Chapter 17

The conversation regarding the Beaumonts that Carlos desires to have with Marco has to be postponed as other vital matters crop up. Even as Carlos monitors the Moretti's, another shipment of Castellano produce is hijacked. Though the vessel was relatively small in comparison to the others, the loss premium quality product is still a slice out of profits. And profits are ultimately the bottom line. For Carlos this means his father's rage is directed mainly at him as he was entrusted with finding the troupe of thieves.

After listening to the man's ranting over the phone, Carlos promises to do better, ending the call having been threatened. It's not an empty one but he's used to his father's anger by now to realise that he needs to make an improvement before Alberto Castellano really loses his temper.

Despite his father being convinced it's the Moretti's, Carlos is not so sure. Regardless, he does agree that serious words need to be had with the group and as such, it's with steadfast determination he calls the Raymond Moretti.

"Moretti," answers the man, his voice gruff and heavily regionally accented.

Despite his Italian roots, Moretti is not exactly Italian. He is in all essence an American. The only tie he has with Italy is that his grandfather was from there. However after 50 years of living in America, Raymond has not once had contact with Italy. None of this is a problem for Carlos but his father...his father stuck in his ancient ideals holds it in discontent.

"Mr.Moretti, this is Carlos Castellano," introduces Carlos bracing himself to be told to 'fuck off'.
There is a chuckle before the old man says, "what the hell are you doing calling me, kid? Did your dad finally croak?"
"No, Mr.Moretti, he is most certainly alive and well. However he is angry and it seems he believes you are the cause of his anger."

The humour drains out of Moretti straight away, "oh really? And what does he believe this time, I have done. I am honouring our deal and I only want peace between our families however if it is a war he wants-"
"It will not come to such drastic measures, Moretti. I assure you. However this matter is about the deal and honouring it. After a certain incidence that happened, it is that he questions."
" 'An incidence'?" echoes Moretti, intrigued and curious but Carlos does not reveal anymore.
"It is a...sensitive matter. One I wish to discuss with you privately."
"Privately, huh?"
"Yes. You-me, no guns, no men. We talk, that's all," deals Carlos.

There's silence on the other end as Moretti mulls it over, "I chose the place-"

"Neutral territory," he bargains.

Moretti agrees, stating a neutral territory location while they bargain on the date and time.

At precisely 6pm the next evening, Carlos adjusts the small pocketknife in the side of his shoe, while placing the locked and loaded gun into his dashboard. It's one he caries all the time but for the sake of keeping his word, he'll have to leave it in the car. Of course, he could still take out Moretti and his men without it. It's just a lot less...messy with it. Primed and ready, he exits the car, locking it before making his way to the old, tired looking office block building. Having been left abandoned, it remains that way even now after the mob boss's started using it as neutral territory.

There are two guys posted outside, mean looking ones that check him for weapons briefly before leading him wordlessly down corridors with pealing wallpaper, into finally a conference room. Of course, this is simply a room with a splintered desk and a few chairs spilling their stuffing.

Straight opposite the entrance sits Moretti. He's the kind of guy seen typically in those black and white, gangster movies; fat, balding and ugly as hell. He's got a sick sense of humour, a large sense of entitlement and above all, pride.

Before Carlos can take a seat opposite him, one of the goons pats him down. The man does it again perplexed when he feels no obvious weapon on the Castellano causing Carlos to only raise an eyebrow. If anything, he's a man of his word and because of that he chooses his words carefully. Satisfied, the men step out of the room, leaving only Carlos and Raymond in there.

"Can't decide whether you're brave or just stupid," remarks Moretti, "coming in here unarmed like this. But I'll tell you what, you sure do have some balls, boy."
"Mr. Moretti," greets Carlos ignoring the man's comments and instead extending a hand for him to shake before Carlos takes a seat opposite him.
"So, what is it you want to talk about then?" asks the older man getting straight down to business, which suits Carlos just fine.

The sooner he gets to the bottom of this whole mess the sooner he can get back to Lola.

"There have been a few...let's call them them 'accidents', with our recent shipment, Mr. Moretti. The taken product has been small and fairly insignificant holistically speaking. However, this is not a matter we take lightly, as you'll agree. Stealing-"
"Hold on a second. How is some idiot stealing your shit, my problem? Hey, maybe your old man's getting-whatdaya call it- Alzheimer's or some other fancy brain damage, if he can't even keep his product safe."
Carlos grits his teeth at the insult thrown to his father. His patience may be rather lengthy in comparison to the rest of his family but even it has a limit and this man seriously tests that limit.

"We apprehended the said thieves Mr.Moretti and do you know what they told us? Right before my brother ripped their tongues out and let choke to death on their own blood that is," evenly says Carlos, "they said, that you sent them."

Shrewd brown eyes sharpen momentarily before the owner throws his head back and laughs whole-heartedly. His belly jiggles at the motion as does the thick layers of fat around his tired face both indications of a stressful life.
"See-I knew I liked you kid. Too bad your blood's rotten," murmurs the old man as he regains himself.

Carlos tilts one thick eyebrow, not amused.

"But you're barking up the wrong tree. I didn't send anyone over to steal any of your shit," he proudly states, insulted by the very fact that the Castellano's would even think that. They are beneath him. Whatever he desires he could get himself and it would be far superior to their product.
"And I can take your word that you had no involvement or knowledge of their operation, can I? Because I suppose tortured men lie," somewhat sarcastically responds Carlos, still playing the sceptical card.
He's not. Sceptical that is. He had only an inkling of suspicion coming into this meeting and after everything that's transpired since, that inkling seems to have evaporated. However, for the sake of being through and satisfying his father, he holds steadfast as he ploughs through Moretti, crushing any defence he may be using.

A large fist bangs on the table in outrage, the boom echoing throughout the tiny room.

"Now see here! If it's a war your father wants then fine it's a war I'll give him! But don't you dare go throwing lies and accusations in my face! I don't need to steal from anyone boy-least of all your father!-" rants Raymond gaining momentum as he grows in anger.
Carlos has to react quickly to dampen that flame before it threatens to turn into a forest fire that consumes the whole city.

"No, Mr. Moretti, a war is not at all what we want. We just want the truth and justice," he soothes continuing on, "thank you for your cooperation in that."

Sated Raymond slumps slightly back in his seat.

"Yes well...as long as you tell your father that he better not go around pointing fingers without his facts," mutters the slightly miffed mobster.

Carlos just takes in stride, rising to his feet in knowledge that this meeting is now over. He holds out a hand for the man opposite to shake as he too takes slowly to his feet.
They exchange a short snappy handshake before Carlos turns to leave.

His back is angled towards the old man but his ears twitch slightly at the sound of ruffling. With his shoulder angling slightly down, his profile comes in view Moretti freezes.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you Mr. Moretti. I may not be my father's only son but you can bet he sure as hell would avenge me."

The cold statement means Carlos can walks away freely back to his own home, burdened with only the realisation that he'll have to be the one to break to his father that it is most definitely not his arch nemesis behind his problems.

"He did not do it," sighs Carlos in frustration.
"Fine-"
"Father I'm telling you...wait...what?"
Carlos is stunned. His stubborn father certainly does not give in this easily. Especially not to his eldest son. His wife, maybe. A priest, definitely. But not to those below him such as his son.
"I will be talking to Raymond myself," states his father.
And there it is. His father back to himself. Carlos sighs half in relief and half in weariness.

"Padre...please. We do not need this to escalate. I will find-"
"You will do as you've been told, boy," fires back his father in an icy tone, cutting off Carlos's pleas.
"Yes, sir," murmurs the younger Castellano.
"And don't forget, this Sunday is the last of the month," reminds Alberto. 

Carlos makes a noise of acknowledgement before hanging up.

Like Carlos, Marco too has his own apartment in the city, only Marco rarely uses it-preferring their large family house. Carlos can't imagine why because while his father and Marco get along superbly (or as much as is possible with their father), Marco and his mother are not as smooth sailing. Carlos doesn't know why because despite however grudgingly his brother has always followed their mother's strict rules. Thus the 2nd place. A place where he is free to sin to his heart's desire and where mother will turn a blind eye to since it is not in her house. So with Carlos away so much and the other two men in her family busy, she'd insisted on another rule to the already long list whereby the last Sunday of each month there will be a family lunch-attendance mandatory. Only by some small miracle, Carlos was able to wiggle himself out of the last one. However not showing up twice in a row will certainly not be accepted.

A damn shame because Sunday's are his days with Lola. A time which they both greatly enjoy and now he'll have to break it to her that that won't be the case this Sunday.

He finds her lounging on the couch, browsing recipes off the internet, in the front room.
"Oh hey, I was just looking at some things we could try out," she says smiling up at him.
Clearing his throat he takes a seat next to her on the couch.

"About that..." he starts, "Lola, I won't be here for the majority of this Sunday."
The smile on her face slips as she glances away. Then with some effort she seems to push it back up into a smaller, sadder one before stating, "oh. Okay."

Carlos frowns in disappointment and disbelief; he would have thought she'd put up a little more resistance.
"That's it-'okay'?" he asks.

Lola blinks at him in confusion, "well...I guess so. What do you want me to say, Carlos? That I don't want you to go. That Sunday's are our days. That I love when we just lounge about watching TV, or experimenting in the kitchen and the bedroom. And that as much as I hate how we can't do anything together in this town, that I love our adventures in other towns....I can't say that, Carlos. You have your obligations and I know I am far down your list of priorities."

Carlos struggles to know what she wants him to do. He watches her cautiously, but doesn't seem to note any strong resentment or anger towards him, which he considers a good thing. He's not sure. Like most of his gender, he too has trouble understanding women sometimes. Especially the things they don't say more so than the things they do.

Nonetheless, he gently eases an arm around her, risking loosing that limb if he's gauged her reaction wrongly.
"You should. You should list low on my priorities but the problem is piccola, that you don't. This is something I can't avoid though, as much as I'd like to," he quietly explains, causing Lola's eyes to brighten again.

She doesn't want to burden him but it's true. Their Sundays are when both of them can finally unwind, laugh and feed their delusions of normalcy. Lola knows she should treasure those happy days since they are limited. She's under no illusion that like a spring lamb, her father has led her into a slaughterhouse, the Castellano's have wired her up and with only one tiny press of a button, she could be killed at any moment.

"Where are you going? Or is that top-secret?" she jests, hoping asking his whereabouts isn't overstepping the mark. They may be 'involved' with each other and perhaps, this physical relationship is just that, but a part of her likes to think there's more to it.

Carlos's tips tilt into an easy smile as he shakes his head, "no, no, it's not what you think. My family doesn't gather too often for non-business related matters so Mother insists that at least on one Sunday a month we all accompany her to church and then have lunch at my family house."

The lunch part he can do. The church part is his issue. While his mother is a devout Catholic, that same sense of deep devotion did not pass down to her sons. Well, he can't speak for Marco but he certainly would class himself as an atheist. Not for any vendetta against him mother or the Church but because not being a part of any religion is for Carlos, simpler.

"'Church'?!" repeats Lola incredulous.

She tries her best to stiffen her smile at the thought of an organised crime family attending Holy Communion. Surely, if you turning your back on the footpath to God or enlightenment that any religion states, what is the point? She's sure between the Castellano's they've probably broken all of the Commandments at least once. Still, she shouldn't mock. Maybe Carlos is a religious man, although she's not seen him wearing a cross or ever reading a bible.

Carlos is far from offended, in fact he ribs back, "contrary to what you may believe, I do not burst into flames from just stepping into the place."
Lola giggles with laughter before rolling her eyes as she slumps against him and returns her attention to the computer before her.

Gazing down at her, Carlos wishes he can be so nonchalant about the upcoming Sunday as she is, but deep in the pit of his stomach he feels the calm before the storm. 

A/n hi everybody! I guess for a lot of you summer's coming to an end. I thought with these new chapters we'd try something different and I'll ask you guys a question (not related to the story) with each chapter, rather than me ranting on at the end. That way, I get to know you guys a little better too :) 

So question of the chapter: 

What are the top 3 things you enjoy about summer wherever in the world you are? 

And of course, what do you think of the chapter. Totally teased you there with the shoot out-didn't I? :P Don't worry, more action to come in due time.