyebrows shot up. Yeah? What, then?

I deliver. Then, because I can’t leave well enough alone, I added, Just like my pops did before me.

To his credit, Sal didn’t frown or otherwise react. He just nodded slowly. That’s right. You deliver. Like the Federal fucking Express.

We were quiet again for a few moments. Then I asked, Is this about a job, then?

Sal never gave me my assignments directly. Usually, I met with Max at some diner somewhere and he gave me a packet with everything I needed to know. The money came after. I paid my own expenses.

Sal sighed, and glanced over at Max, giving him a little nod. Max stood and motioned for me to do the same.

Confused, I stood up.

Max held his arms straight out to the side, miming me to follow suit. If you please.

Then I understood. Christ, you think I’m wired?

Just a precaution, Max said.

I shook my head in disbelief. In a million years, I wouldn’t even think to do something like that. I looked over at Sal. I’m my father’s daughter, Sal, just like you are your father’s son.

I know, he said. But what’s the old saying? Trust, but verify.

You’re quoting Russian proverbs now?

His eyes narrowed. I thought Reagan said that.

I turned back to Max, holding my arms out to the side. Go ahead, I said. I don’t even have my pistola. Your guy at the front door took it.

Max stepped forward. He ran his hands over my body, searching me with a light but firm touch. He was efficient and thorough, checking everywhere. Still, I was glad it was him doing the search instead of Bruno. That was something, at least.

When he’d finished, he gave me a curt, almost kindly nod, but there was no hint of apology in it. Then he motioned toward my chair, and returned to his own.

I sat down, took a huge breath, and let it out. Sal sat, watching me. You want to tell me what’s going on? I asked.

Sal reached out for a gold colored pen on his desk, toying with it while he considered my question. Finally, he said, I’ll cut right to it, Bricks. Times are tough.

I knew that. It’d been four months since my last assignment and six months since the one before that. I guess it was a good thing I lived cheap and knew how to budget.

You know, with the economy and all that? Sal continued. Well, it affects our business, too. We’re like a corporation, just like GM or Ford or IBM. We deal in what they call fiscal realities.

Slow and steady on the last two words again, like I was a moron. I suppressed the frustration, not wanting to let it show on my face. This guy might have his doctorate in Mafioso 101 but I’ll bet he didn’t know that in between doing jobs for him, I managed to get a real degree from a real college.

And he didn’t need to know, either, I reminded myself. Just like he didn’t need to see how much his condescension pissed me off.

I sat stoically, and waited.

These fiscal realities are forcing me to make some hard decisions. Decisions my old man never would have imagined possible in his time.

You declaring bankruptcy? I blurted.

Oops.

Sal scowled. Don’t be a wise ass, Bricks. It ain’t attractive.

Like I gave two shakes about what he found attractive or not. But I did care about leaving this office alive and staying that way afterward, so I buttoned up.

Sal sighed, and let the scowl diminish. Actually, it ain’t that far from the truth. We’re gonna have to downsize our operation.

Downsize?

Yeah.

How much?

Sal looked over to Max. I followed his gaze.

Significantly, the consigliere said.

I waited for more, but Max simply sat quietly and said nothing.

Yeah, so here’s what significantly means, Sal continued. It means I don’t really need more than one button man these days.

Oh, Christ. I was being laid off by the mafia.

You’re kidding, I said.

Sal shook his head. No. Dead serious.

I almost laughed at that. Then I wondered how in the hell I was going to file for unemployment, and the desire to laugh out loud doubled. I pressed my lips together to hold it inside.

The thing is, Sal said, we’re gonna try to do this honorably. You know, in a way my old man would’ve been proud of? So we’re gonna license a few people to start their own families in other cities if they want. Other people we’ll give a nice severance package. Some people have already got their legit business for laundry purposes, so they can get by on that. It’ll work out.

That sounded like something Sal told himself so that his father’s ghost didn’t haunt his dreams at night, but I kept that inside, too.

But, Sal said, holding up a finger. There are a few loose ends. Some things that need to be tidied up.

Like?

Like a couple of guys who know too much. Guys who we know won’t keep their mouths shut once they get cut loose. Guys who fucked some things up to help put us in this situation. Things like that. They’ve been on the backlist for a while, but now we gotta move on things, so their number’s up.

A picture of where this was going started to form in my mind. And that’s where I come in?

Sal smiled that same empty smile he’d flashed at me when I came in. Always the smart one, Bricks.

I shrugged. It didn’t take a genius.

Yeah, Sal said. That is where you come in. I’ve got three of these loose ends that need taking care of. You take care of them, you not only get paid, but I keep you on as what they call an independent contractor.

Christ.

So, capisce?

I thought about it, more for form’s sake than anything else. I didn’t have a choice, and we both knew it. If I refused, I became another loose end. I had to say yes, and decide later if I wanted to follow through or blow town.

Like that was even an option. What kind of work was I going to get with experience as a hit man and a degree in philosophy?

Dishwasher, that’s what.

What about your other buttons? I asked.

Sal gave me a frank, even stare. I’m asking you to do this. Because of your old man and mine, truth be told.

And because I always deliver.

And that.

Well, I guess that settles it, then.

Sal flashed his insincere smile again. I knew I could count on you. Max will be in touch with the details in a day or so.

I stood up. So did Max. Sal didn’t.

This has to be taken care of as quickly as you can, Max said quietly. We can’t begin our downsizing measures until all three issues are resolved.

I understand.

Max gave me a look I couldn’t quite interpret and didn’t really like. Then he escorted me to the door, and I found myself standing next to Bruno the mouth breather again.

Bruno asked me something about eating pussy, but I didn’t catch all of it and didn’t answer. Instead, I made my way back the way I’d come. It was much easier leaving than it had been arriving.

Two

Cameron

I remember the first time I got past the second set of doors. It was my first meeting with the big man, Saverio. The day I was invited in.

It helped that my Uncle Rocco was high in the ranks of the organization, but I swear that wasn’t the only reason they took me in. Since that day more than ten years ago I’ve proven myself, same way I had for seven years before that meeting.

Shit jobs, boring jobs, muscle jobs, whack jobs, even. I do it all. I’m a triple threat. The all-arounder. The utility man.

Christ, it gets goddamn tedious sometimes.

But now I was being invited back inside. To the room where good things happen. Promotions. Sure, Saverio is long gone, but if I made it past the outer set of doors, something was up.

Little did I know.

The regular guys were there. Mikey and his cousin Leo. Everyone called him Big Mike, but I’d known Mikey since we were both virgins on the prowl so I never called him anything but. Even when he started giving me the orders. And now he was sitting in the big office? What gives? I knew it didn’t mean he’d jumped up the ranks that high. He was a guest here. Holding meetings in the safest place there was. Away from prying eyes, bugs, and snitches.

It didn’t bode well for whatever this meeting was about, but all I could think about was how it was Mikey and not me sitting behind that desk. I guess being a nephew of Rocco’s only got me so far to the front of the line. And in this business, blood is thicker than just about anything. Even Rocco’s own wife’s gravy.

Leo, he never says a thing. Just sits there while Mikey gives me my assignment. So Mikey does all the talking again. I think he could see the disappointment on my face. Soon as I saw him and not someone higher up, I knew this wasn’t my big break.

It ain’t good news, Cam, he said.

No shit.

Why? What’s up?

Things... He sighed and leaned back in his borrowed chair like the weight of the world was on him. Things ain’t what they fuckin’ used to be.

Tell me something I don’t know.

I was trying to keep it light. Mikey was sitting there like two tons of bricks.

He told me why. Things were ugly up top. Somebody broke ranks. One of the bigs.

He turn states or something? I asked.

Worse, Mikey said.

He flipped sides. Took a dozen guys with him and all the business they ran. Florida guys. Bastards. The short story was that things were tough all over. The shit had hit the fan and all of us in that room were standing downwind.

So what do we do about it? I asked.

Cutting back, Mikey said. Big time.

I