Downstairs the kitchen had been turned into Paul's own micro-kingdom, pots and pans lay dirty in heaping piles all around and the general atmosphere was one of crazed single-mindedness. Why did he get such overpowering urges to cook when the weekends rolled around? Rose didn't even care to find out, she'd poured herself a massive cup of coffee before her brother had even noticed she'd awoken and now stood watching from her post at the press.
"Well, well, well," He tisked, gloved hands holding a pan of quick croissants which he placed next to a huge plate of home-made pancakes, his 'speciality'. His sister watched with a total lack of amusement, brain addled by the whiskey of the night before and battered by a migraine she was suffering through now. "Didn't think you'd be up anytime this weekend," A shadow of a grin played across his features and he made busy work of preparing the meal to eat at the nearby kitchen table.
"Oh yeah?" The blonde taunted, pushing for more to allow her a reason to explode and vent out the pressure building in her cranium. However, her brother knew this tactic, and thus refrained from further comment, merely laying out the table and then joining his sister at the French press for his own cup of steaming Joe.
"Collections were supposed to be this morning," Her eyebrows lifted ever so slightly, almost unnoticed to the man who stood before her, but her face remained neutral.
"George is a big boy, he can handle it,"
"He handled it," Paul corrected, and Rose simply nodded her unwarranted approval. "He was expecting your help though," For a moment Rose felt disappointed in herself, collections had become a time for her and her number two to spend quality time together, but the moment was fleeting and once the thought had entered her mind, it was gone once more.
"I'll make sure he knows he's appreciated," She said cryptically, but Paul only nodded, assured from the things he knew of his sister that she meant it, at least in some form or another. Connections were important to her, not to mention the work they were both involved in.
"Can we sit down and eat now? I invited Georgina, but I think she assumed she'd have to clean everything up," His sister made a look of mild amusement.
"And she wouldn't?" Paul shrugged carefully and made to shake his head, stopped, reconsidered and the two dove straight into the meal that he'd prepared, Rose felt it wanting for flavour but appreciated the work regardless.
When she left the house, clean and with her stomach filled, she beelined in her Audi for the Billiards club to meet with George and Luis and discuss the collections for the previous weeks. No collections had been made the week before, so the haul today was to be quite large, Paul wanted her to make sure Luis was on the ball. For starters, the cash was to go directly into the family's funds - laundered essentially - for use down the line for the famiglia's operations. Most of the collections were reserved for legal costs, but lately, things were looking on the up-and-up, Rose was just thankful her traitorous godfather hadn't turned snitch to the cops instead of the Russians.
By the time she arrived it was a quarter past noon and she felt the need for another drink, unsatisfied with the coffee she'd picked up on her way over. Her spot near the back entrance was empty, as usual, and though the lot seemed fuller than usual she barely registered it as notable, preferring instead to focus on the next foot in front of her last. For now, the door.
The buzz of the security entrance made a sharp pang in the centre of her skull, eliciting a wince and a prod at her temple, to try and ease the pressure. Thankfully the hall was dark and quiet, a hallmark of the mob hangout that she was eternally grateful for. George was sitting in the employee's lounge, surrounded on three sides by massive black duffel bags she inherently knew were stuffed with cash. He didn't even notice her enter.
"Looks like a hell of a haul," She whistled, and her turned slowly from the phone he'd been buried in and smiled a greeting at his matriarch, along with a smile and nod as he once more assessed the bags around his stool.
"Yup, that's what two weeks looks like," With a long pull of her coffee and a hand on her hip, Rose truly felt like a boss at that very moment. Not necessarily the machismo 'you the boss' schtick, she could feel that around anyone connected, but the way that real power surges through you and makes you giddy when you notice that it's there. If she'd had balls they'd have shrivelled in delight.
"Paul's very specific about what he wants to be done with the money, is Luis around?" George shrugged and made a half-hearted look around. The blonde couldn't help but mimic him, and noticed one of the nearby booths filled with four huge looking men, with another two sitting in the booth next to that. She closed the distance to George, eyes never leaving the men who were silent and sombre looking, their wide thick shoulders hunched over glasses of water which they gazed into like fortune telling orbs. "Who the fuck are they?"
"Your new security detail," George hadn't even looked, he knew exactly who they were. They'd just gone with him for the collections, they were men recommended by Matteo for their size and skill, neither of which George had any doubt. Spend a lifetime around killers and you get to know them by their auras.
Meanwhile Rose was assessing them herself, observing the very same aura that George had thought just a moment before, and grinned inwardly at the thoughts of what she could accomplish with six deadly shooters. "Is this an early Christmas gift?" Her second hadn't anticipated such a reaction and watched her carefully to note any sarcasm at all, though there was none to be found.
"Uh, nope. Not that I know of Rosie," She nodded, only half listening to him, and then took off to the tables, taking all six men by surprise as she seemed to appear right there next to them. It was here at this table of misfit ogres, with the men who killed for a living - and made damn fine work of it all - that Rose spent the rest of her afternoon. While George and Luis took care of Paul's instructions, Rose made friends with the goon squad.
It was a week later that the eight Cinqemani's met again, the one-point-six-mil gone into the impressive system of family businesses and washed through until it was clean and accountable. They chose to meet at the gun range, some of the goons set tables and chairs, and all brought their bulging bags of equipment. Molle covered backpacks and plate-carrying vests, long plastic rifle cases and ammo cans of munitions, all brought down the back loading dock, lifted from the covered back bed of two brand-new Toyota Tacoma trucks, bought specially for the goon squad by Rose herself, away from prying eyes and into the sanctuary of the gun range in Bensonhurst. Rose had arrived first, her own bags set against the back wall near the front stairs, while the rest of the group simply set theirs in neat rows a few feet away.
George was the odd-man out. Half-in and half-out when it came to tactical understandings - George was professional muscle but knew little of the intricacies of the art of warfare - he brought only his guns and a couple pouches he sometimes wore on his belt. It made him feel a little insecure when he saw the other giants with their bags and bags of goodies. Lucky for him, Rose was a generous leader.
"I ordered some things for you," She said in a half-whisper, not too quiet to seem like she cared if others heard, but careful enough to show George that she didn't want to make him feel worse. "Go try em on, I've got everything set-up for the most part, all you need to do is size the vest properly," With a well-manicured finger she pointed to the pile of gear she'd brought in next to her own, and he nodded and headed for it, taking his time to look at each piece as he sorted through the mess and tried to make heads or tails of it.
With a few simple instructions and a couple minutes to get ready, the men - and woman - stood shortly afterwards on the firing line of the gun range. Papers targets had been set down at the far end of the range, and they all wore the gear they'd brought inside. Some wore leg holsters, others hip holsters, all carrying the same pistol with the same ammunition, for cross-compatibility: Glock 22s. Meanwhile, all eight of them wore some sort of low profile plate carrier and a wide variety of pouches encircling their waists.
Again each carried the same make of weapon, though some wore various attachments, scopes and red-dots, and all came fitted with a can. A suppressor. Even the way they were slung - held tight up against their armpits by looped bungee-cords - would have been identical to the discerning observer. Rose shifted the M4 in her hands carefully, relishing the weight of the fully loaded weapon and appreciating the work it had taken to get everyone suited up. Not only had she ordered George gear online, she'd set-up a buy with her good friend Lucine and purchased enough weapons for each of her new friends. Not cheap - especially with the suppressors - and not easy either - for the same reason - so she'd paid a large premium, deducted from the weeks collections, and deemed it was worth the cost.
Nearby on a white plastic fold-open table lay eight identical MP7s, all bought from various gun shows across the Midwest and now handed down to killers who knew how to use them. Magazines were loaded and held in every pouch the shooters carried, even their pockets were stuffed with magazines, and when the shooting started it last from mid-afternoon until dusk that evening, ending only when Rose was satisfied that every shooter was proficient in all three of their weapons.
She left it up to Matteo's crew for clean-up, opting just to lock the M4s in the vault and let the men all leave with their gear and weapons the same way that they'd come in. Concealed now even more by the moonless night sky, Rose stood in the dock as the last goon left, with George at her side and listened to the bustle of the city around them.
"We could storm the gates of hell with this crew,"
Collection for two weeks from the three businesses here, also the updated profit for the Billiards hall here. Should be around $1 604 000?
The six new professional muscle purchased here, as well as my NPC George Macavoy to be armed and outfitted at cost to Rose and the family. Please deduct from the collections for the weeks.
Two 2018 Toyota Tacoma TRD Off-Roads (Black, though it wasn't mentioned)
The collected funds to be now clean and held safely in the bank.