Frank Zafiro - Blood on Blood

“You’re welcome,” I said, though I didn’t feel it. I should’ve known he paid the Irish, but I guess you miss a few things when you’re on the grill and busy banging the waitress.

That made me think of Connie. I turned toward the kitchen. She stood near the doorway, her cell phone perched in her hand. I could see the question on her face. Should she call 9-1-1? But it’d been over too fast.

I looked back at Eddie and shrugged. “I’ll see you tomorrow, boss.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “See you tomorrow.”

I headed back toward the kitchen and the alley exit, because this time I wanted to walk past Connie. I wanted to smell her perfume. I wanted her to smell the sweat on me. Let her know some regret. Because I knew full well who was going to be looking for a job in a few days, and it wasn’t me.

“Say hi to Steve for me, baby,” I said as I swept by her. I continued through the doors to the kitchen and out the alley exit before she could answer.

Jerzy

As we’re weaving through the backroom and small kitchen on our way to Patrik’s office, I notice not too much has changed back here, either. Except the big bodies. Lots of muscle around every corner.

Like the bar and main room out front, the hallways are long and low. The lighting is bad and if I hadn’t been here a million times, I’d be bumping into walls and corners.

We make a left and down on the end of the hallway will be Patrik’s office, right across from the old man’s. The music is muffled now but thumping away all the while and it sure sounds like K.C. singing about how that’s the way, uh huh, uh huh, he likes it. I mean, I got Polish blood in me and all, but sweet Jesus, what the fuck with this music?

Uh huh, Uh huh. Thump, thump. Hey, I guess it’s better than the shines with their fuckin’ rap or the micks with their stupid ass jigs.

I can see that a monster with a flat square face and crew cut is standing down there waiting for us. I nod at him. He just looks at me like I’m a rib eye steak and he hasn’t eaten in a week. While Patrik is unlocking his office door, I look over at the closed door of old man Ambrozy’s office.

“Ambrose ever make it in here anymore?”

“Naw Jerz, not too much….not too much. Ambrose is old and tired. Tato, he is old school and he just doesn’t like the way the world is now. He gave the business end of it up, gave me the reins so to speak. We’re up against some shit right now that he doesn’t even understand.”

Opening the door to his office, Patrik steps aside and waves me in with a real flourish, like he’s the doorman at the Hyatt fuckin’ Regency or something.

I look around the office. “Holy shit Patrik, this is even grander than before. Did you hire a gay designer here or what?”

The place is all low lit with recessed lighting and nice table lamps. Everything is different shades of black and brown, with lots of leather. The walls, the furniture, the fucking carpet, everything is all color coordinated.

“I mean what the fuck?” I’m turning and staring around the room like a dumbass.

“What you think Jerz, hey?”

“Looks like business is good my friend, but I mean c’mon though, somebody had to help you deck this place out. You could never even buy a suit for yourself without looking like a circus ringmaster.”

I laugh and slap him on the back. He laughs and gives me a shove. He walks behind a big ass mahogany desk and flops down in a leather chair, then motions for me to sit down. “The Dudek family has always had class. We have a taste for fine things and culture, Jerzy. Something I don’t expect a peasant like you to really comprehend.”

Another round of laughs. Patrik has always been on my good side, somebody I could actually call a friend. That, I’ll guarantee you, is a very short list.

He turns around to the little credenza bar behind him and grabs two glasses. “Now, my old kumpel , how about that Belvedere I promised you?”

“I see my bottle, where’s yours?”

He pours two vodkas and we clink.

“ Salut. ”

“ Salut. ”

After three or four drinks and kicking around the younger years a little bit, I figure it’s time to get down to some business before we just keep right on going and get blind stinking drunk.

“So, Patrik, I’m back in the game after being on a little vacation. That vacation was because of a little something I did for Ambrose. Well, shit, what am I talking about here, huh?” I smile all nice and easy. “You remember it right? You were there in that meeting with the old man. Right across the hall from here.” I motion with a thumb over my shoulder.

“Hey Jerz, whattaya think? It’s me here, okay?” His hands are up, palms towards me. His feelings look hurt. His eyes are all mopey and shit. “What the fuck? You’re acting like there’s some kind of problem here.”

This is when you have to watch Patrik because he’s about as crazy as I am. When he gets all sentimental and acting soft, you gotta watch things. When he’s into the drink pretty heavy, it’s even worse. My Berretta Storm is nice and snug in the shoulder holster and that makes me feel a little better, but not a whole lot.

I light up the last Marlboro and fish another pack out, careful not to open my jacket too far. ”I know, I know. I just ain’t been out for too long. Still wound a little tight, I guess.”

He stares at me and smiles, but the smile is stiff and something just ain’t right. I can’t figure if he’s thinking I’m going to pull something, or he’s the one that’s gonna make a move. I watch his eyes close. The eyes are always where everything happens first. He’s definitely thinking on something.

“I’m just cash strapped right now and I need to see some other people, too. See if I can get whole on some past services. It ain’t just you. I’m back up and full throttle but I need something to get — ”

He holds his hand up and stops me. This time the smile looks better. He turns back to the credenza and unlocks the bottom cabinet.

I’m really watching now. I mean I like the guy and all, always have, but I trust no one. No one.

I see a glimpse of gray metal with a matte finish over his shoulder but he’s blocking most of my vision. He’s all hunched over and I slide my hand inside my leather coat ever so easy.

Then he clacks open the safe he’s been dialing the combination to and I feel like an ass. But I leave my hand hooked on my belt buckle, nice and casual. I’ve seen more guns in safes than money.

Turning around now, Patrik’s holding three neatly banded bundles of money. New bills, crisp bills and they ain’t ones neither.

“Jerzy, you hurt my feelings. You don’t ever have to talk to me like some stranger, like some muscle just coming in cold off the street. You’re fucking family.”

“Hey, I know, I just — “

“I remember it well. We owed you eight or so for the misunderstanding you cleared up with the big Rosyjski. The Russians are such dogs, always have been, always will be. He has never fully recovered, by the way.”

He places one of the three stacks on the desk and slides it over to me.

“Ambrose forgets everything but I remember it all.”

That was bullshit, but hey, I wasn’t lying when I said I needed the money and I was strapped. I wasn’t gonna stand up for the old man now. I look at the money, nod at him and smile, but I make no move for it. I don’t want to look too damn needy. I can actually smell that green, though.

“There’s a bit more than eight there, Jerzy. Not only for helping with that monkey ass Russian but the shit you had to go through in Joliet. Drink?”

“ Tak .”