La familia

This is a follow up to the earlier story “An offer I could refuse”

It had been two years since I last met Luciano and La Familia. Now I was having a conversation and a glass of wine with his daughter at a members club on the New York Upper East Side. I asked how her father was doing. She shrugged and grimaced – just like Luciano used to. I commented on this and told her I loved his stories. She looked at me questioningly. His stories? What stories? She looked both surprised and a little scared. You know; the stories. The ones he told during dinner a couple of years ago. She looked at me puzzled. Did he tell stories during that dinner? I do not remember that. Well; I explained that it might not be stories as such – but it might be that I put things he had said during dinner into stories. I blamed my love for old mafia movies and good imagination.

She looked at me for a long time without saying anything. Is something wrong? I said after a while when the silence began to get a little embarrassing. I’m just trying to figure out who you are, she said. They say it is a good rule to think twice before answering, but that does not always work for me. I’m a Gambino I replied. She was just taking a sip of wine, but my answer made her inhale and she began to cough. Okay – she said after gaining control of the coughing. What stories!

I explained that I was writing short stories and that I had written one after the dinner with her family two years ago. Luciano´s body language and stories fit perfectly into every Mafia stereotypes. Luciano is from Sicily, worked as a New York accountant all his life, uses phrases like It fell off the truck, pays local drunks who he claims works for him, and when we found out I was in the market for a half carat diamond ring he said; Go to my guy in New York. He´s the best! He´ll get you anything you want. Where else do you hear sentences like this? Only in old mafia movies.

She had not said anything while I was talking. She just looked at me with open and questioning eyes. You mean Jeff? – she said after an awkward pause. Did you go see him? Jeff? Who’s Jeff? Now she had a serious but playful look. Jeff is the guy with the diamonds. He’s really the best. Do you see this necklace? Jeff made it for me. She pulled her blouse aside a bit and revealed a solid necklace that literary lit up the room. These are emeralds. Jeff gave me a bag of emeralds worth around one hundred thousand dollars, some new, some old and some uncut and told me to take them home and pick out the ones I wanted for my necklace.

You should have gone to Jeff. He´s really the best.