Everyone in the little bistro stopped what they were doing when the four men came in. Three of them wearing expensive tracksuits with golden Rolexes. You could see they were connected from outer space. The man at the helm was wearing a tailored suit and a nice looking jacket over it. He stood out as the more serious of the group, higher up it looked like it. The group of men walked to the most further corner of the small establishment. The one secluded behind some decorative plants and shrubbery.
“Sit,” The man in the suit ordered the others.
A fat mobster in a white tracksuit sat opposite of the suited man. The two others sat on both sides.
“Should we cute to the deal now or order first?” The suited man asked.
“I’ll order. I’m fucking starving,” The fat man against him responded and waved down a waiter.
The waiter came and took their orders, nodded politely and hurried back with drinks. The conversation was rather dull at the table, business and the old ways the only things discussed. After a 20 minute wait the waiter came with the meals prepared, saying goodbye to some leaving customers.
He put pasta in front of all the mobsters except the suited man who had lasagna.
“Enjoy your meal,” Said the waiter. “I hope it’s just how you expected it,” He said left with a smile.
The fat mobster dove right in and started eating. Taking sips of wine and stuffing his mouth, “So, the business?” He mumbled, pieces of food falling out of his mouth.
“The deal here Tony is simple. You did an unsanctioned hit on another man’s soldier.”
Tony, the fat mobster, hit his hand on the table, “I had my fucking reasons. The fucker was skimming on my turf.”
“I promised I would deal with that myself,” The man on the left joined in…
“Silence, Sammie. Please,” The man in the suit yelled and turned back to Tony, “You fucked up big-time. The only reason why you’re here using that mouth of yours is because boss has history with you.”
“Oh, spare me the fucking bullshit!” Tony said.
“You’re a fucking prick.”
Tony stopped chewing, laid down his fork. His face changed expression and his eyes flashed with murderous rage, “I resent that Louie. Very fucking much.”
Louise chuckled, “You can resent it seven ways to fucking Sunday. Doesn’t change the fact you are a prick,” Tony wanted to say something but kept silent, “This is the deal. Sammie wants ‘S&L Construction’ as reparations.”
Tony almost choked on his food and spat some out, “Are you fucking crazy? You really think I’ll say yes?”
“The kid was a good fucking earner—” Sammie said.
“Shut up. Now listen Tony. This is the only move you have left. We came here light. No one packing. This is a negotiation and we want both sides to agree.”
Tony laughed his words off, “Negotiation. It’s a fucking shakedown, is what this is. I’m no fucking jibone. No way I’m giving him that racket.” As he spoke his words Tony took a look around the bistro and found only a handful of people were left. Two wise-guys slumped over a drink, some old geezer on the other side of the room, the waiter, owner and his wife. Suddenly Tony knew what was coming.
He put the fork down and wiped his mouth clean, “So that’s how it is. No one is packing. Who’ll do the hit then? Someone waiting outside? Huh?”
Everyone stayed silent.
“I’m not taking the deal,” He said. “Forget about it,” Tony took a beat. “Yeah, and fuck you. All of yous.”
Louie sighed and looked down on his still untouched piece of lasagna on the plate. He reached for it and slid his hand in between the layers. Others just looked on in surprise. Louie took out his hand from the piece of lasagna, now all strewn around and pointed a small, snub nose gun. The gun still covered in tomato juice, cheese and pieces of meat. He cocked the gun slowly knowing Tony won’t run.
“No, Tony. Fuck you, you fat fucking fuck.”
The gun went off a couple of times, hitting Tony squarely in the face, blowing off bone in the back of his head and destroying what used to be his nose and eyes. Tony slumped over and dropped right into the plate of pasta. The red liquid quickly spread across the white table and down the floor. The two other men remained unmoved.
Louie took out a cellphone and speed dialed. He waited a few moments before a voice appeared on the other line, “It’s done. The whale has been beached,” he said and hung up.