The drive to headquarters was quiet and long.  Frankie didn’t recognize the street rat sent to pick her up on behalf of Don Dovahkiin and that was only one of the things that felt all wrong about this whole thing. 

The call to visit Dovahkiin at the Nightingale’s headquarters came in at 10:00pm.  She was already settling in for a quiet night at home.  Tony was out of town on business for the Don and checking on Frank’s holdings in Chicago and wouldn’t be back for hours.  The Don ended the call with specific instructions that felt ominous to say the least, “Leave your boys behind.  You don’t need them.  I’ll send a boy around with my car.  He’ll pick you up and bring you back safely.”

Leave her bodyguards?  Why would the Don want to meet with her this way?  She never bought them into a meeting, obviously they would have stayed with the car or waited in another room… the order to come alone without protection usually foretold of doom.  So, Frankie penned a note to Tony and gave it to Luca, “Only give this to Tony after I’ve been missing three days.  Do you hear me?  Three.  Not a moment sooner no matter what your gut is telling you.  I won’t have him shooting up our Don over a misunderstanding.”

Luca nodded and accepted the letter and Frankie waited by the door for the grubby young man dressed in a suit that was too large for him.  He held open the door, she got in, and didn’t look back. 

As the car pulled into the parking garage, Frankie tried not to let her mind wander to dark things.  The sort of things her Grandfather, Don Enzo, in Sicily would have done to off a man who was growing in power and influence the way she was.  Had Dovahkiin learned of her attempts to buy property and business in Seattle?  That was likely the whole of it… the question was, what would she say or do about it?  Give her blessing?  This seemed a lot of drama for that – or would she end her before she had the chance to leave with a third of her Nightingales in tow?

Frankie loved Dovahkiin, as one loves an older sister.  Getting out of the car and walking toward the door into the building she thought about how she could be express that – that her intentions to branch out to Seattle could be great for Dovah and her operation.  An ally in the Pacific Northwest could mean less chance for other families to get the jump on her.  Surely, she’d see that?

Up the cement stairs and through a locked door.  One of Dovahkiin’s most trusted bodyguards waited and he patted Frankie down, making a point to take her gun and knives.  She knew now, whatever was going to happen – she had to face it as a Messina.  She lifted her chin and walked with dignity through the door way and down the hall to Dovahkiin’s office.

The Queen of Thieves’ office was termed such, loosely.  Frankie had never met a Mafioso like Dovahkiin.  The Old Country operated in a variety of ways that were different from its American counterparts, but this was all together different.  Often, she’d wondered why Lucy had chosen to send her to Dovahkiin as opposed to a more traditional gangster. The only answer for why she ever dreamed up, was that no matter how strange her ways, Dovahkiin was a woman – a powerful woman – and Frankie needed to see that a woman could become powerful in this thing.

No doubting that Dovahkiin was powerful.

The vast room was dark.  Rough-hune stone walls surrounded her, reaching up into a darkness so to hide their true height.  The room was circular and set into the walls were door ways into various crew member’s offices and one door to the initiation room where made men were given their button or killed for failing to meet the Don’s expectations. 

Arching out into the center, off the round walkway, were arching stone bridges that went to a singular platform where the desk of the Don stat alone in the only true light of the room which cast long shadows all around for people to hide within.  It was truly a thieves’ paradise and nearly inaccessible to anyone outside of its membership.

Don Dovahkiin sat at her desk, dressed in a suit, flanked on either side by two large goons who regularly traveled with her.  She appeared engrossed in work, not seeming to be aware as Frankie crossed the stone bridge over the water and coming to stop before her.  There were other chairs in front of Dovahkiin’s desk, but Frankie didn’t feel they were meant for her.  So, she stood and waited for her Don to look up.  Her hands folded in front of her navy colored suit.

“The Dons of the families have met.”  She said, not looking up from whatever paperwork she was doing.  “Seattle is being opened up for business and we’ve come to terms on how we will decide which families get to send their Captains into the city.  We’ve come to these terms without bloodshed.”

Frankie nodded.  It was no small thing that the families found a way to work out such details without death.  It was impressive really and either spoke to massive moves towards reform – or an utter death trap for the unfortunate sons of bitches being granted authorization to be there.  A way to be rid of people who were good enough to be a problem, but not trusted enough to authorize locally.  If the people survived and sent tribute home – the Dons’ won.  If the Dons had to send hitmen to kill them, thus eliminating a threat to their power, the Dons’ also won.  It was a brilliant scheme, but one that made a real problem for her personal plans.

Dovahkiin nodded and one of her men whistled.  From the shadows behind Dovahkiin, across the arched bridge that lead down to the initiation room – Frankie saw a familiar face being drug forward.  Her stomach turned slightly at the thought of what all of this meant.  The man in question, worked for her.  He was a low level nobody, but he was one of hers.

The man was put on his knees in front of the desk, right in front of Frankie and left there, silent – waiting as if for the executioner’s axe.  Dovahkiin chose this moment to finally look up and meet Frankie’s eyes.  “For a Caporegime you have a lot of ambition.  Perhaps too much?”  She said tilting her head slightly.

Frankie did not reply.  It was best not to speak when rhetorical were being tossed around with people who could ultimately decide your fate.

“This man was in Seattle.  You have a business there?”

“Yes.”  Frankie knew better than to lie to her Don.

“Legitimate?”

“On paper.”  She said.  “Real estate can offer a lot of opportunities, though.”

Dovahkiin nodded.  “Theft is done with more than picks and tumblers, yes?”  She smiled.

Frankie gave a small smile in return.  For a while Dovahkiin watched her, as if expected something more from Frankie, but Frankie had no idea what the woman wanted and so she offered nothing.  Better to offer nothing to offer the Don the wrong thing.

“What does this man do for you exactly?” She finally asked, seemingly tired of waiting for Frankie to reveal something she’d not yet said she was looking for.

“He’s a confidence man.”  She said flatly.

“We found him in Seattle.  What was he working on up there?”

“I had him scouting properties.  Loosening fingers holding prime real estate though… subtle means.”

Dovahkiin nodded.  “And this is where the extra tribute you’ve been sending me has come from?”

Frankie nodded.  She’d sent up somewhere around $20 Million to her Don because of the real estate venture.  It hadn’t been exactly approved… but then again, it hadn’t been expressly forbidden either.

Dovahkiin leaned back in her chair and began cleaning under her nails with a very large knife.  “What cut have I been getting?”

“35… sometimes 40 when the take is big, and money is good.”

“Rumor has it that you still tribute Don Enzo is Messina?”

Frankie drew a slow breath.  This was a touchy thing.  Some Dons could be very jealous of blood ties and it was entirely possible Dovahkiin might insist she stop sending tribute to her Grandfather.  This, of course, would cause an issue and so Frankie prayed that this discussion would not go that direction.

“Five.”  She said quietly.

“Five?”  Dovahkiin quarried as if she did not believe it to be that small.

“Five.  I occasionally let merchandise fall into his hands too.  Never much, but enough to show I remember where I come from and I never forget the people who made me.”

“I made you.”  She said flatly.  “Get him out of here and leave us.”  She told the bodyguards.  The goons came forward and grabbed up the man at Frankie’s feet, walking him out.  She gave him a reassuring nod as he departed.

As soon as the large metal doors closed in resounding echo that filled the massive chamber, Dovahkiin asked, “So you’ll remember me when you leave for Seattle to set up your Ivory Tower?”  The Don closed the paperwork she had in front of her to reveal a manila folder with LuckyLucy’s photo paperclipped to the front.

“I was going to come to you about this.  I never would have moved without the families coming to terms and without your blessing.”

“So, it’s true… you’re taking up Lucky’s operations?  You mean to re-launch in Seattle.”

“Only if I have your blessing.”  She stressed the first word.

Frankie was startled to hear Dovahkiin say, “You have it.”

“I… thank you.”  She steadied herself, her mind racing, trying to figure out why the hell Dovah had put her through all of this if she knew her desires, her plans, and she supported them.  “I will greatly miss everyone in your operation.  Rest assured I won’t need a thing, not a penny, just your friendship.  I don’t know what I would do if I lost that.”

Dovahkiin walked around the front of the desk and leaned against it, staring Frankie in the eyes.  “We’ll see each other often.  It’s not so far to Seattle… and I know you won’t want to leave your husband for too long of a stretch at a time.  What young married couple can ever stand to be apart for long?”  She smiled.

Frankie felt the barb.  It was sharp.  It cut deep.  The Don struck true.  A velvet glove concealing an iron gauntlet felt as though it had been whipped across her cheek.  Frankie looked down.  Dovahkiin would keep Tony.  Of course, she would.  He was an incredible worker.  His earnings had to be solid and to say nothing of how he handled the Don’s problems.  Letting Tony go with her, was out of the question.  You didn’t give your best away to another city.  She might as well have expected Mead to have come with her.

“Of course,” Dovahkiin said softly, her tone that of a kind friend again, “Maybe you would consider another idea entirely?  One that requires you see a bigger picture.  One that requires patience and loyalty – even if it means giving up on immediate gratification of your desires.”

Frankie looked up from the floor.

“Prior to learning about your toe hold in Seattle, I was planning on calling you her to name you one of my Bosses – give you more control in my operation.  I trust you.  I like you.  I see a bit of myself in you, Francesca.  I wouldn’t have taken you in simply because of Lucy’s word.  You earned that button and my respect as Capo.”

“Thank you.”  Frankie whispered.

“In just a few days’ time, I will be claiming Godmother Chairmen of all Las Vegas.”  Frankie’s mind raced.  Surly she wasn’t going to offer her authorization under her?  Indifference or Mead were certain to get it.  The tower would not stand here – surely not.  She didn’t even dare hope for such a far fetched ideal and yet… if both hands were to go up with her, then she would need someone to take up the slack on The Strip.

Frankie held her breath and waited for her Don to speak.

“Indifference will be authorized to run operations on The Strip.”  She said as if she knew the secret hope of Frankie’s heart.  She nodded and wet her lips.  This, of course, was to be expected.  Her most loyal and powerful would stay at her right hand, her left hand authorized… this was the way of things.

“But I will have an opening at my left hand.  The question is… would you accept it.”  She raised a cautioning finger.  “You will say nothing of this, to anyone.  You will go home tonight, and you will sleep on this.  You will call me tomorrow with your decision but think hard on this, Francesca.  Your loyalty has been unquestionable.  If you choose to leave it will be with my blessing and $50,000,000 as well as the promise that the Nightingales will stand with you going forward – allies.”

“However, for whatever it’s worth, I don’t want you to go.  I haven’t even considered another person for the position – that’s how sure I was that you would stand with me as we rise to take control of Las Vegas properly.  It was my hope that we’d do great things here in Sin City.  And, should we ever reclaim Paradise, you would be in line to receive the nod.”

“I know that could be a long way off – and that being my left hand might not be the same as being the head of your own family, but I remain faithful that you’ll make the right decision.”  Dovahkiin picked up the folder and handed it to Frankie.  “I’ll be waiting for your call.”

Frankie took the folder and walked out, never opening it until she was in the back seat of Dovahkiin’s car.  Silently she read through the letters and documents inside.  She said nothing until she arrived back at her and Tony’s apartment.  “Thank you.”  She said to the boy as he opened her door. 

Up the stairs and into her sitting room she went.  Kneeling beside the fireplace she started a blaze.  Piece by piece she let each of the papers, the photos inside, the folder and then Lucy’s picture burn up in the flames – making certain nothing was left for anyone to ever read or seen again.

Standing up she went to the bedroom where Tony, bare the waist was already fast asleep.  She watched him for a time, laying there in a pool of desert moonlight, and she thought about the things she wanted to do with her life.  The things she dreamed of accomplishing… of vast wealth, but more importantly, of leaving a legacy and what that legacy would look like.  Would it be grand like Lucy’s Ivory Tower or something far simpler?

She walked over to the bed, undressed and slid between the sheets, coming along side of Tony.  Feeling her there, he moaned and smiled and rolled over to pull her into his embrace.  An instant later he was snoring again.  She smiled at him, and with her index finger brushed a bit of hair off his face. 

All her life she’d supposed what she wanted was to stand tall – a true Messina, not just one of the women, but proudly a family leader.  Staying here at Dovahkiin’s side might simply mean she’d settled upon a position in which she’d likely be standing when the bullet with her name on it was fired.  If she didn’t go to Seattle, it was very likely she’d never lead her own family and, assuredly never see Godmother.

Tony’s chest rose and fell slowly, steadily, and the sound soothed her mind.  Her mind drifted back to Lucy, whose meddling for her own ends had brought her to this place in life and granted her the chance at all these things. 

She considered what was in the folder… the coroner’s photos: look of Frank on a cold slab, bullets having ripped apart so much of what had once been a handsome man.  Crime scene photos: how they found poor pregnant Lucy, dead at her brother’s wedding.  Correspondences between long dead crew leaders, people who were her allies who plotted and carried out her brutal murder. 

Correspondences between crew leaders who later claimed to avenge her, and their duplicitous natures.  Dovahkiin was trying to give her a peak at the reality of what awaited her in Seattle.  As a crew leader, and far from the protection of her family – the Nightingales.

What might have happened if Lucy’s ambitions had not taken her so high?  Frankie remembered the letters in the folder, letters between dead Godfathers and Lucy.  Conversations that took a no one to heights unimaginable. 

Frankie stared up at her ceiling.  She wasn’t sure there was a way that Lucy and Frank could have avoided death – perhaps they lived far longer than most do or should in this thing which she found herself.  And, maybe that was the real point of Dovahkiin’s dossier about Lucy.  Another side of the story she hadn’t considered before – it wasn’t how much time you got; maybe it was about what you did with it that truly created a legacy worth respecting… worth remembering.

Frankie closed her eyes.  A tear leaked from the corner of her eye and ran down her cheek.  Someday… maybe soon… she and Tony were going to die.  This was the truth and now that she embraced it; she had to decide what the fuck to do with it.

White light filtered through the window and distantly the sounds of the city coming alive could be heard.  The shower thundered, and Tony’s sweet voice filled the steamy air coming out of the bathroom.  Sitting up she rolled over to the phone, knowing now what she really wanted with the limited time God had given to her on this Earth.  She punched in the numbers to Dovahkiin’s office phone.

“It’s Frankie.”  She said flatly.  “I’m in.  I’ll pull my people out of Seattle.”

“No.”  Dovahkiin snapped.  “Keep them there until you hear otherwise from me.  My cut is 40%.  Consistent.  Seven can go to your Grandfather, but you cut out the merchandise and products without my knowledge.”

“Fair.”  She replied.  Hearing the shower turn off.

“I’ll see you this evening, Underboss Messina.”

Frankie smiled.  “I look forward to it, Don Dovahkiin.”