I just got back from L.A. with my father, visiting the Gattis, my father's good friend and the Italians who rule over California. Don Severino always visits his friends. And if my brother can't accompany him, I have to be there, naturally.
We boarded my father's private jet in LAX at eleven last night and I knocked out as soon as I got settled in my seat. I only had four hours of sleep, which I had the whole flight over, waking up just as we landed ten minutes ago. It's only 6:40 in the morning, I have a fucking headache, and I need to be in the office in a couple of hours. The things I do for my old man.
I'm driving to my place in Manhattan when my phone beeps with a text message. It's from my security at The Manor, Benny, who stays in-house. It's a Monday morning, the club closed a few hours ago, and we're closed tonight, so I wonder what's up.
I whip out my phone at a red light and quickly read his text.
