“Of course not, Mr. Moretti.”
They were quiet until the waitress returned with Corrado’s water. The two men moved to a booth in the back, away from nosy ears and prying eyes.
“So what do you want?” Senator Brolin asked, picking at his bagel but eating none. “You aren’t a man who makes social visits.”
“True,” Corrado said. “And I don’t want something . . . I need something.”
“Look, if it’s about your pending case, I’ll tell you the same thing I told Dr. DeMarco. I can’t really—”
“It’s not about that,” Corrado cut him off, his eyes narrowing. “DeMarco? You spoke to Vincent about the RICO case?”
“Yes, a few weeks ago. He contacted me.”
“What did he want?”
“Uh, I don’t know, really. We didn’t get that far. He asked what kind of influence I had within the justice department, if any. I told him my hands were tied there and the conversation ended.”
That made absolutely no sense to Corrado but he shook it off, making a mental note to come back to it later. He didn’t have time to be concerned about what his brother-in-law was up to. There were more immediate things needing to be dealt with. “Well, like I said, this isn’t about that.”
“Then what’s it about?”
“There’s a new place in Connecticut Salvatore wants to do business with—Graves Resort & Casino. Guy named Samuel Graves owns it.”
“I know of it,” Senator Brolin said. “Graves grew up with the underboss of the Calabrese family. He’s a friend of mine. They both are, actually.”
“I figured that much. And the Calabrese family isn’t our biggest fan these days. The Amaro family, the Geneva family, sure . . . I still have connections. But the Calabrese family?” Corrado shook his head. Sal had offended them one too many times. “Without their approval, no deal.”
o;We have another student,” the lady said, handing him the paperwork. “Haven Antonelli.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” he said, shaking her hand. “Let me show you to your place.”
He situated her at the last empty station and instructed her to just explore today. She sat there for a moment, staring at the blank canvas when he walked away. A smile tugged her lips as she picked up a paintbrush, dipping it into a container of red paint.
She started off by drawing a simple heart in the center.
* * *
For the first time, Haven arrived home after Dia that night. She headed up the stairs to the sixth floor apartment close to dusk, her first painting tucked under her arm. Dia was sitting on the floor in the living room, stacks of freshly developed photos sprawled out around her. She looked up when Haven walked in, her eyes darting straight to the wrapped canvas.
“How was it?” she asked, her voice guarded.
“It was good,” Haven said. “I liked it.”
Dia took the painting from her, unwrapping it and holding it up, examining the streaks of color and distorted hearts. “It’s amazing! Let’s hang it up!”
Haven laughed. “It was just practice.”
“So?” Dia waded through her sets of photographs on the way to the closet to find a hammer and nails. She jumped up on the couch with it and crookedly hung the canvas in the center of the wall above it. She leaped down when she was finished and surveyed her handiwork. “It’s your first painting! You should be proud.”
Haven stared at it for a moment, a smile tugging her lips. “I really am.”
Every night that week, after Haven arrived home from her class, another painting joined the first one on the wall. Soon dozens of photographs surrounded them, new ones that Dia had taken over the few months Haven had been there. Their surroundings, once stripped bare to avoid facing pain, were again alive with vibrant color and happy memories.
* * *
La Cosa Nostra in Chicago runs differently than the factions in the east. In New York, the five families maintain separate entities within the city while still belonging to a bigger organization as a whole. The bosses, the commission, meet regularly to discuss business and hash out solutions, maximizing profit while lowering the infighting. It’s a committee, a congress of elected Mafia officials, voting and drafting and governing with their guidelines.
It’s a democracy, in other words. Bloody and violent and entirely illegal, but still a democracy, nonetheless.