THUGLIT Issue Six by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Thuglit Publishing
Published: 2013-06-30T04:00:00+00:00

*****

We sipped the rest of the night down with burnt coffee at Captain Spizzie’s Diner then headed over to Kingdom Come Pizza where Dominic held court and ruled his kingdom of South Philly. He’d risen to the position of boss of the local crew after the old boss, Jackie Fingers, got pinched for the murder of a rat. Dominic ruled in peace and dealt with threats to his order swiftly and brutally, often ending it with a body dumped in the river. If he believed we were involved, that’s the way he’d do us—or he might just kill us to sterilize the wound. These made guys didn’t like taking chances.

Bright and early at 8 AM we entered Kingdom Come Pizza. Dominic sat at his usual booth in the corner and read the Philadelphia Daily News. He sipped from a cappuccino, careful not to spill any of the foam on his silk shirt and imported jacket. He brushed back his dark hair from his forehead and tried hard to look older, more experienced. Dominic wasn’t much older than Louie and me. He only rose to the position because most of the older generation got pinched and sent up for ten-to-twenty on drug charges.

Leon, his front man, met us at the door.

“Hello boys,” he said. He held out his hand, and I gave up my Luger. He still patted us down. Then he took us to see the skipper.

“Louie. Vincent.” He waved for us to sit down. “Cappuccino? We have the finest boiler in the kitchen. I insist on it.” His boys sat in the other booths, chewing on bagles or cold pizza; they watched us with a keen hawk’s eye.

I sighed, inhaled deep, and put my life on the wheel. “We’ve got a problem, boss,” I said. We weren’t made guys, never would be, but we still called him boss. He liked respect. “We’re dealing to this guy Pete, expanding our market. We found out he’s a narc. A filthy pig.”

Dominic sipped from his coffee. He didn’t raise an eyebrow, cool as ice freezing at the North Pole. Most other guys would have freaked. “What does he know?” I told him everything, and he sipped his coffee, his eyes focused on the neon sign in the window. If he sent us out with some of his guys, we wouldn’t survive the day. He gestured for Leon, who handed me a .45.

“This gun just came to us from some friends of ours at Sullivan Gun Works in Connecticut. Tell this cop you want to meet him to reveal your source cause you need to unload some inventory. Then take care of it.”

I hesitated to take the gun. He forced it in my hand and raked me with his cold gaze—empty lethal eyes on the soulless man. “Use this gun, only this gun, these bullets. They’re untraceable. If you lead this back to us, we’ll take care of you, your family, your friends, even your priest.” He clenched my hand when I took the gun.

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