“Downsize?”
“Yeah.”
“How much?”
Sal looked over to Max. I followed his gaze.
“Significantly,” the consigliere said.
I waited for more, but Max simply sat quietly and said nothing.
“Yeah, so here’s what significantly means,” Sal continued. “It means I don’t really need more than one button man these days.”
Oh, Christ. I was being laid off by the mafia.
“You’re kidding,” I said.
Sal shook his head. “No. Dead serious.”
I almost laughed at that. Then I wondered how in the hell I was going to file for unemployment, and the desire to laugh out loud doubled. I pressed my lips together to hold it inside.
“The thing is,” Sal said, “we’re gonna try to do this honorably. You know, in a way my old man would’ve been proud of? So we’re gonna license a few people to start their own families in other cities if they want. Other people we’ll give a nice severance package. Some people have already got their legit business for laundry purposes, so they can get by on that. It’ll work out.”
That sounded like something Sal told himself so that his father’s
ghost didn’t haunt his dreams at night, but I kept that inside, too.
“But,” Sal said, holding up a finger. “There are a few loose ends. Some things that need to be tidied up.”
“Like?”
“Like a couple of guys who know too much. Guys who we know won’t keep their mouths shut once they get cut loose. Guys who fucked some things up to help put us in this situation. Things like that. They’ve been on the backlist for a while, but now we gotta move on things, so their number’s up.”
A picture of where this was going started to form in my mind. “And that’s where I come in?”
Sal smiled that same empty smile he’d flashed at me when I came in. “Always the smart one, Bricks.”
I shrugged. It didn’t take a genius.
“Yeah,” Sal said. “That is where you come in. I’ve got three of these loose ends that need taking care of. You take care of them, you not only get paid, but I keep you on as what they call an independent contractor.”
Christ.
“So, capisce?”
I thought about it, more for form’s sake than anything else. I didn’t have a choice, and we both knew it. If I refused, I became another loose end. I had to say yes, and decide later if I wanted to follow through or blow town.
Like that was even an option. What kind of work was I going to get with experience as a hit man and a degree in philosophy?
Dishwasher, that’s what.
“What about your other buttons?” I asked.
Sal gave me a frank, even stare. “I’m asking you to do this. Because of your old man and mine, truth be told.”
“And because I always deliver.”
“And that.”