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Joey Merlino (NPC):
It is sweltering in South Philadelphia. Nearly 90 degrees and humid. Locals are accustomed to it, tourists loathe it, and newcomers to the city are often astounded that living in Philadelphia during the summer can often be akin to living in a swamp.
The Trattoria's front doors are open, and fans are blowing full force both back in the kitchen and in the seating areas. Air conditioning is not really something this place can afford, and in any case its clientele don't seem much to mind.
Out back there is a bocce field, covered by a canopy and featuring service from the rear bar. There's a side room for meetings, a basement for 'storage', and even housing above for the trattoria's owner. This place is lousy with mobsters most days. And today in particular. There's two made men watching the door, two more just inside reading newspapers and pretending to mind their own business, and then in the back of the dining room, at the corner table, is Joey Merlino. He's not your typical five figure Italian suit mobster. He's in a track suit, actually. And the men seated with him wear everything from bowling shirts to polos. Working stiffs. Gone are the days of the dominance of the Cosa Nostra. Mafia work is progressive these days!
Merlino is working his way through a clam linguine dish while hearing out those come to him with requests and reports. To his credit, he seems to actually be paying attention, too.
Micaela Fianze: Amidst the progressive ensembles and decor, Micaela Fianze stands out, although standing out is so often her burden, in the same uncanny fashion that she simply seems to belong wherever she goes, an assumed confidence gentled by cunning guile, and wide eyes.
She doesn't have to let herself in; the mobsters are eager to do it for her, and she rewards them all with eye contact, and a smile, and a 'Grazie', the corners of the word softened and inflected by a faint accent. Old country. One foot in the old world, and one in the new. This often leant an air of mystery around her, and her father besides, although it made some mistrustful; this was a new world, now. But to her, this doesn't matter. She's earned the Boss' trust, as far as she's aware, although trust is a funny thing.
"Joey." The word hits the air like a purr, and Micaela strides across the distance towards the empty seat across from the Boss. "Did it finally get too warm in Boca?"
Joey Merlino (NPC): "Micaeeeelaaaa," Joey croons when she steps into the dining room. He tugs the napkin out of his collar, daubs the corners of his mouth with it, tosses it over his plate, and slips out of his seat to come to his feet and walk her way with open arms. Once he's reached her he grasps her arms and leans in to kiss both of her cheeks. "More like it's getting too hot in Philly. These fucking K&A guys are busting our balls! I'm just trying to put matters right so we can all get back to what we do best."
He pauses, which provides the chance for the others at the table to chime in with, "Making money." Joey claps his hands together as he takes a step or two back and points a finger at her and at the men, "Making. Fucking. Money. This fighting has got to stop. So I'm glad you showed up. You hungry? Thirsty? Grab a seat." Joey starts heading back to his table and flicks his hands at the crowded seating, "Make room for the lady, Jesus. Who raised you goombas." A chorus of 'Sorry Joey's are mumbled as he settles back in and room is, indeed, made for her.
Micaela Fianze:
Micaela returns the continental double cheek kiss, squeezing Joey in a warm hug, and she follows him back to the table, goons shuffling out of the way like scolded children. "I wondered if that might be it," she allows with a smile, sliding into a seat. She's wearing a sleeveless button down blouse in a deep merlot and a pleated charcoal skirt, appropriately breathable enough for the weather.
She gestures for the usual to the server, and water; proper drinking is for celebrating, at least for her. "That's exactly what I want to talk to you about, is making money," she goes on. "But that can wait for a moment. Where is K&A hurting us the most?"
Joey Merlino (NPC):
"We've been trading shots on the east side. Around Allegheny. They don't run things proper over there. Not like we do. Hierarchy. Order. Discipline. Here, you want to move up you wait your turn. Follow orders, do the work, get the rewards. Over there, they got these fucking opportunists. Kids trying to make a name for themselves, figuring they can do it on our back. There was that shootout a while back. At Harrowgate, near Tioga. We lost two guys. Nearly lost a third. That was Irish. Now they're fucking with Tornetta, too. Also fucking Irish. And now I got Anthony Tornetta on my fucking ear yapping about how he pays for this shit not to happen to him. And he does, that's the shit of it. So we need to sort things out on those job sites. Fix the working conditions, swap out the grates, get the projects back on schedule. And I need three dead Irish. Tit for fucking tat. Preferably the fuckers that killed our guys, but I'm not picky. Once their nose is bloody we can offer our hand again. But I'm done taking hits on the chin and smiling about it."
Micaela Fianze:
Micaela leans back in her seat and exhales in consideration, beaming a sweet smile at the server who brings her water. Among another crowd or across from another man, and it might be unsettling how easy she shifts to that beguiling kindness and warmth in the midst of discussing revenge killings, but it's not another crowd, or another man.
"Three one-ways and a cleanup. Not for nothing, but that's where our shylock is hurting, too. They'll take a lower vig, next to a pittance, just to get the business. To balance that, laundering could expand, mine are virtually at peak capacity. It's a good problem to have, but it means buying more cash businesses. Maybe we take some of theirs?"
Joey Merlino (NPC):
"That would be an escalation at this point. The message I want to send is that we're not going to be pushed around, that we'll hit back if punched. If we start taking rackets over, that will shift the whole apple cart. The Greeks might get feisty, the JBM too. I want to maintain the detente. Get them back where they belong: doing what we fucking let them. If they answer our reprisal with more violence, then yeah. I want every Mick racket in East Kensington. I got some guys looking to get made, so if you want to make 'em work, you got my permission. They pay up. Good earners. They deserve their shot, and my bottom line won't suffer." There's always more wanting to work the street level stuff. Always.
"That said if we wind up winning a peace out that way, what sort of work you looking to expand into? Let's talk future." Joey lifts a hand and motions for the chorus of mooks to beat it. "Fellas, why don't you go play some bocce. We can pick this up later." They all file out obediently, leaving the pair to themselves.
Micaela Fianze:
"Fair enough. I'll make good use of them, then," Micaela nods, inclining her chin and beaming another of her enchanting smiles.
"If I handle this for us, when I handle this for us, I'll be candid, Joey: I want to go up." She punctuates this with a single finger, pointing up into the air. "We make good money. Quietly, without a fuss. Our dirty books couldn't be cleaner." And all of this is certainly leading up to something... "So, I want to move into the nightclubs. As an underboss." She raises her shoulders. "If not now, eventually. I think we can both agree that's where I'll be able to do my best work." Another of those smiles.
Joey Merlino (NPC):
"Why do you think I told the calzone crew to go throw balls? I knew this was coming." Joey doesn't seem phased, doesn't seem upset, doesn't seem resistant. But he's also a sociopath, so emotional reactions to things aren't exactly his cup of tea. "You're right. You've earned your shot. Same as these guys earned theirs. Show me you can run a crew. We'll get some more guys under you, increase what's feeding you, and let you get a nightclub up and off the ground. If you can keep these motherfuckers in line, the job is yours. But I can tell you a lot of these guys, they're not going to take kindly to you standing over them. You understand? Me and your dad come up together, so I did him the favor of letting you in the door. And you made it clear to me that was one of the best decisions I almost didn't make. Me, I'm on your side here. I want you there. I want you earning like you deserve to earn. I want you on the council. What I do not want is any of these pricks getting jealous and deciding to whack you. I'd tie the guy that did it to a chair, pour kerosense on his dick and watch it burn before beating him to death with a tire iron. But that wouldn't bring you back. I want to be sure you've thought this through."
Micaela Fianze:
"Thank you, Joey. I know you are speaking out of concern," or whatever the closest approximation to concern was that Joey was capable of. "And I appreciate you having confidence in me to get it done. I only hope," she says, leaning forward and taking his hand in hers and giving it a soft squeeze. Her manner is utterly affectionate and sincere. "That one of them tries," Micaela she goes calmly, casually. "And then I can make an example of him. Then I don't need to worry about many attacks; I need to worry about only one attack. And one, we can manage, mhm?" She lets his hand go, still smiling sweetly.
"So, we know that will be solved," she confirms as if this is handled business. "And I will be looking forward to getting my hands on the documentation for the men you're loaning to me, and the property. With thicker cash margins at the bar, you could probably look at double-dipping, cleaning funds through there, as well. I think this is what we call a win-win."
Joey Merlino (NPC):
"If one of them tries," Joey suggests, giving her hand a squeeze of his own, "you got my permission to handle it. I don't care who it is. What I say goes around here, and if I say you get some new guys and a club? You get some new guys and a club. Simple as that. Those guys work for you, they pay up to you, you pay up to me. That's the way this thing works." Joey swings his other hand over to rest it atop her own, giving it a paternal pat-pat. Literal Godfathers are good like that. Also figurative ones. He's both in this case. "So the second you get push back, you handle it. Handle it the way I'd handle it. Because if they disrespect you, that's disrespecting me. They need to see that. I support you. That's why you're getting this shot. And if they earned for me half as good as you do, they wouldn't be where they're at. Simple mathematics." He releases her hands and leans back into his seat, fishing out a pair of cigars from his track suit pocket. He cuts them both, handing one across the table to her. It's probably a c-bill in wrapped tobacco right there. A box of matches is used to light up his own cigar, which he rests back to relax and smoke.
"The ATM," that's Joey's remark. "A good club can churn through twenty to sixty thousand dollars a night out of the ATM. Plus, you can make back your shave by charging the ATM fee on site. Dirty money goes in, comes into the hands of customers, into the till as legitimate income. Especially if you jack up the prices and offer cash discounts at the bar. So you're earning, and you're laundering at the same time. It's god damned poetry."
Micaela Fianze:
"Grazie, borchia," Micaela returns in Italian. "I am sure we'll go through it, but we'll go through it once, and that will be the end of it," she agrees. "It will not be my first rodeo with jealous boys," she adds with an amiable, conspiratorial wink, accepting the cut cigar and lighting it up with rote familiarity. It's not her favorite, but when in Rome. She orders a cognac now, two of them.
"The flavors really open up against one another," she advises in an aside. "We should add cash-only bars, in the basement, or outside, or on the roof, or just in the back, wherever. Pump up the ATM usage," she muses, thanking the server when those drinks arrive, and sliding one across the table to Joey. "To good business," she offers, raising her glass in a toast.
Joey Merlino (NPC):
"Now you're speaking my language," Joey agrees with a predatory smile that does nothing to make his face at all charming. This man has a wife and kids and looks like a serial killer and a rat had a love child. "To good business. And to the future underboss of the Merlino Crime Family." Joey lifts his newly delivered cognac in toast and offers a quiet, "Salud." And then he takes a sip, followed by a few puffs of his cigar.
"So. You take care of this shit in Harrowgate and I'll have myself fitted for a tux for your grand opening. Do we have an understanding?"
Micaela Fianze:
"We have an understanding," she purrs in agreeable rejoinder from behind the rim of her glass.
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