Warpath

“Problem here?” Max asked Bruno, his tone quiet but authoritative.

“No, sir,” Bruno answered immediately. He didn’t exactly snap a salute but I

was pretty sure he straightened his posture when he spoke.

Max turned to me, his eyebrow arched.

“No problem,” I said. “Bruno and I were just talking a little anthropology.”

Max glanced back to Bruno. “Impressive.” Then he waved me inside. “Mr. Giordano is ready for you, Paula.”

I rose and followed him into the old man’s office.

Salvatore Giordano was what you’d call a traditionalist. In an age when most of his peers wore track suits and played video games most of the day, Sal was old school. He dressed well, he had manners, and he believed in loyalty. His pops taught him all three things, if you ask me, but where do any of us learn our most important lessons, right?

“Bricks!” Sal said, giving me a smile as he stood. “Good to see you.”

“You, too,” I said.

Sal came around from behind his desk, opening his arms to me. I leaned in. He took me firmly by the upper arms and brushed a kiss on first one cheek, then the other. His skin smelled of expensive cologne, but was rough and scraped against mine.

“Please, have a seat,” Sal said, releasing me. “You want something to drink?”

“No, I’m good.” I sat in the plush leather chair in front of Sal’s desk.

“No? You sure?”

“Positive.”

Sal returned to his own seat, settling in. Max took a chair off to the side.

We sat in silence, me waiting, and Sal just watching me. I had the uncomfortable sense that he was deciding something right then, and I didn’t like it.

“How long you been with me, Bricks?” he finally asked.

“I’ve been with the family all my life.” Couldn’t hurt to remind him of that, especially with the odd vibe I was suddenly getting. “My pops used to bring me in here when your old man had that chair.”

He smiled but the warmth didn’t reach his eyes. “Ah, yeah. The good old days,” he said with a light chuckle that quickly faded. “You know, having you do what you do for me, it’s kind of strange. Something they call a contradiction in terms.” He spoke the last part slowly, like it would be a concept I had never heard of or wouldn’t get.

“How’s that?”

He motioned toward me. “Look at you. You’re a woman.”

“Last time I checked, anyway.”

“How many women you figure get used as button men?”

“I’m guessing zero.”

“Exactly. Zilch. But my old man, he had a soft spot for yours, so here you are.”

I didn’t mention how my pops also got pinched taking care of a particularly messy problem for Saverio, and how he went to prison for it. How he didn’t utter a word to the cops the entire time, even after he got the cancer. How he took every single secret he had to his grave.

I didn’t mention it because it was Sal’s mess that my pops was cleaning up. So while the loyalty he showed to the family was understood, it was also an unpleasant reminder that even Sal fucks up sometimes.

He leaned back in his chair, appraising me. “Still, I gotta admit, there’s another reason I kept you on the payroll. You know why that is?”

“Yes.”