Chapter Text
"Yeah. That's right. He set me straight. He set us all straight..."
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"There's a lot of buzz around town about you guys," Consigliere mentioned casually. Contractee glanced over at him for a brief second as he started the car, his other hand gripping the steering wheel.
"Yeah, we got into a little scrap last night, it's no big deal." Contractee dismissed, starting the car off the side of the street and down the road.
Consigliere seemed bothered, but kept his tone steady and composed. "I don't care about the bar fight, Con," he paused, letting out a subtle breath through his nose. "I care how it looks when you walk into a club and buy everyone a round."
Contractee took his gaze off of the road in favor of taking a glimpse of Consigliere's face. "Ah, we gotta do somethin' with our dough," he sighed, turning his focus back to the road as he drove steadily as though it were something he'd done a million times before.
"Then blow it at the track on Sunday," Consigliere took a moment to think, his head turning ever so slightly towards the man sitting in the driver's seat. "Or take a dame to a show—Or invest it, for Christ's sake."
Contractee couldn't help but chuckle, finding the opportunity to make a joke. "You want me to become one of those Wall Street boys?"
"Don't sass me, Contractee." Consigliere suddenly spoke with a firmness that made Contractee's grin fade, a sense of awkwardness filling the air between them. "I'm trying to teach you the ropes so you don't get strangled by them."
The sounds the car made felt a lot louder than usual, even with Contractee having his headphones on. It nearly made his head hurt.
"You ever have a dog, Con?" Consigliere suddenly asked. He at least seemed a little calmer now, which was enough to make Contractee relax.
"Sure," he inhaled, hoping his nervousness wasn't too noticeable. "Little mutt, when I was a kid."
Consigliere began, "When I was eight or nine, before I came over from Sicily, I had this beautiful skinny Cirneco dell'Etna. Like a little greyhound..." There was a hint of fondness in his tone, and something deeper. Sorrow, maybe. Contractee nodded along, turning the steering wheel accordingly. "Fastest dog you've ever seen. That's how I met the Don. We started setting up races together, betting on her with coins and rifle shells."
"There wasn't another dog that could catch her. She never lost." Contractee could've sworn he'd caught the beginnings of a smile gracing Consigliere's face, but it disappeared as soon as it'd shown up.
"Until the day she did." The tone was enough to make Contractee glance over again in concern, but he quickly focused back on the road. "We were only out a pocket knife, but... I never saw the Don so angry."
"She got old on you?" Contractee piped up, taking quick glances at Consigliere here and there while simultaneously trying to avoid crashing the car.
"No. Pregnant," Consigliere clarified, remembering it as though it were just yesterday he'd found out. "She went into heat, got out of the yard, and every dog in town had a turn."
"You're like that dog, Contractee," The implication caused Contractee to turn his head, driving safety be damned. "Every time you flash your money around, you're a bitch in heat, and everyone in that club is now looking to fuck you." Contractee nearly opened his mouth to say something, but ultimately decided against it as Consigliere spoke up again, shaking his head. "And once you get fucked... you're no good to us."
"Do you understand?" Consigliere fully turned his head now. It was not a question, nor a request, but a command. Contractee hardly realized he'd been holding his breath until he had to let out out before he spoke. "...You made your point."
Consigliere switched topics rather smoothly, easing some of the tension between them. "Good, because you need to think about your career here. Look, Soldier's hit his ceiling. He's the guy we want in a tussle, but he's not smart enough to run anything. Caporegime is loyal, but, he has no vision."
"But you, Contractee," Consigliere nodded, his expression softening. "you could run this town someday."
Contractee tried to ignore how awkward he was still feeling, not even stealing glances at Consigliere anymore as he nodded in acknowledgment. "I appreciate that, Consigliere."
"So... what happened to the dog?" Contractee tilted his head. Consigliere closed his eyes, doing his best to remain composed. "The Don tried to drown her. I broke his nose."
Consigliere gestured up with his head. "You can let me off here," Contractee slowed the car to a stop, taking his hands off of the wheel and instead resting them in his lap.
"Give Elliot my best, Contractee." Consigliere reached for the handle of the door as Contractee furrowed his brow and looked over, trying to figure out the meaning behind those words.
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