THE NEXT DAY, the sky was cloudy and the weather was cold, but with a simple sunrise between the clouds and the caress of a cozy breeze. They are not as beautiful as sunny mornings, but much better than expected, and their beauty ends up being unexpected.
The breakfast at that diner was ordinary, but old Carl Benedetti had already made a daily habit of enjoying it like a religious believer. It was certainly better than the one he made at home when Alissa had to give class early, Gregory would say, to annoy his mentor:
— The only thing worse than that is the coffee you make... — Greg commented, without seeing the waitress next to him, looking at him disapprovingly.
— You only say that because your wife makes yours! — Benedetti replied, grumpily. — By the way, aren't you going to order anything? — he asked, pointing to the waitress, who was standing there listening to the conversation.
Gregory turned around and only then noticed the girl's presence, deducing that she had heard his infamous comment. Embarrassed, he placed his order:
— Good morning... Bacon and eggs, please. Coca-Cola too.
— Is that all? — the woman asked, indifferently.
— Yes, thank you.
— The waitress went to take the order.
— Don't worry, they don't spoil the food. At least, not in a way that you notice. — said the old man, laughing at him, while eating his plate.
— I'm taking that risk...
Tony stopped eating and looked at him seriously, while he finished chewing his morning bacon and wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin. Then he said to him:
— Son, life has many unwritten rules. Do you want some advice? Start with this one.
— Tell me — answered Gregory, deciphering if there was any seriousness in what the old man was saying.
— Always keep this in mind: never upset the person who is going to serve your plate. It's a lesson for life!
— It makes sense... But I've never had a problem with that.
— But if you keep talking faster than your brilliant mind can think, you certainly will.
— Because, even after so many years, you're the person I respect the most?
Resuming his eating, Benedetti answered him between bites:
— That's the big question, kid. Most of the time you don't even realize it. For them, it's a kind of silent revenge, which they savor without having to reveal it. All they have to do is see you eat the dish they've named with some kind of disgusting thing and they'll be satisfied.
— A kind of revenge as mediocre as the person who commits it. — Greg observed, speaking softly.
— It's certainly not something you should worry about, I'm sure you've eaten worse things in Vietnam.
— Don't doubt it.
The old man smiled:
— You're absolutely right, but tell me one thing, isn't it a fatal weapon? When you realize this possibility, the mere suspicion that it could happen to you becomes a burden you'll always carry! And I'll tell you, remaining in doubt is worse than knowing the sad truth...
Greg frowned, bothered by the situation he found himself in:
— You're trying to make me feel bad!
— I'm just telling the truth, kid! — the old man was amused, as he was already finishing his morning meal.
— Okay, you turned the tables... I won't criticize your coffee again.
Washing his lips again with his napkin, in an attempt to show some class, Carl Benedetti took the floor:
— Let's talk about something more important. There's an opportunity coming up, a vacancy available, I want you to take over the case.
— What's it about?
— I spoke to an informant of Anthony Capretti and he decided to get revenge on you. He needs someone to take the place of one of his lieutenants.
— It was taking a while for them to act, I was never able to prove anything against Anthony.
— Those were different times. Anthony Capretti is a shrewd man, a quality that quickly led him to lead an empire submerged in crime. He raised the robust organization he inherited from his father, Francesco Capretti, to the top of the pyramid just a few years after taking his place.
— He was one of the ones I arrested.
Benedetti nodded and continued:
— Of all the principles his father taught him, the only one he maintained was the maxim: Drugs are useless, whether for use or for sale. All the other principles, habits and methods were changed over time, an attitude that gave him greater success in business than his predecessors in the family. The reality was that dealing with drugs meant being at the top of the list of all enemies, who were divided into criminal rivals, honest rulers and rulers interested in getting their hands on the gravy train. The latter, in fact, were the most dangerous, because as Anthony himself said:
— His weapon was the State and his bullets were the laws.
— Yes... In the end, crime was a game he knows how to play, and he makes his moves at the right time, always ahead of his adversaries.
— Who does he have in mind? — A man you know well, Tommy Fontane.
— And what happened to Dylan? — Gregory asked. — He was Capretti's right-hand man. What happened?
— He is no longer with us. — the old man replied, with a somber air.
Gregory Evans leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. He wondered if Tommy would take over from someone who had died or someone who had been killed. He didn't know much about the new Capretti Family yet; he viewed everything from afar and with great curiosity. At the end of the chain of command, doing small jobs for Anthony and receiving his teachings, which were more practical than theoretical, Tommy didn't even exist for Capretti. He was a nobody. And as the nobody that he was, he hadn't yet gained any experience that would give him the authority to say whether the Mafia was really as romantic as he saw in Hollywood movies.