𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗗 𝗔𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗞 𝗔𝗦 𝗪𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗥 ⚔︎

27

needless to say, eddie had no idea how to go about organising the hit on marc costello.

the don had carried out hits before, of course — more so when he was younger and more spritely (before chantelle and jesse were born), but they were still hits nevertheless. as he got older and promoted up in the ranks, he had less and less to do with hits, as he usually would just allow his captains organise them — his job was simply to give permission, a yes or a no; a thumbs up.

he still had yet to talk to giovanni about the whole debacle, and surprisingly, this was probably the most hardest part of it all. convincing the young man to kill one of the bosses while also not getting caught doing it was going to be a trying task. giovanni was his only hope — but what would he do if he said no? who was eddie going to turn to then?

word of the hit had travelled fast in the other four families — bernardi, lavigne, peralta, romano — and all of their captains had refused to have any part in the matter. even the soldiers and the lowlife associates, who were usually willing to get their hands dirty doing anything for a little bit of extra cash, had backed out. nobody was brave enough to risk their life in going up against marc costello. it was bound to be incredibly tricky.

eddie had had the talk with almost all of his own captains, those who he thought would be the right men for the job. his most skilled men — arnie, robert, hugo, james — were all reluctant. he just couldn't seem to sway them, no matter the price he was offering.

as of saturday, september 26th, eddie sat at home in the conservatory, resting in the wicker chair. late morning sunlight illuminated the room through the glass panes and outside a light breeze ruffled the almost leafless trees in the garden. some of the flowers that were once in full bloom had lost their petals, leaving behind crippled brown stems that shook in the wind. he was dressed casually in a pale blue polo shirt, tucked into a pair of dark grey slacks with a leather belt around his waist.

sighing, he picked up the telephone from beside him on the side table and dialled giovanni's number.

waiting mere seconds, the phone was answered right away. "hello?"

"morning, giovanni," eddie said. "how are you, kid?"

giovanni was slightly confused at his call. eddie never usually liked to call in the mornings. "i'm fine. how are you?"

"oh, i'm good, i'm good," eddie said, wiggling his foot nervously. "listen, are you busy today?"

giovanni hesitated on the other line. "not particularly. what's the matter?"

"come to my house in, let's say, half an hour? i have something to, uh... discuss with you."

"okay, sir. i'll be right over."

moments later, after hanging up the phone, eddie heard footsteps parading down the hallway. he looked at the doorway and jesse appeared, clad in a wooly brown sweater, dark denim jeans and his biker boots. he stopped at the open entrance of the conservatory and leaned against the doorframe. he crossed his arms.

"why'd you ask giovanni to do the hit?"

eddie blinked. "what d'you mean?"

"what else would i mean?" jesse said, scoffing lightly. "i don't know why you asked giovanni when i could've done it instead."

eddie sat up straighter in the wicker chair. "well—"

"it's really dangerous," jesse continued, interrupting his father and walking further into the room. "let me handle it. i can handle it. you don't even have to pay me — i'll kill the bastard for free."

"jesse..." eddie sighed. "it's more complicated than that."

"how?"

"giovanni's just..." eddie stopped, thinking of a way he was going to phrase his next sentence. "he's just more suited to the job. god forbid if anything goes wrong—"