"So I talk to the guy, he's giving me all this fuckin' lip and talking bout Philadelphia this and that, talking bout the pier, got to the point I had to fuckln' smack 'im upside the head. Do you know how fuckin' bad it gets with these wannabe wise guys? Always yapping about their business back East like we give a rats ass." 

Sitting on 5th Street's Cerello Bistro, Junior and a few of his known associates, Mike Taresi, Christopher Satrielle, and Antonio Clemente made their laughs. Each speaking on the alleged wiseguys of the Philly mob, they couldn't help it, those guys couldn't tell their ass from their own two hands. 

"So what's this I hear about some shipments from Palermo getting fucked? Something about the port chief? We need to grease that pig again? Its been, a week or so since you came back? He's already trying to squeeze you for info, government asses. Don't even know a good thing when it gets to 'em." Taresi was an angry little man, he always seemed to have something that angered him, he need temper that soon. The bosses didn't need that shit, and neither did Junior. 

Huffing along at his 'rette, Junior gave his associate a little smile before shrugging. O'Brien would be dealt with, he was a man that often required the calming touch of a partner. Junior didn't care whether male, female, or alien. As long as his shipment came in, and he was able to support the family. 

"It happens when it happens, alright? I'm not going to be warning you again, Taresi, that anger's going to be the death of you. I can't be having some upjumped hoodlum thinking he deserves more than the leathers I found him in! You want to deal in business, go out there and do something. Kick it up to me and I'll make sure you're taken care of, aight?" Stubbing out the 'rette, Junior moved to stand before a black sedan rolled down the curb of Cerello's. 

Uniforms stepped out, each holding a badge of the FBN, it took them long enough. Before they had a chance, Junior took the step and held up his hands, giving them each a smile. 

"Gentleman, how may I help you today? I don't believe your wives have come here for some of the fine dining that Mister Cerello often cuts with his fine meats. Should I get some made for you?" Cordially, Junior made to turn and signal for some of the meats but a pointed cough had Junior tittering as his brow rose in question. 

"Charles Pavanno Jr?" A weathered greying man in a brown three-piece suit parted the sea of uniforms, holding his badge. It seemed to shimmer in the sunlight, taking Junior for surprise by a small minute. 

He shrugged, "My mother called me that, I prefer Junior, how may I help you Officer Lucante?" Motioning for a coffee with three sugars, his associates went off, many going into Cerello and two remaining at a table off to the wayside, chatting in hushed tones as Junior offered a seat to Lucante. 

"I don't like standing for too long, makes me feel as if I'm about to pass a sermon. How may I help you, officer?" Pointedly, he asked the final time and with this, Lucante accepted and sat opposite Junior with a smug smile of his own. 

"I wanted to inform you that the docks and ports of Los Angeles are currently being investigated for Organized Crime. A family, formerly by the name of Flori e Sole. We believe that you have sensitive information that may prove useful to us. I'm offering a chance, come with me and I can assist you with your life." Lucante laid that out almost, for a moment he would have dared to say that another uniform of the FBN was a corrupt man...

Leaning back, Junior crossed his legs over one another and found himself intrigued. He would have guessed the meaning, the moment where the tone in his voice changed from bitter swallow to acceptance of the truth. To where Junior could have the man right where he wanted him, they were far enough that they were practically in their own homes. 

"Officer, I have to think about this, a moment where you, a soldier in the war against Organized Crime wants to employ a citizen to assist you? There has to be a reason, a play and I'm not sure I like the game you're suggesting here." 

Pausing as he watched the officer and the two of them didn't have anything to hide, at all. Junior was only smoothly stepping back, they were not going to be hunting him down already and if they were, why put him here? On this job of things, though it did settle one matter. 

Already, the man gave him crucial information in which the docks were locked off and possibly would be, that left his shipment sitting. He'd need another port, somewhere that he'd be able to get the hardware across the fucking states and to him, where it rightly should be. 

"Not a game, an opportunity, I help you and well, I'll see if I can come up with anything, hm? Its not like an outstanding ctizien like yourself has anything to be worried about, hm?" Shrugging, the officer stood to his feet as a single yellow post-it note was passed along the table.

"To friends, isn't that the way Junior?" Puffing up as he was a greater white shark than any other in the sea, the officer swaggered away. Leaving a comtemplating Junior for a moment, this was business but Lucante, he was a different man. Maybe there would be some good things to come through this.