Unmarked Warehouse

All this stuff? Fell off a truck.

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R.I.P.

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The Grissi Brothers Ch.1-2

Giuseppe’s black LeSabre flew through the clouded night, dipping into the oncoming lane and swerving in front of a rusty pickup. The truck’s horn blared lethargically as the two brothers sailed away. “Not too fast,” said Gusto easily, “we can’t have A.C. Johnny hearing from one of his cops we were out here.”

“I’m goin’ the limit,” complained Giuseppe.

“You’re drivin’ like we’re on the fuckin’ Belt Parkway, you even know what the limit is?" Gusto didn't give his brother time to respond. "It’s thirty-five, I read the sign back there. And it says you’re goin’ fifty on the dial.”

“Don’t talk to me like that, Gus,” snapped Giuseppe, “you think I don’t know how to drive? I shot Little Mel, okay, and now I’m drivin’ us out to Jersey at one o’clock in the fuckin’ mornin’.” Giuseppe’s foot grew leaden with anger, weighing on the accelerator. The Buick’s V8 roared as they picked up speed. “And still you got the nerve to tell me what the fuck I’m doin’ wrong.” Gusto instinctively gripped the folded armrest between him and his brother and braced himself against his seat.

  “Who told you to shoot the prick,” spat Gusto, “did I? We were just gonna talk some sense into him, I said. If Paulie finds out it was us that did him he’ll–”

“He was goin’ for his gun!” Giuseppe’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel as he shouted. “And since when was Melly the kinda guy to see sense unless he was the one makin’ it? I shoulda let him blow your thick fuckin’ head off.”

“Oh!” bellowed Gusto, “the fuck’s the matter with you?” The brothers fell silent. Gusto reached into his pocket and, hands trembling almost imperceptibly, removed a pouch of tobacco and rolled a crooked cigarette. He lit it and closed his eyes while he inhaled. Giuseppe eased off the gas and the car slowly began to lose momentum.

“I’m just tired is all, Gus,” sighed Giuseppe, ”I didn’t get no sleep last night and now we’re out late again. I was on a good schedule. With that thing in the morning it’ll be two full days before I get any rest.” Gusto was quiet a moment longer, smoking ponderously and staring out the passenger window. “You know I’d never wish you dead, not really.”

“I know,” replied Gusto, “I know. I’m sorry I came down on you, too. My blood’s been runnin’ hot tonight because of that asshole in the trunk. We’re gettin’ close now, and I’ll drive us back. You can take a nap.”

“You know I can’t sleep any in the car,” said Giuseppe defeatedly, “the motion keeps me up.”

“We’ll pull the seat forward, you can lay in the back,” offered Gusto, “rest your eyes at least.” He took another long drag from his cigarette. “You want a smoke?”

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This scene was actually so sad.

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The Grissi Brothers Ch. 1-1

One shot is all it took. It caught Little Mel Giardino just above his left eye and flushed half his brain out the back of his head. He had been leaning back in his chair a second before and now laid in a sprawl, smouldering cigar still sitting in his open mouth. When the bullet struck Mel he was struggling to keep his balance while he pulled his pistol from its holster at the side of his gut. His tasseled Italian loafers smacked the underside of the card table he had been sharing with his killers, almost tossing it over as he pitched backwards. The felted surface was now saturated in a slurry of ash and spilled whiskey. “Hoho! We always said he couldn’t be on time to save his life,” cried Giuseppe Grissi. He loomed over the small table studying Mel, still grinning at the dead man over the barrel of his .38. His massive frame cast a long shadow over the lifeless body of his former associate.

“The little bastard shoulda kept his fuckin’ mouth shut.” Gusto Grissi sat near motionless next to his younger brother, eyes shaded under the brim of his hat by the single bare bulb dangling by the door. He uttered his unfeeling condemnation before yawning quietly. “Cocksucker had to go and ruin my night instead.” He surveyed his surroundings for a moment, inhaling from a hand-rolled cigarette he held between his fingers. “Old man Lafranco’s gonna blow his stack when he sees this. He just got the table retouched last month. Help me move him before he ruins the carpet, too.” Gusto raised the stubby cigarette to his lips and took one last, long drag before putting it out on the ruined felt.

“You’re never gonna get that out, Gus,” replied Giuseppe, “let’s just roll him up. We oughta take him out to Jersey tonight, get him in the ground before he don’t show up to that thing tomorrow.” Gusto let out a raspy chuckle as he bobbed his head slowly, a swirling cloud of tobacco smoke tumbling over itself out of his lungs and into the incandescent light.

“Gonna be a long night, Joe.”

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Oh!

I'm gonna keep this brief because I doubt anyone will read it. I am new to Tumblr and to sharing my writing. This is the home of my mob fiction The Grissi Brothers and, more expansively, any cool Mafia content. Big fan of Goodfellas, the Sopranos, etc. Anyone is welcome so long as they are respectful. I'll try to post something at least once a week but no guarantees. Everyone be well.