Owned By the Boss by Noah Maddix
The Costellos
On the corner of Fifth Avenue and 19th Street in Manhattan stood a restaurant called Mama’s Old-Fashioned Afternoon, though most native New Yorkers shortened the name to MOFA. It served authentic Italian food presented by old lady Henrietta Stremmoli and her husband, Dirk, who immigrated to the United States from Sienna, Italy about thirty years ago.
In spite of the developments to the various buildings around theirs, MOFA had kept the same tattered, red, white and green striped awning and old mandolin music playing non-stop since their beginning. Everyone who entered MOFA was greeted by one of Henrietta and Dirk’s children or grandchildren and ushered to a table as old as the owners, where, if they were lucky, they’d get a visit from Henrietta and hear a far-too-long story about old Italy.
Tourists came to enjoy the unbeatable, authentic cuisine and a charming chat with the Stremmolis, but locals were drawn by something else.
The white iron double doors along the back wall.
To most people visiting MOFA for the first time ever, the doors just looked like the entrance to the kitchen or maybe even an exit to the alleyway in the back. But after multiple visits, it would become clear that kitchen staff drifted in and out of a swinging door to the left, and garbage was always carried down the hallway along the Eastern wall, past the bathrooms and through a door in the back. Wait staff, busboys, and even Henrietta and Dirk were never seen going through those double doors.
What was behind them?
Only a few select people knew that Nicholas Costello was a purveyor of authentic Italian food. It reminded him of the food his grandmother used to make for him back before she died. As a first generation Italian-American, he tried desperately to cling to the culture he grew up embroiled in, which was probably why he turned the small, family-owned restaurant into a safe haven. Nicholas had poured thousands of dollars into converting what used to be spare storage into a private dining room, with a massive, black marble plinth table with no leg room and L.E.D. lighting that kept the room totally exposed.
Nick Costello was a little paranoid.
The walls, though they’d been covered over with MOFA’s peeling wallpaper covered with designs of fake pillars and curtains, were bullet and soundproof, and the only way to access the room was through a door in the back of MOFA’s walk-in freezer in the kitchen. If Nick wasn’t already in the room, no one else could enter. He’d paid a handsome amount of money to use the restaurant as a meeting den where he could enjoy Henrietta’s lemon and herb bucatini with prosciutto and mushrooms—a dish designed specially for him.
It was here, on a Saturday afternoon, that the tides of fate turned against Nick Costello. Where he set into a motion a series of events that would eventually lead him to his own demise, however far away that demise might be.
“This place is so fucking pretentious,” Vincent hissed as he walked in and sat down. He kicked a leg forward out of irritation and immediately stubbed his toe on the plinth. “I hate this table.”
“Hush!” Nick waved a hand of sausage-like fingers at his son while ambling his way towards the head of the table. “It’s safer than something with an underside.”
Vincent rolled his eyes. “It also means that my knees come up to my goddamn nipples when I sit.”
“You got that height from your mother. Don’t blame me.” Nick threw himself down into his chair, a protesting squeak filling the room as it stressed under Nick’s weight.
Fortunately, Vincent had also inherited his mother’s fit frame, even if that was all he got. His diamond-shaped jaw was a gift from his father, along with his almond-shaped eyes and slightly larger than average ears. He distinguished himself from his father by wearing a goatee separated from a soul patch and full mustache at the base of his long, pointed nose. His hair he preferred to keep cut short, just long enough to drag his fingers through, but not much else, whereas his father’s graying hair was tied behind his head in a stringy, curly ponytail.
The room was barely large enough for the table, which meant as Nick’s entourage filed into the room, it became cramped beyond comfort. It never seemed to bother the senior Costello, but it nearly sent the younger over the edge.
“There’s no way this is practical,” he growled under his breath. “Why should we all cram in here because this man likes a thin noodle.”
Next to him, his best friend Mario ducked his head and laughed. “You know good and damn well as long as Etta keeps serving him bacon, he’s gonna keep coming back here. You stress yourself out way too much thinking otherwise.”
Nick eyed his son with irritation. “Do you two think I can’t hear you?”
Vincent rolled his head off to the side, tossing his father a narrowed gaze. “I wasn’t trying to speak as if you couldn’t.”
The sound of sucked teeth split through the room.
“Kids these days are so ungrateful,” Antonio huffed. He was a perfectly spherical man with a comically bushy mustache that made him look like a walrus. He excused himself along the wall until he could get to the chair to Nick’s left and sat down, then he stabbed a finger out at Vincent. “You should treat your papa with more respect. His hard work is why we can afford to do all this.”
Vince scoffed. “I don’t necessarily know that I would refer to stuffing into a coat closet with such wonderment, but then again, you’ve always been an easily impressed kind of guy, Tony.”
“Knock it off,” Nick barked, looking towards the door. “Hey? Can we hurry it up? I’m hungry!”
“My bad, boss!”
Justin, better known to the group as Andretti for the fact that he always seemed like he was on speed, hurried the last of Nick’s invitees into the room and then closed the freezer door. It would be opened only two more times while the group was there, once when Henrietta brought in the food, and again when they opened it to leave. Any additional times would draw attention, and not the good kind.
Someone might find themselves full of holes before they could say, “I’m just the inspector and this place is a major health code violation.”
Based on a true story.
Along with Nick, Vince, Mario, Antonio and Andretti, there were three other people at the table. Maximilian, also known as Mitzy, had been working with Nick for quite some time. He was a detective in New York’s organized crime unit, but lined his pockets by leveraging his position to others’ advantage. Then there were the siblings, Devrick and Tia. They fell under Nick’s employ but were quickly transferred to Vincent’s ranks as their youth aligned their motivations and strategies with the younger Costello more than they did the older. For these eight people around the table, this was an unprecedented meeting:
One between the boss, underboss, and caporegimes of the notorious and bloodthirsty Costello Family of New York City.
Nick headed the family as its boss, with his son Vincent as the underboss, and Antonio, Mario, and Devrick were the three caporegimes. Antonio represented Nick’s old-school style, Mario ran things from Vincent’s new-school point of view, and Devrick operated as a neutral party. Andretti was Nick’s consigliere, and though it was untraditional for Vincent to have his own consigliere as an underboss, Tia operated closely with him as something like one. Mitzy wasn’t an official member of the Costello Family, but his relationship with Nick was unshakable, mainly because it was so profitable.
And because Nick Costello knew exactly where Mitzy’s wife and kids were every hour of every day.
Vincent glanced towards the ceiling in irritation, earning himself a snort from his father.
“Something you want to say?” The older man mocked.
“Nope,” Vince replied, “I just want to get this over with.”
Nick’s finger turned red as he poked it against the table. “This is important, so just stuff that attitude away and pay attention.”
Devrick let out a dark laugh. “No offense, Nicky, but you always think it’s important and it almost never is.”
“Thank you,” Vince replied.
Nick bristled. “This actually is important.” He glowered at Devrick. “And watch how you speak to me. You’d be killed already if you were working with anyone else.”
Devrick was uncowed, but still said, “Yes, boss,” and quieted down.
“What is it?” Vincent said. “More interference from the Bonettis when all you’re going to decide to do is have one of ‘em capped?”
“Anytime I cap any of the Bonettis, it’s called for, but no. This is regarding our deal with the Petrovas,” he responded.
“We’ve got a shipment coming in on Friday. I’m handling things myself just like I do every time,” Vincent replied. He tried to take things a little more seriously for the sake of getting through the rest of the meeting pain-free.
“Yes, but this shipment is different.” Nick faced the table with a sickening grin. “This shipment is worth twenty-five million dollars.”
Everyone sat up a little straighter at the table, including Vincent, who looked at his father with a furrowed brow. “Twenty-five million? The most we ever do with the Petrovas is half a mil,” he wondered.
“Yes, well after speaking with Vladimir, we decided it was time to up the ante. New York’s been getting crowded, and we need to be doing ten times as much as the next guy over to stay on top. The drugs in the shipment are a Russian specialty. They’ll sell like wildfire at happy-ending parlors and whorehouses. They give users heightened endorphins while dulling everything else.”
“Feel happiness but not pain?” Mario commented. “I’d take that drug.”
“Yeah, well don’t,” Nick spat. “I want New Yorkers addicted to this stuff so fast it’s on the national news by next month.”
Mitzy leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. “Shouldn’t be too difficult. The summer’s the best time to introduce new shit to the streets. Let me know where you’ll most be distributing and I’ll make sure my men are looking the other way.”
“What’s the other ten million?” Vincent asked.
“Arms,” Nick replied, “assault, just like you asked for.”
A slick smile slipped across Vincent’s grin. “I appreciate your consideration.”
“You better not fuck up moving ‘em. I’m not about to go in the hole ten million dollars because you like your rifles automatic.”
Vincent flicked his wrist, rattling his expensive Rolex. “No one wants the old-fashioned pistols anymore, Pop. I promise you, I’ll have those guns gone so quick you’ll wish you’d doubled the order.”
That actually did bring a smile to Nick’s face, mostly because he liked whenever his son acted in the least subservient to him. “Good. If all goes well, this increases our order limit with the Petrovas. Bratva goods in NYC are going to carry all of us to an early retirement.”
“So long as you’re the only supplier,” Max said. “Don’t forget about that warning I gave you the other day.”
Nick’s good mood was dashed in a second. “I’m fully aware of the eyes watching us, but between you and Andretti, we’ll keep our supplier’s name out of anyone else’s ears. Vladimir is the top dog in Russia and he’s worked exclusively with us for over ten years. Shit, I trust him more than I trust half the men and women working under us here. So long as we don’t cross him, he won’t cross us.” He turned to look at Vincent. “Which is why I need you to handle this shipment differently from how you normally do it. None of that sleek black car shit. I want at least ten with you, and I want covert trucks. We don’t need some cop walking the beat looking at you sideways with all my money on you.”
Vincent frowned. “A few cars going in different directions is far less conspicuous than a fucking banana truck driving down the street from the dock at midnight.”
“I’ve been doing this for four decades. Listen to me,” Nick demanded.
“Times have changed,” Vincent spat back. “Your methods are outdated. I’ve never once been caught doing things my way and I’m going on ten years since you first started bleeding into me.”
There was an audible gurgle as Nick puffed out his chest at this. “Just once I wish you would rely on my knowledge. I didn’t get here by fucking around, you know?”
“Yeah, Vince!” Antonio backed him. “Anyone can see that Nicky’s method is better. Huh? Tia? Tell him.”
Tia looked over at Vincent with one of her thin eyebrows lifted. Her cocoa skin shone in the L.E.D. lights and there was a glint of entertainment in her round, brown eyes, though she kept her lips pursed in seriousness. “It might be advisable to listen in this circumstance.”
Nick slammed his hand on the table, rattling all the silverware, and pointed at Tia with a smile on his face. “Thank you!” Then he looked back to his son. “See? She’s your advisor. You should listen.”
Vincent exchanged a frustrated glance between Tia and Nick, even side-glancing Mario, who stared down at the table like he was counting the specks in the marbling. Finally, he sighed and said. “I will consider doing things that way. It really seems like a risk with such a big order. If the stuff gets lifted and can be connected back to the Petrovas, we could ruin one of our strongest international connections.”
“I don’t need you telling me how to run my business,” Nick grunted back. “Honestly, I thought we’d gotten all of the brainwash out of you after your mother kicked it. If that old bag I took you from could just roll over, we’d all be better off.”
“Hey, Nicky, come on,” Antonio said.
Devrick and Mitzy both shifted uncomfortably. Vincent leered at his old man, but didn’t respond. Nick had long since learned that Vincent’s late mother and the grandmother who took care of him in her wake were hot-buttons for his son. He knew exactly when and how to pluck those strings when he wanted to get a rise out of Vincent. It was easier to get his councilors to discredit Vincent and go with his suggestions when the younger man lost his cool.
To Nicky’s severe distaste, Vincent just gave him an evil smile that reflected one he’d flashed many times himself. “Well, I guess you just didn’t work hard enough to download your carbon copy onto my mainframe.”
Nick’s nostrils flared and he balled his fists so hard his hands started to turn red. That had been the issue at the end of the day. He had a son so that he would have someone to hand his legacy to. Vincent was supposed to be an embodiment of himself in a younger body, a way for Nick to continue ruling his empire long after he’d surpassed the age to do so. The problem was that Nick quickly discarded the woman he used to give him this son, and she fought to keep Vincent out of Nick’s line of work. Terrified of the man, she told Nick she just wanted to wait until Vincent was a little older before exposing him to the life, convincing him to let her mother raise Vincent until he was of sound age and mind.
Instead, they worked together to keep Vincent unexposed to Nick altogether.
Luckily, the mother of his child kicked the bucket when Vincent was around sixteen years old, giving Nick sole decision-making power over his child. He immediately took Vincent back from his grandmother and started working on raising the heir he’d been so long denied. It seemed to be working for years, but then Vincent developed a mind of his own in his early twenties and had been veering from Nick’s path ever since. He still wanted to rule the empire, but he wouldn’t do it while Nick pulled the strings.
And that simply didn’t work for Nick Costello.
“Mainframe,” Mario said with a little snicker, but when Nick turned a scathing gaze to him, he shut up quickly.
“This isn’t a suggestion,” Nick said. “If you can’t handle this, then I’ll find someone else to do it.”
Vincent’s smile only grew at that threat. “Okay. Have someone else do it.”
His jaw flexing repeatedly with anger, Nick just stared at his son. It was a bluff he was hoping his kid wouldn’t call. Nick didn’t trust anyone else to handle such a sizable order.
And Vince knew it.
Pride filled Vincent as he watched his father melt down before he finally sighed. “Look, I’ll bring trucks. Does that make you feel better?”
The chair let out a loud groan as Nick sat back. “Yes. Why would you be so combative just to agree in the end? Next time just do as I say and we’ll spare ourselves all this trouble.”
“I’ll get right on that,” Vincent replied flatly.
“Is that that then?” Antonio hummed. “I’m starving.”
“Yes.” Nick flicked his head towards Andretti, and the man jumped up and walked over to the door.
He opened it up and called out, “Hey! Let’s get some food in here!” and then came and sat back down, shutting the door behind him again. “On its way, boss.”
A knowing look was exchanged between Vincent, Mario, Devrick, and Tia and they each ate lightly. Italian food was something Vincent never got sick of, so they ate it frequently and got sick of it even more frequently. Nick rarely called his higher-ups all together though, so the dinner was a good opportunity for the younger of the group to meet up for a meal and a check-in of their own.
It turned into a long night of Nick gabbing on about how things used to be in Italy and stuffing his face with food before he finally released them to their own devices.
Vincent exploded from the back of the restaurant like he’d been stuffed into a corset, and Mario laughed. “You’re being overdramatic.”
“I hate it in there,” Vincent replied, earning himself a smack across the back of the head as Nick passed by. But his father didn’t say anything, just wandered off with Antonio talking his ear off and Andretti fluttering around them.
“Those meetings would go so much smoother if you just agreed with him,” Mitzy said.
“They’d go much smoother if he stopped having them,” Vincent said. “We’re going to get a drink, wanna come?”
Mitzy was older, closer to Nick and Tony in age, but Vincent liked the guy, always had. This long, blond hair and gnarled goatee made him look more like a biker than a cop, and unlike Tony, he seemed to understand that half the time Nick was functioning on outdated practices. On top of that, when Vincent helmed control of his father’s empire, he still wanted to be able to rely on Mitzy the way Nick could. Having a cop in your back pocket, especially one on the organized crime unit, was a benefit not to be ignored.
“Nah.” He pulled a thin white cigarette from his pocket and slipped it between his lips. “Wife’s expecting me home. The first couple weeks of summer break make these kids act like the world is ending. I’m gonna give her a break. Sit the kids in front of a video game and give the woman a foot rub or some shit. I don’t know how she does it.”
Tia crossed her arms. “A dirty cop, but a doting husband. Somewhere there’s someone waiting to do a sitcom about you.”
He flipped Tia off before walking down the street. Vincent just shook his head because he didn’t really get it. Being so attached to someone didn’t track with him. With a wealth of beautiful women walking around the world, many of whom were more than willing to just be one night’s entertainment, why would anyone ever lock themselves down to just one person?
Not far from MOFA was a sports bar that Vincent liked to use as a pickup spot. They had delicious food, cheap drinks, and after meeting with his council, he could find a woman to bring home for the night.
“Are you really gonna get covered trucks?” Devrick asked once they were seated with their drinks.
“Fuck no,” Vincent spat back. “I could just tell he wasn’t gonna let that shit go.”
Tia leaned her head on her hand. “I really do think there could be something to listening to your dad, Vince. He’s annoying as shit, don’t get me wrong, but he’s the most notorious gangster in New York. He knows what he’s doing, and that’s a lot of fucking money.”
“He was the most notorious gangster in New York,” Vincent replied. “He’s getting senile. Pretty soon he’s gonna lose his grip on this wheel and I’ll be there to take it over.” He tapped Mario’s shoulder. “You’re coming with me to handle that order, and we’re going alone. We’ll bring trucks for space, but they’ll look like golf-dad trucks because that shit won’t raise eyebrows on the streets. I’ll take the uptown path and you’ll take the downtown path and we’ll get to our destination as planned and without issue.”
Devrick shrugged. “That does sound like the better plan, T.”
She rolled her eyes at her brother. “I’m just an advisor. What do I know?”
“Come on, Tia. You know I take your opinion seriously, but have I failed with these pickups before?” Vincent looked at Tia, and she went silent. He nodded and huffed out, “Exactly. My dad’s had shipments lifted before. Trust me, when I get his goods from A to B, he’ll be perfectly fine.”
The waitress that had been handling their order swung by the table and dropped off their food. She had long, wavy black hair and innocent eyes hidden behind coke-bottle glasses. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked, making eyes at Vince.
“Just the time you get off,” Vincent replied simply.
She lifted an eyebrow and smiled. “Two,” she replied. “Can you stay up that late?
He laughed at her sass. “I’ll be waiting out front for you.”
“Cool,” she responded before drifting off.
Tia shook her head and scoffed. “You didn’t even ask her name.”
Mario let out a loud laugh. “That didn’t appear to matter to her.”
The conversation drifted away from Vincent’s old-fashioned father and moved onto his plans for the future. Mario, Devrick, and Tia were a good council. With them in his back pocket, he really could take over the world. He’d handle his father’s shipment with the Petrovas his way, and when things went exactly as they were supposed to, he’d weasel that contact out of his father and start his takeover. He wanted Nick Costello on a countdown.
Sit back, old man, and let the next generation do the work.
Exactly as Vincent promised he would, he waited outside after the bar closed for the waitress he’d met, Kristen, a college student living off her tips.
“I could be gentlemanly and ask if you wanna find some place to get a bite,” he said, “but that’s not what I want to do.”
She shook her head. “I’ve had a very long night at work. I’m not hungry, I need to blow off some steam.”
“My specialty,” Vince responded, then opened the passenger’s side car door for her to get in. With a smile on his face, he walked over to the driver’s side and got in. He doubted Kristen was going to be the exciting sexual adversary he’d been looking for as of late, but with curves like hers, he’d make do.
As the car pulled off down the street, Tia stepped out from the shadows of the nearby alleyway and scowled after them. Vincent was a tool, and not even a sharp one as far as she was concerned. He certainly hadn’t gotten the Costello brain, attractiveness aside. Not that she preferred to waste her time dealing with romance or relationships regardless, but she could see the appeal of the younger Costello from that angle.
Still, he should leave the running of any important businesses to a seasoned professional.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked her texts. She had a response to the most recent one she’d sent, a very simple, “MOFA.”
With a sigh, Tia picked her way back through the isolated downtown streets towards the Italian joint. It was a good four blocks away, but the fresh air was nice. She’d ordered a ride into town in case she drank anyway, so where she was when she had to call back home didn’t really matter.
“Hey, baby.” A man slunk out from between a couple of buildings with booze wafting off of him. “Come spend some time with me.”
“No thanks, I like my brain cells,” she replied simply, continuing her stride.
He came after her, slurring, as he said, “Hey don’t be such a bitch. Let’s have some fun.” Making the last mistake he’d ever make in his life, he swung his hand forward and swatted her on the ass.
She turned around and looked at him. “You know what, that ass slap really did it for me. Where should we go?”
He smiled. “That’s more like it.” Then he looked back over at the alley he’d just wandered from. “We should have enough privacy back there.”
“Great.”
Tia followed as the drunkard led the way back between the buildings, looking in both directions up the street before slipping in after him.
Not a slow man by any means, he had already removed his cock from his pants and was stroking it to full length. It was unfortunate that he was such a jerk and that Tia had no interest, because it wasn’t half-bad.
If only he’d been more discerning with how he used it.
“Now get down there,” the man said, “and treat it nice.”
A menacing grin slithered across Tia’s face. “Oh I’d love to.”
She walked up to him, crouching down in front of him. She hooked her fingers into the handle of the blade she kept stuffed up her sleeve and whipped it out. With lightning speed, she dragged it left across his appendage, splattering blood across her face. One stroke wasn’t enough to take it off, so she pulled it back the other way. His cock split from his body, falling to the floor before he fell behind it, letting out a litany of blood-curdling screams.
Tia stood up and looked down at him. “Oh… is that not what you wanted me to do?” She just watched him unamused for a minute and then sighed. “I really didn’t want to have to clean up a mess today.”
“I guess we’ve got good timing then,” a voice said from behind her. She turned around to see Nick standing there with Andretti at his side. He flicked his head forward and said, “Put that bastard out of his misery, then call Mitzy.”
“Yes, boss!” Andretti rushed up, giving Tia a wide berth as he passed, then pulled a gun out of the back of his pants. He pointed it down at the guy and shot him in the chest, silencing the screams, then he yelped. “Did you cut his dick off?!”
“I told him no, and he didn’t listen,” Tia responded.
“One day your reputation will precede you,” Nick said.
Tia smiled at him. “With your help, it’ll be sooner rather than later.”
“So that kid of mine isn’t doing what I told him to, huh?” Nick said, lighting up a cigarette.
“Same old, same old. Thinks he knows best,” Tia replied. “You want me to stop him?”
“No,” Nick said. “Let him do it. Either way it works out for us, if it’s successful, then we have nothing to worry about, but if he fails, well…” Nick smiled wickedly. “Twenty-five million is certainly justification for killing your own son, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’d give you less,” Tia said.
Nick felt good about this new relationship. He hadn’t been working with Tia for long, but when she approached him with a proposition, he was hard-pressed to turn her down. She wanted to climb the ladder and was willing to do Nick’s bidding to get there. If things worked out in his favor, he’d get rid of Vincent before he managed to snatch his hard-built empire from his hands.
“What should I do next?” Tia asked.
Nick loved the sound of someone deferring to him entirely.
A puff of smoke filled the summer air around him as he blew out his cigarette. “Just go back to him and continue to play the role as his trusted advisor. If not now, then eventually an opportunity for his demise will present itself. That is when we strike.”