The Dame Did It (6 page)

“I think you should’a brought more men,
Boss,” Fido opined in a dull New York accent. “I don’t trust Vito
Gambino as far as I could throw him. Ever since he got outta the
Big House and ‘took over’ from Lenny, he’s been makin’ inroads into
your turf. ‘Specially when you consider the losses that happened
last year when the New Orleans branch of his family went to war
with the Ponti’s.”

“Your opinions are noted,” Don Provenzo
stated with glum confidence. “But I’m a man of my word, and I
didn’t get where I am today by breaking it with impunity. Vito and
I both agreed: Three trigger men each for security, and no more. He
could bring his latest moll, and I would bring the little girl
here, both for good faith. And that little diner in West Seneca is
neutral territory, so—”

“I ain’t a little girl no more, Papa,” Gia
interceded in a highly frustrated tone. “Or, haven’t you noticed
this
lately?” she said as she made a point to pump out her
chest so as to emphasis the shape of her prominent bosom.

“For God’s sakes, you mind your manners,
little girl!” the Don shouted in anger. “There will be no conduct
like that from you around me, I didn’t raise you that way!” He then
turned to the admiring eyes of Ira, with a glare evoking the fury
of a triggered Tommy gun. “And what the holy hell do you think
you’re
looking at, you filthy little bug?”

“I wasn’t looking at nothing, Boss,” Ira
answered with a nervous and rushed tone. “I just turned to the
sound of Gia’s voice, that’s all.”

“Like hell you did!” Gino exclaimed,
extending his chunky index finger into the shaking gunman’s face.
“You keep your eyes off of my little girl along with your filthy
thoughts, or the next overcoat I buy for you will be Chicago-style,
got it?”

Ira gulped anxiously, struggling to maintain
his usual cool composure. “I… I hear you, Boss.”

“Oh, lay off, Papa!” Gia groaned. “Ya wanna
know how you raised me? To be a little girl forever! Well guess
what? I’m 23 now, so nature has officially spoiled your
upbringing!”

“When you’re in my presence, girl, you will
conduct yourself according to the good Christian values I—”

Gino found his spiel abruptly cut off as a
seemingly drunken youngish heavyset woman wearing tattered clothing
of unusual design stumbled in front of the car. Fido swerved the
vehicle just in time, and the tires screeched with an ear-splitting
cacophony as it barely missed the errant jaywalker.

“Watch it, you fuckin’ creampuff!” the
ragged woman yelled as the car swung around her.

“God damned homeless trash!” Gino hollered.
“My driver just missed doing you a big favor, as well as a big
favor to every respectable person in the city! People may want to
eat
in that park, you know!”

Before carrying out her intention to throw a
string of further expletives at the Don, the young woman’s eyes
suddenly sprung open with astonished recognition. “Oh my God,
you’re… you’re Gino Provenzo! You’re my… distant relative! You can
help me!”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Gino lamented. “Now
she’s gonna ask me for some kind of charitable contribution to her
worthless life by claiming to be related to me. Fido, drive on, we
don’t have time for this shit!”

“Gotcha, Boss,” Fido acknowledged, hitting
the accelerator and driving away. “But I wonder how she knew who ya
was? She recognized ya.”

“Hardly surprising, considering how my face
has been plastered in all the local news rags since this Gambino
crap got started,” the Don noted with frustration. “She probably
pulled some papers from the trash can to use as her blanket last
night, or to wipe her ass or something, when she saw my
picture…”

Gia suddenly snickered audibly. Ira
noticeably bit his lower lip and suppressed any reaction.

“What?” Gino asked.

“Just got a kick outta the symbolism there,
Papa,” she replied with a snigger.

Gino glowered. “What do you mean by
that?”

“Nothin’, nothin’,” she said with another
snigger. “Hey, Fido, don’t these new-fangled autos have built-in
radios? Papa told me they did when he bought this beauty a few days
ago.”

“Yes they do, Miss Gia,” Fido responded.
“Want me to turn it on for you and see what’s playin’?”

“Yes, please be a dear and do that,” she
affirmed.

Fido switched on the radio, and the tune of
Guy Lombardo’s rendition of “The Land Round-Up” provided a pleasant
symphony to Gia’s ears. She relaxed against the comfortable back
seat of the car and listened in peaceful relaxation, unaware of
what The Fates had in store for her once her party’s destination
was reached. If she had, she would have made an effort to enjoy the
tranquility she now felt as much as possible.

* * *

Roughly 45 minutes later, Fido pulled the Cabriolet
into the parking lot of Alex’s Diner, a small but popular diner on
the outskirts of the eccentric town of West Seneca. It was located
in an area outside the usual trading routes of both families,
including away from the border of Canada. This eatery was one of
the small number of ideal places in the Western New York vicinity
that members of both families could meet and consider neutral
ground. In fact, Gino and Pinaro had eaten lunch in this quaint
little place run by Ukrainian immigrants just a few weeks ago, and
a brief prior call to some of his real estate contacts made it
clear that no one remotely connected to the Gambino Family of
Western New York owned the diner. Also, the food there was quite
good, and offered a nice occasional alternative to the Italian
cuisine they usually consumed.

The entourage exited the vehicle in the
usual security-conscious fashion. Directed by Fido, Gino’s head of
security, the former exited the driver’s side while Pinaro
simultaneously disembarked from the passenger door. The two men
then walked around to the left side of the car and opened the back
door, covering the flank of both Gino and Gia. Ira exited in the
other direction, giving an ocular scan of the vicinity as he did
so. When all decided the coast was clear, Fido signaled it was safe
to approach the diner and enter. Due to the restaurant’s
neutrality, Gino was certain that Vito Gambino had no funny
business in mind, but Fido took his job seriously and was taking no
chances. He couldn’t help smelling a big, dead rat festering under
the summer heat.

“There’s Gambino’s auto over there,” Gino
pointed out as he noticed the shiny, azure blue Cadillac Twelve.
“It figures that big Mama Luke had to get here first.”

“That just means we get this over with
sooner, Papa,” Gia noted with a grin. “I don’t wanna miss the
premiere of
Hold Your Man
at the Regal tonight.”

“That’s the new picture show with that Jean
Harlot broad, right?” Pinaro queried.

“That’s
Harlow
, you mook!” Ira
corrected him.

“Whoops!” the lean and muscular bodyguard
flippantly apologized. “I just call ’em like I see ’em.”

“Hell to the highway with her!” Gia
lamented. “I’m going to see it for Clark Gable. He looks really
stellar in those suits of his, like the type of gentleman every gal
dreams of having for a husband.”

“Hmf…” Ira was heard to audibly scowl under
his breath, albeit barely.

“Gable?” Pinaro retorted with a look of
incredulity upon his chiseled visage. “Rumor through the Hollywood
grapevine has it that he’s fruitier than a can of Del Monte’s
finest, and more ‘strange’ than a three dollar bill.”

“He is
not
!” Gia exclaimed. “That man
is far too handsome and charming to be queer status!”

Pinaro began laughing, while Ira continued
to scowl. “Trust me, honey, you’d get more loving attention being
married to your own fingers than the likes of him, if ya get my
meaning.”

Pinaro’s next laugh at his own joke was
cruelly cut off as Gino turned and slugged him in the stomach. The
man’s swing was startlingly fast, with more than enough force to
send the well-muscled, much younger man to the ground. Pinaro held
a hand over his pain-wracked lower abdomen as he gasped for breath
and struggled to get back on his feet.

“You stifle that talk in front of my little
girl!” Gino bellowed in his gruff voice, while he utilized every
iota of his willpower to suppress his own urge to follow up the
blow with a kick to his loyal employee’s face. “She’s a lady, not
one of those shameless whores you usually keep company with!”

Gia moved forward and grabbed her father’s
arm, hoping to ease his legendary temper. “Papa, that wasn’t
necessary; you know Frank didn’t mean nothin’ by his comment. He
was only joking and being his usual self.”

“Well, I don’t like his usual self when he’s
around you!” Gino hollered. He then turned back to the still
grounded Pinaro. “Just consider your hairy little bum lucky that I
got need of you right now, or I would personally kill you… with my
bare hands and feet. Now get up, fix your suit, and look
presentable again. You’re about to attend an important business
meeting, and you can’t do that looking like you slept in that
outfit.”

“Sure… sure, Boss,” Pinaro gasped as Ira
held out his hand and helped him back to his feet. The tough young
bodyguard was thankful he hadn’t eaten lunch before taking that
punch, or he knew he would have lost it on the parking lot ground
and received further embarrassment.

“Dammit, Papa, I’m not some chaste little
girl that don’t know nothing about the world!” Gia protested. “You
gotta stop coddling me like this!”

“Watch your mouth, young lady,” Gino
replied. “It’s un-ladylike to use profanity, especially in public,
and that’s—”

“—not how you raised me, I know,” Gia
finished her father’s sentence. “Well, maybe I’ve been raising
myself all these years too, ‘specially since becoming a woman, and
I know lots more about this stuff than you think.”

“What do you mean by that?” Gino wondered
aloud. “Have you been whoring around behind my back? I told these
guys of mine to watch you! Or, maybe some of them have been
watching you a bit
too closely
?”

Ira gulped involuntarily, and loud enough to
be heard. Gino’s accusatory glare then focused exclusively on him,
instead of all three of his nervous guards.

“Got something you wanna tell me, you filthy
Irish bug?” Gino asked the slightly trembling Irish/Italian hybrid
while grabbing the lapel of his double-breasted dress coat. “You
gonna tell me, or do I have to beat you until you do?”

“Boss, I…” were the only words Ira could get
out before his voice petered out.

“You son of a bitch!” Gino hollered as he
clenched his free fist and moved it into pummeling position. He
found his intention obstructed when his daughter grasped his raised
arm with surprising strength.

“Papa, no, it’s not like that!” she pleaded.
“Ira and I are in love, he don’t treat me like no whore!”

“In love?” the now thoroughly red-faced Don
said with astonishment. “What the hell do you know about love?
You’re only—”

“—
twenty-three
, Papa,” she again
finished his sentence. “And Mama, God rest her soul, was younger
than me when you married her!”

“That was different!” Gino insisted. “I
courted her the proper way, got her father’s blessing and approval.
I didn’t sneak around like a little weasel!”

“I’m a grown woman, and I have every right
to ‘sneak around’ as I please!” Gia shouted with extreme
conviction. “This is not old world Italy, this is America, and you
don’t own me! I was born here, and I now even have the right to
vote, for God’s sake!”

Gino’s vicious demeanor suddenly softened,
and his grip on Ira’s collar went slack. The young man then
breathed a huge sigh of relief, thinking he may actually survive
this day.

“How could you disrespect me like this?” the
Don asked his beloved daughter in a melancholy voice she hadn’t
heard from him since the night her mother died. “I’m the man who
raised you, I gave you everything…”

“I didn’t do this to disrespect you, Papa,”
Gia replied in a lower tone. “I did this ’cause I’m my own woman,
and this has made me happy. It wasn’t about you, okay?”

“Boss… Mr. Provenzo, can I please say
something?” Ira suddenly interjected with a slight stammer. “I’m
sorry we didn’t tell you, it was my fault, and I thought you
would—”

Don Provenzo abruptly ended Ira’s attempted
plea by sticking his meaty index finger in his face. “Don’t make
excuses for her! Or for yourself. We have an important meeting to
get out of the way now, but you can bet your hooch-swilling little
Irish ass that we’re gonna talk long and hard about this
afterwards. Got it?”

“I got it, Boss,” was Ira’s nervous reply,
as the combination of his terror and the summer sun caused him to
perspire so much that he hoped his suit wasn’t soaked.

“Then let’s take care of this shit,” Gino
said as he directed his entourage to continue towards the diner
entrance. “We’ll pick up on this later.”

Gia then approached Ira and took his arm,
speaking to him softly. “Don’t worry, it’s gonna be okay. I told
you he was gonna find out sooner or later, and now that it’s outta
the bag we’ll deal with it together, all right?”

Ira simply nodded his head and followed his
boss into the restaurant, not uttering another word.

* * *

The quaint but clean interior of Alex’s Diner was
certainly not the posh eatery that people of Gino’s caliber were
accustomed to. But he understood the importance of the location’s
neutrality, and he was here to dispense important business, not
treat himself to a meal fully worthy of a man of his station. He
noticed but one other customer: A young woman in a flowered dress
who couldn’t be older than 19 sequestered in a distant corner
table, quietly reading the latest issue of
The Buffalo News
and sipping on a milkshake. A few employees, consisting of two
middle-aged women dressed in typical drab restaurant work attire
and aprons, furtively went about their business behind the counter.
They said nothing to each other or the newest group of patrons
entering the establishment.