Free The Dame Did It by Joel Jenkins Page A

Gia. After taking out the
last of Gambino’s guards before he could kill Fido, she threw the
gun to the floor and ran to the fallen Ira’s side. She found that
he was wounded badly, but not fatally. Nevertheless, she could see
that he needed medical attention right away.
    Cradling her bleeding lover in her arms, she
turned to the cowering employees peeking out of the kitchen door.
“Well, what the hell are you idiots waiting for, the sun to go
down? One of you get on the horn and call a goddamned
ambulance!”
    Shakily nodding her head in compliance, one
of the waitresses ran into the break room where the phone was
located. She knew that ignoring a direct order from the female
dispenser of mayhem before her was even more unthinkable than the
tableau she had just witnessed.
    As tears poured out of her eyes, Gia
continued to hold Ira while doing her best to slow his blood loss.
“Hold on, honey, an ambulance is on its way,” she told him. He
gritted his teeth and nodded his head in acknowledgement.
    She then looked up as the sullen-faced Fido
walked up to her. “Thank you for saving my life, Miss Gia. Your
papa would be proud.”
    “Papa is dead!” she screamed at Fido. “Look!
He’s dead! Oh my god, he’s dead!”
    Fido turned and noticed the body of Gino
Provenzo strewn on the floor amidst the several other corpses, a
pool of his blood darkening the white tile along with their own.
“I’m sorry I failed ya, Boss,” he solemnly lamented.
    * * *
    A few days following the funeral of Gino Provenzo,
the expected important meeting in regards to the future of the
family business was planned. Gino’s nephew, Al “The Pain” Provenzo,
a rugged young man with a “take no prisoners” reputation earned
from his work as a lieutenant for the New York City faction of the
family business, had flown down to Buffalo to preside over the
meeting. The meeting was being conducted in a rented section of a
West Side community center. The building was now bereft of any
family-related occupant save the staff cook, Peter; and Pete knew
better than to say anything to anyone, considering his debts.
    Al stood in front of a table addressing the
large assortment of the Buffalo Provenzo Family’s enforcers,
lieutenants, bookkeepers, attorneys, and security guards. Fido sat
at the head of the table where the security group was seated,
bearing a dejected countenance as he listened to Al’s speech.
    “This is a difficult time for all of us,” Al
said in a convincingly melancholic voice. “My Uncle Gino was a good
guy… he totally earned his nickname, ‘The World’s Greatest.’ But
he’s gone now, thanks to the two-timing treachery of Vito Gambino.
Vito and his entire family are going to pay for this, and I’m here
to make sure that happens. Out of respect to my uncle’s memory and
the huge successful business he built here in the Queen City, I ask
all of you to join me in defending the legacy he has left for the
business.”
    “Damn straight we’re gonna do that!” decreed
a somewhat husky female voice that emanated from the entrance door.
“Only it’s gonna be me who leads the way, not you, Al.”
    Taken aback by that bold pronouncement and
identifiably feminine voice, Al turned around. There he saw his
cousin Gia standing in the doorway, with Ira at her side despite
his left arm being in a sling. This time, however, she wasn’t
wearing one of her characteristic bias dresses; she was wearing an
expensive beige leather trench coat over a white button down blouse
and a dark flannel skirt, with not a single flower design on it.
Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and the top of her head
was adorned with a gray pub cap. Every eye in the room was focused
on her, the men of a traditional persuasion finding her both
incredibly alluring as well as dynamically business-like and
“tough.”
    “Oh, hi, Cousin Gia,” Al stuttered. “I
didn’t expect to see you here.”
    “Of course ya didn’t,” she replied.