1930s Chicago. Notorious gangster Tom "Tommy Gun" Holland has been storming his way through Cook County, robbing banks and breaking hearts. One day you find yourself in the wrong place, at the wrong time when he makes a hit on your bank. There's...
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"Are we solid on the plan?" Capone asked from across the booth. It was the next morning and you and Tommy were instructed to meet Capone at his speakeasy in Little Italy. You had a time finding it too. It was nothing more than another marred up door in what appeared to be a dilapidated building. But on the inside, it was like you set foot in one of those Hollywood night clubs - all velvet and candles and glitzy gold trim on the ceiling. If you didn't know any better, you'd think Jean Harlow herself would walk right through the door.
Tommy clenched his jaw as he answered.
"Solid," he grunted, unable to hide his irritation about the whole thing. Capone wanted you to do the job right at the start of business, but Tommy would never do it that way. He'd say it was too predictable, that people are more alert at the start of business, waiting for the first wave of customers to come through. Capone also insisted on having a few of his men in position dressed as some joe patrons, and one as a copper. Tommy didn't like that either. He'd say it was too risky having anyone impersonate a copper. You wholeheartedly agreed. Tommy always praised you on your grifter skills. He told you there wasn't a con you couldn't pull off. And he always had a proud glint in those undressing eyes when he said it.
But you knew better. You knew to keep it discreet. You knew that some flashy badge and shiny gun just begs for attention.
"Good," Capone cast a smarmy smile at the two of you. "Wouldn't want anything to go amiss. I'd hate to see your sister-in-law and nephews harmed in anyway."
Tommy immediately jerked in his seat. His eyes glowed with fury and his nostrils flared like a bull.
"What?!" he growled.
Capone seemed very pleased with himself. "Wouldn't want you to try anything funny," he said his smile still smacked across his face. "Consider it collateral, insurance that you'll deliver on your end. Such a lovely home your family has in Indiana."
Tommy's eyes narrowed and you felt the rage emanating off of him.
"You harm a hair on their heads...," he seethed from across the table.
Your hand flew to his thigh under the table, coaxing him to calm down.
Capone dismissed Tommy with a wave of his hand. "Just be sure there are no hiccups," he said cavalierly then glanced down at his big, shiny watch. "Alright, kiddos, it's about that time."
You moved to crawl out of the booth but Tommy grabbed your hand to stop you.
"We do this and we're square, right?" Tommy said to Capone. His fingers interlaced with yours as he spoke. "You let us go, leave my family alone. No strings," he continued.
Capone nodded smugly.
"You can trust me," he said.
Tommy scoffed.
"The word of a crook," he smirked.
"Aw, come on, Tommy! What happened to honor amongst thieves?" he chuckled.
Tommy squeezed your hand. You glanced over at him and couldn't help but smile, but his face darkened with hatred.
"You have no honor," he said through gritted teeth. His tone was low and steady but full of quiet rage. "You conspire and take and kill and never get your hands dirty. You bleed this city dry, taking more and more for yourself, making yourself fat with fortune, while real men are out there grinding their fingers to the bone for scraps."
Tommy let go of your hand and placed his palms on the table, leaning in closer.
"You're a piece of shit gangster without the balls to do your own dirty work," he sneered, "and when I'm done doing your dirty work here today, I better not see your fat fucking face ever again."
You let out a little gasp and quickly covered your mouth.
Capone sat there, nonplussed, and continued to cooly smile at Tommy. He fished in his suit pocket and retrieved something in his chubby fist. Without a word, he tossed it on the table. You watched it spin there in front of you, a golden wedding band, it's engraving caught the candlelight:
*My darling, Nikki. Love Sammy*
Tommy recoiled and sat back against the booth, staring in disbelief.
"Like I said, collateral," Capone stood up from his seat and buttoned his jacket with a satisfied smirk. "Shall we begin?"
