The Mafia's Doll.

Shatters (6)

Alejandro Romanin

"I'll ask you again," I stated gently, sitting up in my magnificent leather chair after hearing the troubling report that two of my beverage trucks didn't make it to the Jersey warehouse. "Tell me what's going on with those trucks again," I said, glaring at the truck driver who was mostly in charge of the tasks that were under my authority.

"I unfortunately lost track of them," His reply, in a scratchy rural tone, did little to calm my mounting fury. I smashed my cigar into the ashtray that was meticulously arranged on the table in front of me as his eyes clashed with mine. He, realizing the seriousness of the situation, unconsciously removed his aged baseball cap, showing an expression colored with fear.

Rising deliberately from my chair, the atmosphere in the room subtly shifted. These were no ordinary trucks; within was a cargo of unlicensed firearms and unmarked cigars valued at about $380,000. The new decade has brought with it stricter shipping security regulations, so the trucking route was our last option. "You lost track of them?" I queried while straightening my suit with a thoughtful motion. "Have you lost your mind?" I declared, a sharp note in my voice that caused him to visibly tense.

"You sluggish moron!" I kept forward, taking my time getting closer to the overweight, medium-height man. "Why do you not listen for instructions to follow? Why did you hire people at random, Jesus Christ?" The rhetorical queries lingered in the atmosphere. He knew not to reply back to them and instead he jerked under the pressure of my dissatisfaction.

In just my first week as captain, I've been tasked with taking over the "transportation" company, as and already, people are testing me with a bucket of bullshit and excuses. If this weren't the sacred space of the underboss' office, I'd have turned to a more visceral form of control. His stroke of fortune sat in the simple fact that we were within these walls.

Once again, I motioned toward the cushioned chair and sat back on it. I resumed smoking my cigar after it sent me a silent invitation to sink into the comforting embrace of it, letting the wisps of smoke trail through my mind. My thoughts raced, planning on how I am going to cover up the disturbing vanish of the two trucks and keep this irresponsible truck driver out of the spotlight that awaited if the Salvatores were to catch wind of the incident.

As I reclined, contemplating my next move, all thoughts of giving him a second chance went down the drain the moment he opened his mouth.

"Your uncle used to allow it, and if you don't like it, you could've driven the trucks to New Jersey yourself," the trucker elucidated, a daring finger pointing in my direction, as my gaze focused on him. Key word..."used to"

In that moment, the underboss' office seemed to shrink in response to the escalating tension as I rose from the chair and gestured over to him leaning against the pool table. The cigar, once a companion to my thoughts, now positioned between my lips, held a burden of unspoken consequences.

The dim glow of the room cast shadows on the faces of my fictitious audience, witnesses to the unfolding conflict within the walls of the underboss' office. With a measured glance around, as though acknowledging unseen spectators, I balled my fist, a silent signal that the setting had been prepared for a confrontation. In one swift motion, I unleashed the wrapped force, smashing my fist against the side of his face. The trucker's collapse to the floor with a pained grunt that caused a brief echo in the room, demonstrating the consequences of stepping beyond the line of disrespect.

I slammed the end of the cancer stick on his forearm after taking the cigar out of my mouth, treating him almost like my own personal ashtray. He groaned in even more agony. "You want to get smart-mouthed now that my uncle isn't around?" I roared out, my voice breaking through the startled atmosphere. "You're going to accept that I am now your boss, whether you like it or not--you brought it onto yourself."