J
acopo Saltinotti was sitting in the back of the “Palermo” restaurant, enjoying a glass of Franciacorta. The restaurant was empty, with only the owner and a waiter standing near the door, with the ‘Closed’ sign hanging in its front.
The tables were covered with argyle tablecloths, just like most Italian restaurants. Candles were placed in the middle of each table, next to small flowerpots, which made the place look expensive and hospitable. Only the candle on Jacopo’s
table was shedding its flickering light in the store, lighting up the dark corner of the restaurant. The blurred light entering the windows was not enough to brighten the whole place.
Jacopo grabbed a piece of Acceglio from the plate in front of him and finished his wine. He raised his arm, revealing his expensive golden watch, hiding under his expensive tailor-made Italian suit. He lifted his glass to the waiter to pour another glass of Franciacorta.
The waiter rushed to Jacopo’s side, holding with respect an old dusty bottle. “Here you go, Don.” The waiter then returned to his post as Jacopo nodded. He took another sip and gargled it as if he was a professional sommelier. He closed his eyes with joy as the exquisite taste trickled down his throat.
The sound of the bell rang as the door opened. A man dressed in a large black trench coat entered and hurried towards Jacopo’s table. His curly black
hair was messy and his receding hairline stood out. He was three times bigger than Jacopo. His fingers each had gold rings.
Despite his size, he was afraid of Jacopo. He reached the table and bowed, taking Jacopo’s hand into his own and kissed it with respect. “Don Jacopo…” he said breathing heavily, taking a seat on the other side of the table.
Without saying a word, Jacopo took out a small wooden comb out of his pocket and combed his black hair to the side. “When did I give you permission to sit?” Jacopo found the fat man’s conduct hilarious. The man’s face was painted with panic as he struggled to stand up. “You are interrupting my wine hour”
“I- I know.” the fat man stuttered taking a step away from the table.
“What’s so important to disturb my tea time?”
“Don Jacopo.” the man’s voice trembled as Jacopo lifted his glass and took
another sip. His dark blue eyes staring deep inside the fat man’s.
“I’m listening.” Jacopo signaled the man to continue.
“There are some rumors in the street, Don. It is said that Jessica Lombardi’s back in town.” the fat man said avoiding Jacopo’s sight.
Before Jacopo took another sip, he froze. Then he put the glass on the table slowly as if time was in slow motion. “What the fuck?”
“Jessica Lom-“
“I heard you the first time. When did you hear this?”
“Yesterday afternoon, Boss. One of my men said he saw her and her family at the port.” the fat man started taking a step back from the table. Jacopo smiled but his face revealed something bad was about to happen. It was a smile that made the waiter take a few steps closer to the back of the restaurant.
“So, I presume that your men didn’t
see her today, right?” Jacopo hobbled like a man who had trouble standing up.
“N-no, Boss. It was only yesterday.” the fat man took another step backward, plunging into a stool, making it fall to the ground.
“And did we follow her?” Jacopo started walking towards the man.
“I was only informed by my men yesterday. Please, I can ex-“ the fat man’s sentence was interrupted by Jacopo’s fist landing on his face. Then landing on his ear, making him lose his balance.
The man’s head was ringing as if a grenade exploded inside the restaurant. He raised his arms, almost as if he was pleading for his life. Another fist landed on his nose. The fat man felt his nose crack. His eyes were filled with tears. He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t in front of the Don.
Jacopo cracked his knuckles as the fat man was moving further backwards in a state of drunkenness and desperation. “
You didn’t think to tell me yesterday afternoon?” Jacopo punched the man again in the face and then on his right temple, sending the man down on the floor. The man raised his arms to cover his face but Jacopo was landing punch after punch.
“I came here as soon…” the man tried to say but another punch interrupted him. Blood sprayed out of his mouth and his lips and face were swollen.
Jacopo sat on the man’s big belly and kept punching him in the face. The man tried defending himself but Jacopo had struck him too many times. His reflexes weren’t quick enough and Jacopo had him pinned down on the ground. Jacopo kept punching until the man stopped moving completely.
The waiter and the owner of the restaurant were hiding speechless. The waiter was almost near the exit while the owner was peeking from behind the counter. Jacopo got up taking off his white suit, covered in blood, like an artist
who created a modern piece of art. His suit fall off his shoulders, revealing his black vest and silver Smith and Wesson dangling on his waist. He went back to his seat and took another of the Franciacorta while cleaning the blood from his hands with a velvet towel.
“Clean this mess up now and get me a phone.”
“Yes, Don,” the owner responded.
Jacopo sat thinking deeply, acting as if nothing had happened. The fat man with the gold rings was dead on the floor and Jacopo didn’t give a fuck.