“Zu, listen—” Lorenzo started.
“I don’t wanna hear it! Put a fucking suit on! You’re coming to the commission meeting! You created this shit storm! You put us in bed with the fucking Brambinos! Now you’re gonna sit there next to those sick fucks and deal with it!”
The suit turned around and walked back up the stairs like suits did.
Brianna moved out of the way again, like any good mafia girl would when dealing with an opposing Borgata. Disgusted and annoyed, she silently watched the suit stop at the top stairs and call down, “Someone give this motherfucker an aspirin! And put some goddamn clothes on him before Moretti’s freak bastardo grandson shows up losing his shit and crashes the fucking stock market!”
“I’m going in.”
“Fine.” The don nodded as he sat across from Nova in the limo. “You can come in. He’s your brother. Let those fuckers sit there and look you in the eye.”
“No.” Nova shook his head. Going on nearly three days with no sleep, he was beyond exhausted. Whoever Tino had been with was off his schedule. They’d been raiding houses in four families and still hadn’t found a lead until this meeting was called. “I need to go in with power. I need a voice they can listen to.”
“You’re a Moretti. You have power,” Aldo assured him.
“Give me the consigliere spot,” Nova said, because at this point he felt like he had nothing to lose. “Let me go in with a recognized voice on the commission.”
The limo was silent afterward.
All they could hear was the hum of tires against asphalt as they headed toward the commission meeting.
Monte Breda, the don’s nephew, sputtered indignantly. “You’re not actually considering that.”
Aldo didn’t say anything. He just stared at Nova critically.
“Temporarily,” Nova added as he glanced to Monte. “You’re not an official consigliere. I can step in for this.”
“But I’ve been acting consigliere for ten fucking years!” Monte shot back.
“We haven’t been in a war, though. We need an official consigliere now, and you can’t do it because of the blood ties,” Nova argued. “Our Borgata needs that voice on the commission, and they won’t let you serve. Our don is not supposed to be dragging his ass to a commission meeting when we’re at war. That makes him vulnerable, and you may not give a shit, but I do, Monte.”
“Call me Zu, you little shit!” Monte growled at him. “And who the fuck do you think you are? You’re his goddamn grandson! You don’t qualify either.”
“But I do.” Nova shrugged. “The church doesn’t recognize me. I am technically outside the family. I can be an official consigliere.”
“That’s a bullshit loophole! First Carlo, now this!” Monte turned on Aldo like a bear. “You are not giving Doogie Howser your commission spot! I’d rather see Frankie take it if we’ve got to put you in hiding. Most of the families have their capo bastone on the commission. Bring Frankie in.”
“Love you too, Zu.” Carlo quirked an annoyed eyebrow at Monte from his seat next to the don. “I earned my spot as the commission enforcer. I didn’t get it by default.”
“And Frankie’s wife caused this shit,” Nova reminded them. “I wouldn’t consider him the best guy to negotiate this issue. I’m the only one who can do this. If we let the don go in when every other family has theirs in hiding, it’ll make our administration look weak.”
The don looked around the back of limo, from Carlo to Monte, before his gaze rested back on Nova.
Nova resisted the urge to shift nervously, because so much was riding on going into this meeting.
“If you send an eighteen-year-old into the commission meeting as consigliere, you’ll make the entire Borgata a joke,” Monte growled. “We’ll never live it down.”
“I am eighteen,” Nova said without hesitating, because there was no sense in denying the obvious. “But I am smarter than anyone in this car. I’m smarter than everyone on the commission too…and they know it.”
“Smart is not life experience. You’re not old enough to do this job.” Monte said it like he believed it. “You haven’t bled enough. You haven’t made enough mistakes, and we’re not letting you break your teeth in with our commission spot.”
“I’ve lived, and I’ve made a fuckload of mistakes while I did it,” Nova assured them, unable to hide the crack of pain in his voice when he considered just how many. “I work eighty hours a week. I quadrupled this Borgata’s income. You didn’t do that. I did!” Nova leaned in, getting in Monte’s face. “And do not ever question how much I’ve bled!” He poked Monte’s chest, making him scoot back on instinct. “My brother is out there somewhere, and you’re saying I haven’t fucking bled! I’ve bled rivers! I’m still bleeding!” Nova turned on the don. “I want the consigliere spot.”
Aldo tilted his head, looking from where Monte had scooted back next to the window, to Nova, who folded his arms over his chest to hide the shake in them.