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September 4, 2007

The joint was empty. The Boss was sitting at his regular table, had his back to me, his back to the door. Asking for it I thought, or just cocky enough to believe he was safe. A guy like him with as much out there as he did was never safe. I started wondering if he wasn’t ready to go and wanted me to do the job. But my old pal Rudy wouid love that as an opportune event, so as to trigger his taking over the business. All he would need to do was move me over, and He would not hesitate. I was not giving anybody satisfaction that day but myself, so fuck rubbin’ the Boss.
” That you Paulie”?
” It is, Boss, it is.”?
” Sit, I got something for you”.
So around I go to face the big man. He reaches out to shake and of course I comply. Big meaty claws he has with fat fingers, but strong and hard, and they feel like they could do damage.
In front of him on the table is a pistol. It looks new, probably a .380, and has a molded plastic grip. By now I’v already glommed it and am looking square at the Boss, right in his muddy eyes.
” This is for you, Paul, as a gift for all the outstanding service you have delivered for all this long, long time. And without complaint, I would like to add”.
“Hmmm…”. Sez I.
Better it should have been a knife, because that was what would have been needed to slice the mood in the joint right then. A little while went by. Finally the Boss pipes up.
” Would you like to take my gift, Paul. I’m sure you don’t want to be offensive”.
” Boss, no offense intended, but, it is common knowledge that you and yours have been more than overly genrous to me and mine for many years now. Our families have been involved business wise for at least thirty years…that is, if my Pops’ calculations are right. How could I accept any more of your generosity and still keep my dignity”?
My delivery of this is pointed and I know he gets it. You ain’t turning me into your gunsel. And my family is done with you. And me, too.
Boss looks down now and I see the brow-lines start to gather. I’m thinkin I may have to kill this fucker after all. And I will, if he doesn’t mind his manners. The pooch is pissed and its’ Katy-bar-the-door. I am recalling that Pop said to take no gifts from this guy……my heart is doing its job now, and it is not sparing the horses, if you know what I mean.

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