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That business venture we discussed... Marcus said as he pulled a cigarette from between his lips and flicked the ash in the tray beside him... all straightened away. The union now pays us dues of fifteen percent.
Godfather Roman began to chuckle, the union leaders had refused him just last week. The two man sat in the Godfather's study smoking a few fine cigars, well cigarettes for Marcus, talking business. Just then, a knock on the thick oak door and Premeir strolled in like he owned the place. Marcus looked up at him away from his drink and smiled. Premeir had become like a brother to him and he always welcomed his company. Marcus could see it in the Godfather's eyes that he felt the same way. Roman had always been an important adult figure in Premeir's life, but after his father died, the Godfather took an almost fatherly roll over the kid.
Marcus motioned to an over sized leather chair, it was the only one that was open, himself and Roman sat in the other two. Premeir took the seat and the gentlemen were able to talk freely with each other in the small cluster of chairs. Marcus moved to pour Premeir a drink and relighting another cigarette before his current one went out. He didn't take his seat after he handed Premeir a scotch, instead he walked over to a tall glass case. The Godfather was a man who liked to collect antique guns, he handed the key to Marcus who opened the case.
It's time we showed you something Premer.
Marcus pulled a box out from the bottom of the gun case. He walked back across the room and sat down, laying the box on the coffee table in front of the three of them. Marcus removed the top from it and unwrap the item that was held inside laying a piece of fabric over each of the wider sides of the box. He then sat back and nodded for Premeir to look inside.
"Is that..."
Premeir started to ask, but wasn't able to finish. Marcus answered for him, knowing what he was going to say.
Yes, that is the gun that malfunctioned in your fathers hand. I figured you'd like to fix it.
Marcus smiled as Premeir took the gun out of the box, using both hands to cradle it as if it were a newborn child.
Marcus paused taking a drag of his cigarette. While we're on the subject of taking out the old and in with the new, Roman, you'll be happy to know I've finally decided on a new crew name. The Walking Dead.
Marcus smiled, satisfied with himself.
"Wait, what? You're just going to toss my father's name to the fishes?"
Premeir asked accusingly, his eyes narrowed. Marcus didn't take offense to this, he knew Premeir was only defending his father and would soon understand everything.
Unions aren't the only thing that have been on our minds today, we've also been thinking about you and how much you've impressed us. Roman has decided to expand Chicago and we'd like to start with you Premeir. Today I'm not only passing your fathers gun down to you, but also the family name that I carried from him so you may build your own mob headquarters and continue the legacy.
Marcus raised his glass up over the coffee table.
I'd like to make a toast to a new era of the Spanish Inquisition, The Walking Dead and Godfather Roman's continuous prosperity and growth.
The other two men raised and clinked their own glasses with Marcus.
"To business."
Godfather Roman said, following with Marcus.
To family.
"To women."
Premeir added just as the door opened and SyrupWaffle walked through the frame.
"Speak of the devil."
Premeir said as Marcus stood and greeted his right hand, Syrup rolling her eyes at Premeir.
"The car is ready, the street awaits all your announcements."
Syrup spoke and ushered all of the men out of the room.
"Where would you all be without me? Oh yes, you really would be something like the walking dead. Marcus, I see now why you chose such a name."
She said before closing the door behind them. |
