Burn this City by Aleksandr Voinov
47
Jack sat in the Hunting Lodge’s bar, flicking through the links Sal had sent him. Apparently he’d collected images from various sources and had created a “mood board”, which seemed to be what architects worked from now rather than detailed specifications.
Jack tended to buy houses as they stood and make changes to them afterward, but Sal had found a plot of land he liked—close enough to reach the center in twenty minutes, but still surrounded by greenery and virgin forest. Jack was sure nobody received new building permissions in that stretch of land, otherwise the city’s tech and start-up hipster millionaires would have already turned it into their playground. But Sal had secured a plot somehow. Maybe from an associate, or he’d held it in reserve, or the Prizzi had something to do with it. In any case, the old buildings on it were already being pulled down and new construction began in earnest in spring.
The “mood board” made Jack smile. Sal wasn’t the type to ask his opinion about every little thing, but as he flicked through the images, he had to admit the architects had managed to make the house look like an organic whole, rather than a study in contrasts ripped from a hundred Pinterest boards. The mock-up images included shots of large windows opening out into the forest, and plenty of natural textures, wood grains in multiple colors, marble and sandstone tiles, natural rock walls, granite paving outside. It almost looked like a slightly different take on his own house up in the hills, except it also the more minimalist and enclosed spaces that Sal seemed to prefer. It would have a basement with a dedicated play area, and Jack wondered what the architects had made of the generous, well-lit and sound-proofed space.
A separate wing, housing a gym and indoor pool, could also be used for entertaining and had enough space for visitors. The other wing of the house was a totally independent living area and so closely matched Jack’s preferences for open lines of sight that he felt right at home there even though it didn’t exist yet.
A few weeks prior, Sal had told him to meet with Beth so she’d stop worrying about Jack, and he’d kept nagging until Jack had arranged lunch with her in a private restaurant back room. Beth had seemed happy to see them both, and Jack had bit his lips a few times as Sal lied so effortlessly and charmingly to her. She was doing well in her classes to train as an electrician, and after they’d parted, she’d texted him: “Keeper!!!” When Jack had shown him the message, Sal had laughed warmly, flattered.
Jack noticed people walk into the bar and pressed the button to switch off the tablet.
Cassaro and Guy Dommarco himself filed into the room, as well as a couple of guys for security reasons. They fell back and remained at the entrance, while Cassaro and the Dommarco boss continued onward. Jack stood and smiled.
“Jack. So good to see you. I was worried.” Cassaro sounded genuine enough, though the worry likely included a whole lot more than Jack’s survival.
“It’s been an interesting time. Let’s hope the rest of winter is quieter. Do you want to join me for a drink?”
Cassaro nodded, walked back to Dommarco, said something so low in his ear that Jack didn’t catch it, then Dommarco stepped close and shook Jack’s hand. “You would have been missed, Barsanti.”
“Thank you, sir. I hope you’re well?”
Guy Dommarco slid into the booth opposite Jack, and Cassaro came back from the bar a few moments later and sat on a chair. “Now, tell me what I should expect in there.”
Jack won a few seconds of time while the server brought drinks and olives and then vanished to the far end of the room to tidy the spotless bar. “Well, I believe Sal Rausa will negotiate about his future business interest in Port Francis, as they pertain to his family and yours. Nature abhors a vacuum, and we all know there have been some significant changes.”
Cassaro hmmmed. “What’s your position now?”
I’m literally in bed with the enemy, and positions remain interesting.Jack shrugged with a sigh. “Well, after the hostile merger, I’ve wound down the other business interests of the Lo Cascio. Mr. Rausa has driven a pretty hard bargain, but I also think he realizes that he’s unlikely to encounter any meaningful hostilities from that direction.”
“What about Vic Decesare?” Cassaro speared an olive.
Sal’s face had darkened when Jack had conveyed what he’d learned. After some deep soul-searching, he’d decided to let the natural killer do the work, but not out of a sense of mercy. “No longer a player,” Jack said as neutrally as he could. “Cancer’s a bastard.” And both men nodded solemnly at that.
The situation with the real killer had been different. The last thing Jack had heard was that he’d committed suicide in prison, helped along by an obliging cell mate whose girlfriend desperately needed help with a loan to keep a roof over her head. With all of that resolved, Sal had then focused on reorganizing his family, as well as those pieces of the Lo Cascio businesses that complemented his interests. They’d spent several days discussing what the Dommarco might offer in return for another peace agreement, and how to sell them the new deal.
Jack turned up his hands on the table briefly and shrugged again. “That’s the current state of things. From what I’m catching, Mr. Rausa has no interest in being the only player in town. The actions against Andrea were due to a personal grudge. I didn’t know Andrea had his wife murdered, so …”
“Yeah, I heard a rumor about that. It did seem too conveniently timed.” A rumor from Cassaro was gospel truth. “Well, Jack, thanks for giving us the lay of the land. That’s helpful.”
“Any time. I’m just going to … you know,” he dropped a hand on the tablet next to him and gave another sigh, “count my blessings.”
“Indeed”, Guy Dommarco said and rose again. “We’re lucky we don’t have the city swarming with Feds. Let’s keep it that way.”
“Exactly.”
Cassaro also stood, and Jack followed. “Listen, Jack, we respect you. If you need some new hunting grounds, we could use a good head like yours if you’re interested.”
“Thank you. I’m here strictly as an independent to help with the negotiations. I’d say Mr. Rausa doesn’t quite have my depth of experience when it comes to keeping the peace.”
Cassaro’s eyes sparked with amusement—he probably remembered that scene at the wedding too. “And after this?”
“Might be in everybody’s best interest if I accept Sal Rausa’s offer to join him. He’s in desperate need of a consigliere. I did consider retirement, but it’s not the right time.”
“He’s taking you in?” Cassaro raised an eyebrow. “How do you feel about that?”
Very good, thank you very much.
“It’s a good way to keep the peace. At least Sal Rausa isn’t a hothead like Andrea was. Nothing has changed. I still believe peace is better than war, and Port Francis is large enough for all of us.”
Cassaro and Dommarco exchanged a glance. That was clearly a surprise to them, and Jack assumed unease warred with relief. Sal would make an effort to sweeten the deal; it wasn’t Jack’s place to do that, except of course he’d coached Sal on exactly what to say. In the future, they’d probably be glad Jack kept Sal in check. The deeper dynamics were none of their business.
They shook hands and Cassaro, Dommarco and their little security detail left the bar to, no doubt, discuss the new information Jack had given them. Taking his time, Jack finished his coffee.
As he walked back toward Sal’s suite, it struck him as strange how much more clear-headed and optimistic he felt about these negotiations. Not only were they negotiating from a position of strength, but Jack, even though he had no official role as yet beyond “independent”, felt much more at ease about his own situation and much better in his skin. For the first time in his memory, that self-loathing and darkness wasn’t clawing against his skin from the inside. That, alone, was a blessing he could barely fathom.
But when he slid the key card through the lock to Sal’s suite, and entered to the sound of the shower from the generous bathroom, a warmth and calm came over him that made him positively giddy. The real challenge now was to not smile at Sal too fondly, or touch him in public. Much like the exact things they got up to in the bedroom, their love was a secret between them, and one that Jack gladly kept.
Speaking of what they did in the bedroom, they had four generous hours before the negotiations with the Dommarco started, and he’d finally decided that the rope color that complemented Sal’s skin best was black.