They were lies. Carmine himself had raided Sycamore Circle, so he knew for a fact they had crossed the imaginary lines.
Corrado sighed when they finally left, sliding his eyes to Carmine. “You and that mouth. The elders believed we should be gentlemen in how we spoke and always presentable in how we dressed. How hard is it to put on a suit?”
Carmine glanced down at his clothes. He had on jeans and a black button-up shirt, nothing out of the ordinary. “Suits are for weddings and funerals.”
“So I suppose you’ll be wearing one on Sunday, then?”
Carmine tensed. “What’s Sunday?”
Corrado started to comment but his phone rung and stopped him. He pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the screen.
“Make him pay up,” Corrado said, motioning toward the man working the counter. “A couple thousand.”
Carmine nodded hesitantly as his uncle turned away, bringing his phone to his ear to answer it. “Hello? Is everything all right?”
He knew immediately from the casual greeting that it was a personal call. He watched with confusion as Corrado bolted out of the door—he wasn’t the kind of person to take a personal call while on business.
He shrugged it off, nothing about the day making much sense, and headed to the front. “You got money for me?”
“I have some,” the man said.
“How much is some?”
“Uh, about five hundred.”
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Carmine said, stepping behind the counter where the man stood. Carmine spotted a baseball bat hidden near the register for protection and grabbed it.
“Okay, maybe a thousand,” the man said quickly, backtracking. “Yeah, I have a thousand.”
“It’s twenty-five hundred,” Carmine said nonchalantly, stepping back out from behind the counter.
“I know, but I don’t have that right now,” he said. “My kids have summer camp, and my wife’s pregnant. I can have it next week, but I just don’t have it all today.”
Carmine walked through the shop as the man fumbled with the safe and pulled out a stack of bills. His hand shook as he counted them out, and Carmine tried to fight back his guilt. They were just innocent people, caught in the middle and trying to make a living, but if it wasn’t them extorting the cash, it would be someone else. Someone less civil, who would demand a whole lot more.
Besides, he thought, it was better than the alternative. If he weren’t robbing people of money and possessions, he would be robbing them of their lives, and he would much rather take what could be replaced.
“Not good enough,” Carmine said, swinging the bat with as much force as he could. It slammed into the glass display case, shattering it and sending shards flying everywhere. He threw the bat behind the counter, nearly hitting the man with it, and grabbed the cash.
Carmine walked out, unable to even look at the shop owner, and opened the passenger door of Corrado’s car. He climbed inside and saw his uncle was still on the phone, a serious expression on his face as he listened to whomever was on the line.
“I’ll be there in the morning,” he said, pulling away from the curb. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ll notify you when I land.”
He sighed exasperatedly as he ended the call and glanced at Carmine. “How much did you get?”
“A thousand.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s all he had.”
Corrado reached over, snatching the cash from him. He counted it out, barely paying attention to the road as he sped through the city.
Carmine’s curiosity got the best of him after a bit. “Are you taking a trip or something?”
“Or something,” he responded, tossing a single hundred dollar bill at Carmine and shoving the rest into the center console. “You’re too soft. He would’ve given you more.”
“I lost my temper and smashed one of his displays,” he said. “I figured I cost him more in damages than he owed.”