Free The Family Corleone by Ed Falco Page A

who he is, don’t give a shit. But I do, Bobby. You see?”
    Cork said, “I don’t know if I do.”
    “I’ll make it simple,” Hooks said. “Stay away from Mariposa’s goods. And if you steal from him again, stay away from us. Now you understand?”
    “Sure,” Cork said, “but how come the big change? Before you were—”
    “Before I was doing Jimmy’s wife’s little brother a favor. Mariposa’s at war with the LaContis, so I figured a couple of shipments of hooch get lost in the shuffle, who’s noticing? And if anybody notices, they figure LaConti. That’s not the way things worked out, though. The way things are now, Joe knows somebody’s stealing from him, he don’t like it, and somebody’s gotta pay. Right now, nobody knows you. If you’re as smart as I hear you are, you’ll keep it that way.” Hooks stood back and opened his arms. “I can’t make it any clearer,” he said. “Be smart. Stay away from Mariposa. No matter what, though, stay away from us.”
    “Okay,” Cork said. “Sure. But what if Luca comes to me? What if he wants me to—”
    “That won’t happen,” Hooks said. “Don’t worry about it.” He took a pack of Luckies from his jacket pocket and offered one to Cork. Cork took it and Hooks lit it for him, and then lit his own. Behind them, the rest of Luca’s gang ambled off the street and back into the garage. “How’s Eileen?” he asked. “Jimmy was a good egg. How’s the little girl? What’s her name?”
    “Caitlin,” Bobby said. “She’s fine.”
    “And Eileen?” Hooks asked.
    “She’s all right,” Bobby said. “She’s a little tougher than she used to be.”
    “Being a widow before you’re thirty will do that to you. You tell her for me,” Hooks said, “I’m still looking for the son of a bitch that killed Jimmy.”
    “It was a riot,” Bobby said.
    “Bullshit,” Hooks said. “I mean, sure it was a riot,” he added, “but it was one of Mariposa’s goons that killed him. Just tell your sister,” he said. “Tell her Jimmy’s not forgotten by his friends.”
    “I’ll tell her.”
    “All right.” Hooks looked around and asked, “Where’d your boys go?”
    “They’ll be waiting for me on the corner,” Cork said. “Can’t see nothin’ with the streetlight out.”
    “Got a driver coming by to pick you up?” When Cork didn’tanswer, Hooks laughed and patted him on the shoulder before he went back into the garage.
    Cork moved slowly along the sidewalk, navigating through the dark toward the sound of voices. When he reached the corner, he saw the red glow of two cigarettes burning, and as he approached closer, he found Sonny and Nico sitting on the bottom steps of a rickety wooden stoop. Behind them, several floors of tenement windows were dark. The mist had turned into a drizzle again, and drops of water were clinging to Nico’s cap. Sonny was bareheaded. He ran his hand through his hair and shook off the rainwater.
    Cork said, “What are you doing sitting in the rain?”
    “Got tired of listenin’ to Stevie bumpin’ his gums,” Nico said.
    “He’s complaining about the deal.” Sonny stood and turned his back to the car, which was parked against the curb on the other side of the street. “He thinks we got robbed.”
    “We did,” Cork said. He looked around Sonny, across the street. In the car, the red tips of cigarettes moved around, making loops and swirls. The windows were partially open and a shimmer of smoke drifted up past the rain-streaked roof. “That pickup was almost new. We should have got a couple grand more, easy.”
    “So?” Sonny made a face that said,
Why didn’t we?
    “What do you want to do?” Cork said. “Call the coppers?”
    Sonny laughed at that, and Nico said, “Brasi had a point. He’s the one’s got to deal with Mariposa. I’d rather take less money and stay alive longer.”
    Sonny said, “He’s not saying anything about us to anybody, right?”
    “Yeah, sure,” Cork said.