Broken Promises

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LaRascasse
LaRascasse
1,130 Followers

"Before you do though, I would ask you to call up your family and tell them you love them. You see, I'm not some broad who comes to these places to shake my ass to that one note music. I represent the interests of Solntsevskaya Bratva in the US. I make them an awful lot of money. You may not know who we are, but Frank sure does."

He looked even more unsure of his actions now. His sweaty fingers slipped on the trigger. Tatiana calmly held the barrel of the gun and pressed it to her temple.

"Pull the trigger. Be a hero. My friends from Brighton Beach will kill every last one of you and your families and they will start with you."

"That's enough," said Frank. The young man put his gun down, trembling now. Tatiana gently patted him on the side of the face and the shoulder.

"In the future, don't point a gun at someone unless you intend to shoot."

Roy saw the scene with wide eyed awe. All the while, Tatiana remained expressionless. If she felt any fear, she didn't show it. His eyes followed her as she sauntered back to the desk and sat down.

"Where were we? Yes, you were going to absolve Roy of any and all debts he holds to you."

"Tatiana, you're a smart woman. Think of the position this puts me in. I can't have one guy not pay back what he owes me. Think of what would happen if others found out and got the same idea."

"I don't care. He's family and Vory always look out for family."

"I didn't know that."

"He may be a dope, but he's still my brother-in-law. That makes him off limits to anyone in your organization. It's our code, Frank. Trust me, you do not want to find out what happens when family becomes fair game."

Frank dabbed the sweat on his brow with his handkerchief.

"You're outnumbered and outgunned and you know it. We'll hit all your stash houses, bust all your underground casinos and take out every last guido named Lombardini by the end of this week if we have to. You exist because only I allow you to."

He looked down at his desk, deep in thought.

"Is how-much-ever he owes you really worth the jeopardizing the business we do together? What if the next shipment of guns that comes into the city were to go your rivals... say the Battaglia family? That wouldn't be so nice now, would it?"

"You've made your point."

"So?" she asked, looking on expectantly.

"He doesn't owe us anything now."

"There, now that wasn't so hard, was it? Your men might be punks, but I always knew I could reason with you, Frank."

It was as if she no longer knew the difference between reasoning and threatening.

"Could you announce our new agreement for the benefit of your men, please?"

Frank cleared his throat and made it clear to everyone present that Roy Saviano was no longer indebted to them and anybody who still took their chances with him would be made an example of. They nodded, clearly not used to such an order from their boss.

"There is one more thing we need to discuss," said Tatiana, pouring herself some more whiskey. "Perhaps you could ask your men to leave. This is more between us."

He did so and the men filed out of the double doors.

"Three days ago, one of your men went to Saviano's to remind Roy here that his payment was due. He made his point rather aggressively. I get that, he owed you money. Do you know who it was, Roy?"

"Enzo. He's the Lombardini enforcer for the block."

"During this discussion, Enzo pointed his gun at a ten year old girl and threatened to kill her. Are you aware of this, Frank?"

"No, I am not," he sighed. "Kids these days. Children are off limits. They should know that."

"They should. The rules are there for a reason."

"I'll talk to him."

"No, I will," interrupted Tatiana. "... and right now."

Frank looked thunderstruck at the demand.

"Please, no. His Mom and I go way back. He's young and stupid, but he'll understand."

"I don't care. He pointed a gun at my niece. You and I both know the second he did that, he sealed his own fate."

"I'll tell him to leave town. He won't ever be seen in the five boroughs again."

"That's not good enough, Frank. Call him and tell him to come here."

"You can't expect me to do that to him."

"The way I see it, Frank, is you have two options. One is bad, but the other is worse. You call Enzo here and I do what I have to do. It will not be pleasant to watch, that's for sure. As bad as it sounds, it's actually better than option two. If you don't tell him to come here and my men have to go find him, and believe me they will, then I'll cut off his bits and FedEx them to his mother. Do you really think she'll be happier you chose that for her boy?

She took a sip of her drink and leaned back into the plush chair.

"Your move, old man."

Frank looked at her and then at her accompaniments. Behind his wrinkles and his thinning hairline, he knew what he had to do and he knew the alternative if he didn't. He sighed and picked up the phone.

"Enzo. Come meet me at the club right now. I need to talk to you."

They waited in silence. Seconds turned to minutes and minutes approached an hour. Just as Tatiana was about to ask again, the doors opened and a young Italian-American man came in.

"You wanted to see me, Uncle Frank?"

Those were the last words to cross his lips. In the next moment, his grey matter defaced the knock-off Vermeer on the wall. Ugly streaks of brain and blood trailed down the expensive wallpaper as young Enzo slumped to the floor. A rather significant part of his forehead was a bloody mess.

Roy looked stunned. His trembling eyes turned to his side to see Tatiana holding out a gun.

"It's a shame. That painting really brought the wall together."

Frank looked shaken. He had not expected the suddenness of his protege's departure. His wide eyes trembled at the sight of the body sprawled on his linoleum.

"I'm glad we have all that squared away. It was a pleasure doing business with you today, Frank. Your men can expect the next shipment of guns to be delivered to your warehouse in Pelham Bay by tomorrow. The price has gone up by ten percent. Not my cut, but the people at customs are greedier this time."

She got up and extended her hand. He still looked shocked at the sight in front of him. Tatiana waited for a few awkward moments before it was clear that the handshake was not forthcoming.

"He brought it on himself. At least this way, his mother has a whole body to bury, not just whichever parts fit into a parcel. Tell her to raise the rest of her kids better."

* *

"This should be far enough."

The driver stopped the car. The two men in the back got out and headed inside the gas station to buy a few things.

"How about some chocolates for the kids?"

"No, thanks," blurted out Roy. Tatiana scanned his expression for a few seconds.

"Walk with me while they refuel."

Roy followed her. They were just off the river. Parts of the embankment were brightly lit up and filled with families. She led him down a muddy trail away from the milling crowd. He followed her until they found a horizontal surface to sit.

"Here," she said, holding out an open packet of Newport Lights. They each took one and she lit hers with an ornate lighter. While she took a drag, she held out the lighter for Roy's benefit.

"You might as well say what you're thinking now."

"What?" asked Roy.

"Your hand has not stopped shaking since we left the club. I gave you that cigarette to calm you down."

"I can't believe you killed him."

She took a long pull and tilted her head upwards to blow a thin stream of smoke into the night.

"Was it your first time?"

He nodded.

"First times are rough. Seeing someone alive one second and not alive the next, it's a unique feeling. Especially if you are the reason for it."

"You could have scared him..."

She smiled as she took another long drag and the end of her cig glowed in the near darkness around them.

"During my time in Moscow, one of the jobs I was given was to knock some sense into a man. He was married to the boss' daughter who, for whatever reason, did not want to leave him. True love, I guess. He got drunk and beat her all the time. Each time we offered to intervene, she made it clear he was going to change after his latest drunken episode. For sure this time."

Roy listened, taking a drag off his own cig.

"After a while of this, we decided to take matters into our own hands. We still couldn't just off him, his wife would be mad at us. We picked him up from his bar of choice one night and took him to one of the Bratva construction sites. We took him to the top of the tallest point in the building and told him to jump. There were four of us, each of us with a gun. We put the fear of God in him that night and the bastard pissed his pants. He cried and he swore he would never touch the boss' girl ever again."

"He didn't keep his promise?"

"The very next day, he smashed a vodka bottle over her head and stabbed her fifty six times with the broken shards."

"Holy-"

"My point is, he was warned what would happen, but he did it anyway. In that moment, his feeling of power and control over his wife was more important than his own life."

She blew a ring of smoke out. Roy watched it expand before diffusing into the night air.

"People are stupid that way. I could have made my message clear to Enzo and he would have sworn on whatever you wanted him to that he would never go near your family again. But then he would go home, get drunk and sleep it off. The next morning, he would get up and not remember any of the fear, only the humiliation. Humiliation and emasculation that would need to be avenged. Remember that he knows where you live and what your daughter looks like."

Roy sucked in a deep breath at the thought.

"That's your own daughter, Roy. She goes to school, comes back, goes to play with her friends all in broad daylight. Do you really want an angry young punk with a gun to have an axe to grind against her?"

"No," he admitted.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to do what it took, so I did."

"What happens now?"

"Nothing," she said, dropping her cig to the ground and crushing it with the heel of her shoe. "You go home and kiss your children goodnight knowing the world is just a little bit safer for them."

She walked back up the trail and he followed behind her. His head was spinning with thoughts of what he had seen and heard today. Whatever illusions he had of Tatiana were cruelly dispelled along with Enzo's brains. In that moment, seeing her still look so calm and composed with a smoking gun in her hand, he knew he had traded the frying pan for the fire.

He was in the backseat of the car and it drove back to his house. All the while, his mind remained on the scenes before him. The moment that the majority of Enzo's cerebrum splattered against the painting was indelibly seared into his memory... and it was by the same hand that pinched his kids' cheeks and patted them on the head the night before. The realization of who he had brought into his children's lives dawned on him.

"We're here."

He snapped out of his reverie to see the car stopped at his house. Still unsteady, he got up and made his way out.

"Roy."

He turned around on the pavement to see Tatiana beckoning him over from the front seat. He walked to her as she rolled down the glass.

"I want you to know one thing. I would never ever hurt my sister's children or let anyone else hurt them. Whatever else you think of me, I want you to know that."

* *

"The kids finished Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator in no time. Tatiana said she knew someone who deals in rare books. She can get a first edition set of everything Roald Dahl wrote for children."

He turned to his side to admire Sofia's picture. If he closed his eyes, it was almost as if she was listening to him patiently.

"Donna and Joe loved Yankee Stadium by the way. The seats were incredible. You could literally see straight at the batter. I haven't seen our children that excited in a long time. You should have seen Joe's face when a home run landed just to the right of our box. Tatiana got him that ball at the end of the game, signed by Peter Strycovski no less. All the other kids in school are going to be so jealous."

Roy reached out and touched the glass front of the picture frame. Running his fingers over the surface of her image made him feel strangely connected to her.

"We stopped for ice cream on the way back too. I tried to tell the kids to control themselves, but Tatiana would have none of that. I think they eventually had three helpings each before they were full."

He tried to imagine how Sofia would have reacted to this conversation.

"Tatiana has so much planned. She's already lined up a day of sailing with her, a trip to her country estate and even secretly told me she's going to surprise Donna on her birthday with a trip to DisneyLand in Anaheim. I can't compete with that."

There's no way Sofia could have disagreed.

"It's hard to believe it has barely been two weeks since Tatiana came into our lives. The kids laugh so much more around her. It's almost like it was before ... before you got sick."

An unwelcome flood of memories rushed into his head and he tried his best to suppress them. The good would now forever be tainted with the bad.

"I know I broke the promise I made to you. I know I betrayed your trust the day I went to see your sister, but can't you see how much happier the children are? Is their happiness not worth it? She has promised me that none of her job will ever come into our home."

Roy held his comforter up to his chin and stared up at the ceiling. He did not have so much as a speeding ticket in his name. When he closed his eyes, his mind still flashed back to the sprawled form of Enzo and his brain on the wall behind him. The gun was silenced, so there was hardly a sound to warn him. All he saw was the man who had held him by the throat suddenly cease to exist. The image he saw over and over again in his mind was the scene just after when he turned to see Tatiana. She looked calm and collected, not showing a trace of emotion for the life she had taken so swiftly.

Her demeanour was chilling -- at complete odds with the Aunt at Yankee stadium today. An absolute polar opposite.

Daylight eventually shone in through the window to find Roy Saviano staring upwards at the ceiling of his bedroom.

The night had passed, but he was still undecided on which persona was the real Tatiana.

* *

Roy had decided to pick up his children from school on that fateful day. He met them at the entrance as they were making their way to the bus.

"How about an ice cream on your way back with me?"

Joe and Donna would never say no to the offer. He walked a couple of blocks with them.

"That's a nasty bruise, Joe."

"It's nothing," said the eight year old defensively.

"It doesn't look like nothing," said his father. "Did you get into a fight?"

Joe did not say anything. Roy turned his gaze to Donna.

"Do you have any idea how your brother got that bruise?"

She shrugged and then looked at her brother beside her. He held his arm gingerly using his other arm for support.

"You have to tell him, Joe?"

"Tell me what?" asked Roy, clearly concerned now.

"It was Devon."

"Donna!"

"Sorry, Joe, but I had to tell Dad," she turned to her father. "He has been doing whatever Devon wants for months now. Today, he did something wrong and Devon was furious. He did that and said he would break Joe's arm the next time he messed up."

"Is that true?" Roy was clearly alarmed.

Joe chose not to answer, but his silence spoke volumes.

"It's gone far enough. I'm talking to Principal van Reyn tomorrow."

"No, don't." Joe was clearly more afraid of being branded as a tattler than being picked on by Devon.

"I have to. Look at what he did to you."

"It will only make everything worse for me."

"Worse than it is now?"

"I'll find a way," implored Joe. "Please, Dad, don't go to the Principal. I'll stand up to him."

The rest of the way home was consumed with more discussion. Despite Roy and Donna being concerned about him, Joe made them both swear not a word of it would reach the Principal.

By the time they had reached home, late afternoon had mostly given way to evening. A gleaming black Cadillac was parked outside. The owner stood at the entrance of the restaurant with a group of men. Among them was an immaculately dressed and immediately recognizable Italian gentleman.

"Donna, go inside with your brother."

"Hey there," said Tatiana brightly, waving at them. "How was school?"

Roy smiled politely and ushered the kids inside before walking up to her group.

"I didn't expect to see you today. Least of all here."

"Well, I have an offer you can't refuse. Literally. Can we go inside and discuss?"

Roy walked inside Saviano's and asked Jeremy to close early. He led the group to the one clean booth and they sat around the table.

"Roy, I want you to meet a friend of mine. This is Marco Gasparini. You may have heard of him and of Gasparini's in Venice."

"Of course," said Roy.

"Well, Marco is a friend of mine and he's in town opening the flagship Gasparini's in Atlantic City. We got to talking and I suggested he could do worse than..."

"Than...?"

There was silence for a few seconds while the meaning of her words settled in Roy's head. He felt sick even thinking about it.

"Before you say no," said Tatiana. "Let me make my offer. The restaurant will still be Saviano's. We will not be letting go of any of the existing staff. All I'm suggesting is that you make me a silent partner and make Marco a public partner. We could give this place a complete makeover and have a grand reopening in as little as ten weeks."

"Are you fucking shitting me?"

"Roy," said Marco from across the table. He looked tall and regal, actually better in person than on TV and magazine covers. "My father is a chef too. He's a snob when it comes to Italian food. I can't count how many times he went to the best restaurants in Milan and Rome and threw back the pasta because he did not find it authentic enough. That man taught me everything I know about cooking. He came to this city twenty five years ago and do you know what he told me?"

"What?"

"He told me... Marco, there is a little slice of Venice in that city. He could not stop talking about this one small family owned restaurant called Saviano's. He said our food should always aspire to be authentic to our roots and your food was. I have never seen him as impressed."

Roy listened numbly.

"When Tatiana told me how your restaurant has been going through some bad times, I wanted to help out."

"We'll redo the interiors, revamp the menu and even get the best Italian sous chefs and line chefs in the city. Marco himself will pick your head chef who will directly report to you. You'll still make all the big decisions, but now you'll have the people you need."

"You don't get it, do you? This is not an episode of Kitchen Nightmares. My grandfather and my father put all their blood, sweat and tears into making this place what it is. It is their place, not mine to give away."

"And it will remain their place. No one is taking that away from you. You are getting the upside of Kitchen Nightmares without Gordon Ramsay yelling at you first. Can't you see this deal for what it is, a business opportunity of a lifetime?"

"I've got a meeting with a real estate agent in Flatbush so I'll get going," said Marco. "Mr Saviano... Roy, I can promise you that if you say yes to what Tatiana is offering, I will give you a restaurant that would have made your father and grandfather proud."

Marco left Roy, Tatiana and a few of her intimidating accompaniments. She told them to wait outside while she finished her conversation.

LaRascasse
LaRascasse
1,130 Followers