A Smile and A Gun// Part 3
Pairing: mob!tom and oc (Allison Carter)Word count: 3,911 Summary: The death of Tony Bellotina has left many people in varying states of grief and shock. Allison, Harrison, and Tom are all still coming to grips with losing their mentor, all the while trying to keep control over the mob empire and find out who is loyal, and who needs to be eliminated. A/N: Some cursing, (Tom and Allison both drop an F-bomb, but that’s it,) and sorry it isn’t much on the action front, hopefully the character development is good though. Hopefully part 4 will be a bit more exciting, it’s currently in the works and may take a bit longer than this one has.
The service was good. There were lots of people there; both mob related partners, and honest working people, like Albert, who never had any idea what Tony really did. Tony was a people person. It didn’t matter who you were, he’d give you a shot. I sat between Tom and Harrison, and I cried a lot, quietly leaning on each of them as they wrapped an arm around my shoulder and whispered softly to me. Harrison cried too. He grabbed my hand, and held it tightly, and I could feel it shake as he tried to gather himself. I don’t know how he did it, but Tom never openly cried during the actual service. He sat: his jaw clenched and his eyes red, and he’d look away, scowling and sucking on his teeth angrily, but I never saw a tear fall from his eyes. Once it was over, and Tony had been buried, Tom had stayed at the grave. I left him there, alone with his thoughts, and pulled Harrison with me. Together, we gently herded everyone inside, trying to give Tom as much privacy as we could.
“He was like a father to Tom,” I explain to another business man that had worked with Tony. “They were very close,” Harrison says with a pained smile to the little old lady that Tony had helped after her husband died, leaving her penniless. “He’ll be fine, he just needs a minute,” I assure the priest who gave the eulogy. “Tom didn’t really get a chance to say goodbye,” Harrison tells one of the other mourners, helping them to sit down. Gradually, everyone leaves; offering their condolences and telling us to let Tom know how sorry they are.
I sigh as I sit down, and rest my elbows on the table, my face in my hands. I’ve cried more than I ever have in my life, and I’ve faked more smiles than I did at my high school graduation. I groan as I rub my eyes, trying to make the swirling mass of faces that still clog my vision dissipate. A hand gently touches my shoulder and I lean back to find Harrison, holding a mug, with steam billowing out of it.
“Tea.” He explains gently as he sits down next to me, “Drink something.”
I smile gratefully, and take it from him. “Thank you.” I take a sip, and sigh again.
“I guess I never realized how many people Tony really touched.” Harrison admitted. “I knew how he worked, of course, and I knew what he did. I just never knew how- how-…”
“Generous he really was?” I offer, leaning back in my chair.
Harrison nods. “Did you know that he helped build the rehab center in New Canton?”
I shake my head, “Or how he paid for that nun’s nephew to go to college after her sister died?”
Harrison sighs again. “Yeah.” He looks out the window, and I see his shoulders slump. “He hasn’t moved at all.” He whispers.
I follow his gaze out the window, and sure enough, there’s Tom: frozen exactly as we left him. He stares at the name engraved on the headstone, one hand stuffed tightly in his pocket, and the other holding a box underneath of it.
“Do you think he has any idea how long it’s been?” I ask gently.
“No.” Harrison says, “I think he’s still trying to sort things out.” He glances around to make sure we’re alone before he continues. “He’s been under a lot of pressure the past few days. A few of the boys have left, said they were there to work for men, not kids. We still aren’t sure who the mole was, or who else there might be. He’s trying to be tough about it all, but I think it’s been really hard on him.”
I shake my head. “Of course it is. His only mentor is gone completely, and now he doesn’t really have anyone to turn to. Except for you.”
“And you.” Harrison says with a nod. “He asked you to side up for a reason, Allie. He trusts you, always has. And right now, that’s what he needs.”
I snort. “Sure it is. He just wanted to get me where he can keep control over me, before someone else offered up something better.”
Harrison shakes his head. “Trust me on this one. That is not why you’re here. You’re here because he needs you. He needs you more than me. He needs other people that Tony cared about, because he knows they’ll be more willing to help him out when he needs it. And you loved Tony, you said today he was like an uncle to you. So why wouldn’t you stick up for the next one?”
I shake my head again. “Sure, Haz.” I look out the window at Tom, and sigh, mulling things over. Maybe Harrison is serious. Maybe he isn’t. But either way, I don’t think I can just up and leave now. I know I technically can’t since I’ve sided up. But I’m not sure that I even want to now. Tom and Harrison are giving me a chance at something that I’ve never really had before, and that makes me both nervous, and very excited. “So what if you’re right?” I ask suddenly, surprising even myself, “What if I’m actually here because he needs someone like Tony?”
“Then I think he needs you right now.” Harrison answers quickly. “I think he needs someone he can be human with.”
**************************
I step outside, and sigh as I step towards Tom’s stone figure. I step quietly up next to him, and gently touch his elbow. He jumps and pulls away, blinking at me like he’s just woken up.
“Allie,” He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. “Hey. I uh, I just needed a few minutes.”
I nod, deciding it’s better not to tell him how long it’s really been. “Yeah.” I turn to face the headstone, my hand still on Tom’s elbow. I’m just about to ask if he wants to come inside when he speaks up.
“Tony didn’t leave everything to me.” He admits, shifting the box out from under his arm, “He left you a few things too.”
I stare at the box as he hands it to me. With shaking hands, I open it. I smile as I recognize the blue triangle that was the American flag that sat on the shelf behind his desk every time he met with me in his office.
“Funny thing is, I never really thought of Tony as a patriot until he met you.” Tom admitted, looking at the flag as I traced my finger over one of the stars, “Then you came and just sort of set something off. He started talking about his home; just to me, I think, but he told me he wasn’t really from New York.”
I smile, “He was from Ohio.” I agree, remembering how he would always light up when I brought him buckeye candies at Christmas, and all the little stories that he would tell me, then wince and tell me:
“Don’t tell that to anyone. Ever. Ohio thing.”
Tom nods. “He wanted to go home, I think. I think he missed it more than he wanted to admit.”
I nod, looking back at the box, my hand wrapped around another piece of fabric, this one also carefully folded, but tied with ribbon to a book, and a wooden spoon, a note pinned to the fabric.
My mother’s cookbook, apron, and spoon. These belong to the best chef I know.
“Flip that note over.” Tom says with half of a sad smile.
That’s Allison Carter. Just in case there was any confusion.
I laugh a little, fighting back tears as I close the box. “Thank you, Tom.”
We stand in silence for a while longer, nothing but the birds making a noise. I frown as the wind picks up, the slight breeze stirring the trees, and I glance at Tom from the corner of my eye. The sight of his face in that moment slashes me to the core like a searing knife. Tears stream silently down his face, and he shakes slightly as he tries to fight them back. I turn to face him, placing a hand on his arm as I do so. He gasps and looks at me, his face shattered and broken.
“Oh Tom,” I whisper and set the box down as he hangs his head, reaching his hand up to his eyes to wipe the tears away, “Tom…” He steps closer to me, and I hold both of his arms gently as he rests his forehead on my shoulder, sobbing and resting his hands on my hips. He cries for a long time, and I shift my arms so that they’re wrapped around him, the fingers of one hand gently playing with the hair at the back of his neck. I close my eyes, and a few tears of my own leak out, but not as many as Tom, who’s been holding back for days.
He lets out a shuttering gasp, and looks up, resting his chin on my shoulder now, instead of his forehead. “He’s gone, and I know it wasn’t a heart attack.” He hiccups, “Someone poisoned him, Als, and I’m gonna find out who.” I turn my head so that my ear is resting against him, and I rub my thumb in circles on the back of his neck, not saying anything. “They’re gonna pay. I’ll make them regret this; I swear to God, they’re gonna fucking pay.”
I sigh as he buries his face against my hair, my mind whirling. I know that Tom’s ripped up about Tony; he looked up to Tony like no one else has ever been admired. I also know that he learned a lot from the older boss, a lot of things that only people in Tony’s position of power would know. Tom’s always had good instincts, and with Tony’s help, he became very, very good at picking up on when someone is lying to him, or when something isn’t quite right. If Tom thinks that Tony was poisoned, I’m willing to bet that he has sound reason or a strong gut feeling about it. This isn’t just denial over the loss of his mentor. I have my own gut feeling about that.
I nod a little, and turn my head, so that our cheeks are resting against each other. “I’ll help you, Tom.” I whisper, “With all of it. I promise.”
We stand together for a few more minutes, as he gains control again, his trembling body gradually steadying again and his breathing slowing down. Finally, he sighs and shifts, pulling out of the hug. He stoops and picks up the box, offering it to me, and keeping a hand on me.
“Let’s go inside.” He says, “Harrison and I will drive you home.” We walk back inside, arms wrapped around each other, reminding ourselves that we aren’t alone in this mess.
I sigh as I walk over to Table One, the cookbook Tony left me in hand and the apron tied on, replacing my normal black one. It’s noon on my last day of freedom before Stahr’s men arrive to shadow me, and I’ve decided that I can afford to take a day to just sit and read, not really talking to anyone. I had planned to stay in my flat all morning, after opening the restaurant up, but no amount of music could distract me from the thoughts of yesterday, and I found myself staring at my coffee table, trying not to see Tom’s shattered face or feel his warm tears against my neck. After trying several different books and all of the CD’s I own, I came to the conclusion that maybe it would be better for me to come downstairs. So far, it seems to be working. A few people have smiled and waved sadly at me, but none of them have said more than a few words to me, and the only thing keeping me from opening the cookbook is the note in my hand; that had been pinned to the apron. I groan inwardly and set it aside, shaking my head. Just as I’m about to open the book however, a small cough stops me, and I look up.
“Dennis,” I say, smiling a little to the younger man that stands in front of me, “how are you? I can go get McKenzie, if you like.” I say, offering to fetch his girlfriend.
Dennis shakes his head, sending his mop of black hair flopping, “N-no thank you, Ms. Carter, Ma’am. I’m, I’m actually here to see you.” He stutters, his dark eyes flashing around the room quickly.
I frown for an instant, then wave my hand to the seat across from me. “I’m flattered. Have a seat.”
He nods, and I carefully look him over as he takes a seat. I haven’t really spent a lot of time around Dennis, to be perfectly honest. He’s dating McKenzie, who’s one of my waitresses and who works “the back” for me from time to time, when larger shipments come through. Dennis is around nineteen, with long black hair that he’s constantly flicking out of his eyes. He’s tall and rather skinny, and I’m not sure that I’ve ever seen him without his black leather jacket on. Perhaps his most defining feature, however, is his incredibly pale skin. I’m not kidding when I say that he makes fresh snow look like it’s been marched over by a herd of elephants. The contrast of his skin and hair make his eyes seem black, when in reality, they’re dark brown. While he’s usually quite pale, I can’t help but notice how remarkably paler he seems now, giving his face an almost gray-ish tinge. Aside from when he comes to get McKenzie, I’ve only seen him twice, when I paid him to help out with a few shipments.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Costello?” I ask, offering him a concerned smile. “I hope you don’t mind me saying it, but you don’t look so good.”
The boy licks his lips nervously and shakes his head. “’Kenzie told me about your last shipment.” He says, eyeing me carefully, “And I read in the paper about Tony Bellotina dying, that was who the shipment was supposed to go to, wasn’t it?”
I glance around quickly, before leaning on the table. “I hope she hasn’t told anyone else, Dennis.” I say, “That could be very bad for her.”
Dennis shakes his head quickly, “No ma’am,” He assures me, “Just me, I swear just me. I was just wondering, with Mr. Holland taking over, did you still owe a lot of money for the botched shipment?”
I weigh my options very carefully before I speak. Dennis was recommended to me by another smuggler, one that I work well with. I know the boy is generally very tight lipped, and tends to keep his nose out of trouble well. “Yes.” I finally say.
Dennis swallows and pulls out a beaten envelope, pushing it across the table. “Here,” he mutters quickly, “Use this to pay him off. I know I helped unload it when it got here, and you’ve helped me out with finding work a few times, I feel bad that you owe for something that wasn’t really your fault, you know? I just think you should get some help too, you know? Since you’ve helped me and all, I’ll help you and--”
I put up a hand, stopping the jolting ramble in its tracks, “Dennis, wait. While that’s very kind, and I appreciate it, it’s not necessary. I already paid Mr. Holland for it.”
Dennis swallows, and I can see his Adam’s apple bob as he shakes his head again, pushing the envelope insistently at me. “Please take it, Mrs. Carter.” For the first time since he’s come in, his eyes meet mine. “As an apology.”
I smile and shake my head. “Dennis, you don’t need to--”
“I’m the one who took it to Steven.” Dennis’s eyes drop away from mine and his hands fall under the table. “I didn’t want to do it, honest I didn’t. But see, ’Kenzie told me about this guy that had come to her on her way home one night, told her that he’d pay her triple what you were giving her if she could get it mixed up, see?” I catch my jaw clenching as I listen to him, and it takes a great deal of focus to keep a neutral expression as he continues. “And she told me that she’d split it with me if I helped her. So she helped load it that night, and then went home. But I went and knocked out the guy who was supposed to drive the lead truck, and I took his keys. And then, I told the others that Tony had changed the meeting place, and I took them to where Steven had told us to meet up. And we unloaded into their cars, and they gave me the money, and I took it home to ’Kenz, and she split it up with me. And then I felt awful about it. She spent all of her’s and I was going to use mine to pay rent, but I can’t, and I knew you’d owe Mr. Bellotina money, and so I thought…” He shrugs and trails off. “I’m really sorry, Mrs. Carter, ma’am. I really am.”
I sigh and say nothing for a few minutes. So now I know who the mole is. At least that’s one less problem for Tom and I to worry about, but now I have a new problem: getting rid of her.
“Well, thank you for your honesty and integrity, Mr. Costello.” I say, giving him a sloppy grin, “And I’m sorry that your girlfriend dragged you into all of this.” I push the envelope to him again. “As for the money, I really don’t need it. What I do need, is to hire you.”
Dennis’s eyes widen. “M-Mrs. Carter?”
“I need someone like you to be working on all of my shipments.” I explain. “I need you to keep an eye on things for me, and I need you to do it very carefully. I think you can do that, can’t you?”
“Yes ma’am. I think so, I can.”
I look up and smile, a little, but not as much as usual. “Yes, Miss Walker. Come in.”
McKenzie walks in, a confused grin on her face. “Is something the matter, Mrs. Carter?”
I stand, and walk around my desk, waving a hand to the chair, indicating that she take a seat, saying nothing. I cross my arms, and smile at her. “Can I ask you a question, McKenzie? How often do you tell your boyfriend about work?” I put a hand up and stop her answer before she gets started. “And not the regular part of it. The “back” of the restaurant.” McKenzie’s face drops a little and she opens her mouth. I hold up a finger and shake my head with a little smirk. “Now, granted, I’ve seen Dennis’s resume. He’s not unfamiliar with the business, so it isn’t much of a problem this time around. I just know that this is an easy habit to get into, and a hard one to get out of.”
“I-I know.” She stutters, looking down. “I just, just need someone to, to talk to.”
I nod. “I’m sure, I’m sure. I just think that in this case, a bit of tight lipped privacy is best.” I sigh and put my hands in my pocket. “You are lucky though.”
“I’m sorry?” McKenzie leans forward, looking confused, “Because …Dennis is …involved?”
I chuckle and run my tongue over my teeth. “No. You’re lucky that I’m as fond of second chances as I am. Because if I weren’t,” I pause and pull Tom’s gun out of my apron pocket, toying with the handle as I do. “we’d be having a much different conversation right now, McKenzie.”
McKenzie swallows hard, blinking, “I don’t know what you mean.”
I walk back around my desk, setting the gun on it, and leaning forward. “I mean that if you ever sell out on me, and fuck up another shipment again, you’d better hope that whatever they were offering you was worth it, because it’s all you’ll have left.” I growl.
McKenzie sits, frozen to the chair, her knuckles turning white on the armrests and her jaw clenched.
“And if you try to duck out on me, I swear to you, I will have a headhunter in every country who will be looking for you. Do I make myself clear, Miss Walker?”
I stand up, and straighten my apron, smiling pleasantly. “Excellent. Now, Table Thirteen will be ready for their drinks by now, won’t they?”
“Yes, ma’am.” McKenzie stands, and steps quickly out of the room.
I smirk as I sit down, picking up the gun. I spin it around my finger as I prop my feet up on my desk. I wink at the picture of Tony that sits on my desk. “Tommy was right, Tony. The gun is helpful to have around.”
I sit up, and finally open the cookbook. Tucked inside the front cover is a folded piece of paper. I frown as I pick it up, gingerly unfolding it. My heart stops as I recognize Tony’s handwriting scrawled across the page. I take a shaky breath as I start to read it.
------------------------------
Let me know what you think, and message me if you want to be put on the taglist! I love getting feedback, and I want this to be something you guys enjoy, so be honest about it.
Taglist: @toms-order @littlevelvethearts @supernaturallyholland
