“We got to tell him,” Carlo pressed. “You can’t send two enforcers to deal with school officials. We can’t just beat them up. These are, like, real guys, Tino. If they’re saying the old man’s name with disrespect, then they’re just fucking clueless about how things work. You gotta send Nova in for something like that. He’ll show up in his suit and explain things. He’ll just iron it out like he always does. You send us in, and there will be blood and cops, and the old man will freak, and Nova will need quaaludes. There’s levels.”
Carlo took one hand off the steering wheel and held it up. “Like, here’s the real world and the school officials who’d call the heat in a fucking heartbeat if we showed up.” He lowered his hand a little. “Here’s associates and all those motherfuckers who benefit off Cosa Nostra. The cops on the pad. The dirty government. The other half of New York who’s not clueless.” He lowered it a little more. “Here’s Nova. He can still speak their language. He’s like a Cosa Nostra translator. Then here’s us.” He dropped his hand way down near his thigh. “In the lowest dredges of the underworld. You can’t just throw us at officials. They keep us separate for a reason. It’ll mess up the entire symbiotic ecosystem of society.” He looked back to Tino. “You could single-handedly destroy civilization, or at least a small section of Midtown.”
Tino stared back at him and did a very good job of not cracking up. “That was deep, Zio.”
Carlo shrugged. “I’m a deep guy.”
“I could be Nova,” Tino assured him. “I could be an awesome Nova.”
Carlo was quiet again, before he turned back to Tino. “I believe you could.”
“Let’s go back to Harlem,” Tino said with a wide smile. “Romeo’s training. It’ll give me time to grab one of my suits. You could borrow one of Nova’s.”
“Hell, no, I’m gonna be your muscle.” Carlo pointed to Tino’s pocket, because Carlo didn’t carry a cell phone. “Call Rocco and tell him to bring the limo.”
“What if the don needs it?”
“The old man’s in the Hamptons. Frankie never does anything important enough to require the limo, and Nova always drives himself,” Carlo said as he turned around. “Let Rocco earn his keep.”
Tino needed one of his own suits, because he was taller than Nova. He also wasn’t quite as broad. He didn’t have that thick, pit-bull build like the Morettis. Not that Tino was super thrilled he took after his mother’s side, but he was sorta glad he didn’t have an eighteen-inch neck.
Nova had to have all his suits tailored like Romeo did. Tino was an off-the-rack guy. Clothing salesmen loved him. They told him he was built for suits, and since they said it, Tino usually made their day a little brighter and bought two or three.
“Why do you have so many?” Carlo mumbled as he stood in Tino’s closet. “I mean, really, Tino, this is a disorder. You don’t even wear them.”
“I go to Mass with Nova sometimes. Besides, I worked hard for the money in my bank account. I feel like it’s my obligation to spend it,” Tino said simply. “And I don’t think a guy who has over a hundred classic cars ditched all over the city can criticize my closet.”
“It’s not a hundred,” Carlo mumbled.
Tino turned to give him an unamused look as he threaded his tie through the collar of his shirt.
“Okay.” Carlo held up his hands in defeat and then eyed Tino’s tie. “You should wear a gold one.”
Tino arched an eyebrow at him. “I don’t own a gold tie.”
“Nova does.”
“No.” Tino started tying the purple one he had on. “There’s a reason I don’t own a gold tie.”
“But you’re being Nova,” Carlo reminded him. “Nova wears gold ties.”
“Nova shouldn’t wear gold ties.”
“You think Nova doesn’t know that? He knows it, but it’s an image. It’s Siciliano. You gotta wear the gold tie.”
“It’s Siciliano, all right,” Tino agreed with him. “And one of the main reasons those northern motherfuckers have so much material.”
“Wear it!”
“No!”
Carlo jumped at him and physically jerked the purple tie out of Tino’s collar. Tino threw his elbow back into Carlo’s chest and kicked him for good measure, but then he stepped back and smoothed his hand down his chest. “Do you attack your zu? Check yourself, motherfucker.”
“Yeah, I got no respect. I’m just not inspired,” Carlo agreed. “Now if you were wearing a gold tie…”
Tino looked down at himself and studied his suit before he whispered, “Merda.”
He was forced to shrug out of his gray jacket and put it back on the hanger. He hung it up and reached for a black, pinstriped suit.
“Yes!” Carlo pointed at it. “That’s a Nova suit. It’s gotta have the vest, though. Does it have the vest?”
Tino pulled the jacket back, showing off the vest, even though Tino never wore a three-piece suit. He wasn’t even sure how he got this one. It must’ve been one of those moments when he was just buying to boost the salesperson’s commission.
“That’s the suit. Put it on, and then we’ll raid Nova’s closet downstairs for the tie.”
Once they got to Nova’s closet, it was over.
Carlo decided he was going as high-class muscle like he did for the don. He stole one of Nova’s suits, because Carlo did have an eighteen-inch neck.