an office.
“So, where's your boy at?” Vito asked. “It's fuckin' 3:30 and he still ain't here.”
Cleo ignored Vito's question for the moment. He summoned the waiter and ordered a double shot of Remy Martin.
“Be easy, he's on his way.”
Vito mumbled something under his breath, but Cleo didn't catch it.
“You said something, Vito??” He questioned.
As soon as Vito went to speak, Mikey T walked through the door.
“My colored brother, Cleo! What the fuck is goin' on guy?” He yelled.
Unlike Vito, Mikey T and Cleo were the best of friends. They attended high school together and both were starting defensive linemen on the varsity football team.
Mikey T knew his position in the family; he just didn't have the same views as they did regarding blacks. He possessed a genuine love for Cleo, but he would never go against his blood.
Cleo pushed his seat back and stood to greet Mikey. “My Caucasian twin, Mikey mutha-fuckin T!” he embraced him.
“It's been a minute, eh, Cleo. Good to see you, bro. You still big as a house, I see.”
They laughed together.
“That's good eatin’ Mikey. How's The Old Man?”
“Hangin' in there. You know how it is. Lately he's back n forth to the doc. This freakin' diabetes is killin' him, and you know how The Old Man is... he don't listen to nobody.”
While Mikey and Cleo got reacquainted, Vito boiled. Mikey hadn't even acknowledged his own brother and here he was laughing and joking.
“How's my little bro doin’?” He finally asked, tapping Vito's chest.
Vito got up from his chair to hug his older brother. He wanted to tell him how he really felt, but circumstances of that nature could never be discussed in public. Besides, Mikey knew Vito disliked that he showed Cleo so much respect, but there was little he could do about it.
“Could be better, could be worse.” Vito answered.
Mikey took a seat at the table. “Who ya tellin'. So, Cleo...eh, where's Mox?”
On cue, Mox appeared at the front door, black as night sporting a pearl white, fox bomber with the hat to match. The five inch, Cuban cigar he puffed produced a thick, white cloud of smoke.
“Speak of the devil and in he walks,” Cleo laughed.
“Look at this fuckin' clown!” Vito barked.
Mikey jumped up. “Hey, cool it Vito.” He approached Mox. “No smokin' in here, bro.”
Mox stopped at the table, took another puff of his cigar and blew the smoke into the air.
“Fuck you, Mikey. Tell them white guys over there to stop smokin'. We came to talk business, correct?”
“Correct.”
“So, this is my proposal and rest assured my partner feels the same way. Right, Cleo?”
Cleo didn't speak; he just nodded his head. Truth was, he didn't know what the fuck Mox was about to say. They spoke on a few percentages, but Cleo told him it was too early to get those types of numbers. They were just getting in good with the Italians and to demand a higher percentage on all endeavors was something Cleo knew they wouldn't go for.
Mox continued. “We want a piece of Queens.”
Vito cut his eyes over to Mikey. They both held a look of surprise. “Queens??” they said, in unison.
“Yeah, Queens.” Mox repeated.
“I don't know what you talking about, Mox.” Mikey lied.
“You know what I'm talkin' about Mikey… Astoria. That warehouse, seven hundred thousand a month. Any of this ring a bell?”
“You're a funny fuckin' guy, you know that, Mox?” Mikey snarled. “You should be here discussing how much compensation you gonna give The Old Man for knocking off one of his major dealers.”
“Fuck, Supreme! That nigga was a snitch! Cleo, what's thirty-five percent of seven hundred thousand? Quick.”
“Is this true, Cleo?” Mikey asked.
Cleo rubbed his fingers together. “Yeah, it’s true.” he paused and looked at Mox. “Two hundred and
“So, where's your boy at?” Vito asked. “It's fuckin' 3:30 and he still ain't here.”
Cleo ignored Vito's question for the moment. He summoned the waiter and ordered a double shot of Remy Martin.
“Be easy, he's on his way.”
Vito mumbled something under his breath, but Cleo didn't catch it.
“You said something, Vito??” He questioned.
As soon as Vito went to speak, Mikey T walked through the door.
“My colored brother, Cleo! What the fuck is goin' on guy?” He yelled.
Unlike Vito, Mikey T and Cleo were the best of friends. They attended high school together and both were starting defensive linemen on the varsity football team.
Mikey T knew his position in the family; he just didn't have the same views as they did regarding blacks. He possessed a genuine love for Cleo, but he would never go against his blood.
Cleo pushed his seat back and stood to greet Mikey. “My Caucasian twin, Mikey mutha-fuckin T!” he embraced him.
“It's been a minute, eh, Cleo. Good to see you, bro. You still big as a house, I see.”
They laughed together.
“That's good eatin’ Mikey. How's The Old Man?”
“Hangin' in there. You know how it is. Lately he's back n forth to the doc. This freakin' diabetes is killin' him, and you know how The Old Man is... he don't listen to nobody.”
While Mikey and Cleo got reacquainted, Vito boiled. Mikey hadn't even acknowledged his own brother and here he was laughing and joking.
“How's my little bro doin’?” He finally asked, tapping Vito's chest.
Vito got up from his chair to hug his older brother. He wanted to tell him how he really felt, but circumstances of that nature could never be discussed in public. Besides, Mikey knew Vito disliked that he showed Cleo so much respect, but there was little he could do about it.
“Could be better, could be worse.” Vito answered.
Mikey took a seat at the table. “Who ya tellin'. So, Cleo...eh, where's Mox?”
On cue, Mox appeared at the front door, black as night sporting a pearl white, fox bomber with the hat to match. The five inch, Cuban cigar he puffed produced a thick, white cloud of smoke.
“Speak of the devil and in he walks,” Cleo laughed.
“Look at this fuckin' clown!” Vito barked.
Mikey jumped up. “Hey, cool it Vito.” He approached Mox. “No smokin' in here, bro.”
Mox stopped at the table, took another puff of his cigar and blew the smoke into the air.
“Fuck you, Mikey. Tell them white guys over there to stop smokin'. We came to talk business, correct?”
“Correct.”
“So, this is my proposal and rest assured my partner feels the same way. Right, Cleo?”
Cleo didn't speak; he just nodded his head. Truth was, he didn't know what the fuck Mox was about to say. They spoke on a few percentages, but Cleo told him it was too early to get those types of numbers. They were just getting in good with the Italians and to demand a higher percentage on all endeavors was something Cleo knew they wouldn't go for.
Mox continued. “We want a piece of Queens.”
Vito cut his eyes over to Mikey. They both held a look of surprise. “Queens??” they said, in unison.
“Yeah, Queens.” Mox repeated.
“I don't know what you talking about, Mox.” Mikey lied.
“You know what I'm talkin' about Mikey… Astoria. That warehouse, seven hundred thousand a month. Any of this ring a bell?”
“You're a funny fuckin' guy, you know that, Mox?” Mikey snarled. “You should be here discussing how much compensation you gonna give The Old Man for knocking off one of his major dealers.”
“Fuck, Supreme! That nigga was a snitch! Cleo, what's thirty-five percent of seven hundred thousand? Quick.”
“Is this true, Cleo?” Mikey asked.
Cleo rubbed his fingers together. “Yeah, it’s true.” he paused and looked at Mox. “Two hundred and
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