Leo slammed the den door behind him when they returned. He took a deep breath. He had to put this fire out before it got out of control.

“My brother thinks he’s too good for us. He’s always thought so,” Angelo said. “May as well rub our noses in it with this fine house, better than anything any of us have, because he can justify it with the IRS. All bought with his honest money that he flaunts at us every Christmas.”

On top of everything, Angelo had to bring the money up again. Well, why not? It was overdue. “I don’t think that. All I’ve said is that there are alternatives. Either own what you do, or don’t do it, but stop fucking whining about it and making excuses. But that’s not the point of this meeting, and you know it. Faith is not a threat. She doesn’t know anything more than what anybody can find with an Internet search.”

“And we know that how?” Leo’s Uncle Bernie asked. Uncle Sal had already voiced his issues.

“I’m too old for this shit,” Carmine interjected.

“Papi…” Leo said.

“What? It’s the truth. We need to move to the front business and forget the back business. It’s not like it used to be.”

“Right. Because there’s a ton of dough in carpet installation,” Vinny said. “How would we feed our families?” It was one of many businesses, and at least on paper, it was successful. The Raspallo front businesses ran more to casinos in Vegas and construction work in New York. It was hard to prove bids were rigged. And a little illegal gambling alongside the legal stuff was easier to paper over, especially given that most mob families had largely abandoned Vegas, so the heat was elsewhere.

“You work in Vegas at the casino now. You wouldn’t be doing installation,” Leo’s grandfather retorted, still remarkably sharp for nearing ninety.

“I just want to do the sandwich shop,” Fabrizio said.

“Oh, so you’re out of the business, now,” Angelo said. “Maybe you’re the liability.”

“Hey!” Leo said. “Leave him alone. Even if he ran a sandwich shop, you know he’s not going to sing. No more than I would. Aren’t we all self-employed in our own ways? Can’t we respect each other’s choices without acting like everybody who does something different has gone Judas?”

“I didn’t say I was out of the business,” Fabrizio said. “I’m saying if we all went straight…” Fabrizio must have rethought the extra connotation of that word and changed midstream. “…Honest… if we all went honest, I’d do the sandwich business. I’m just saying I’m not into carpet installation, all right?”

“Nobody is seriously considering doing carpet installation,” Angelo said, as if the idea turned his stomach.

“Papi is.”

Carmine cleared his throat from across the room. “When I formed this family, I mirrored what the Ndrangheta in Calabria does… keeping it all in the family or married in. It’s easier to keep the omerta and harder for the feds to work their way in.”