Sprozz was in the backroom of his speakeasy talking to a few of his regulars. None of these folks were connected guys - they were blue collar workers who spent nearly every dime of their paycheck on booze instead of caring for their wife and kids. Pretty lousy excuses of  true 'men' in Sprozz's eyes, but he still spoke to them and made them feel welcome in his place so they'd choose it over his rivals, at least until more important business came up.

The speakeasy itself didn't have a phone, but the bakery which served as a front did, and Sprozz gave the number to his most trusted associates and to his Boss - and it was him that was ringing on this occasion. Mr Serafina tentatively opened the door and came down to the basement where the bar was.

"Eh...Mr. Sprozz...ah, I know-a you don't like-a me coming down here, but I tell you the artist rings the telephone for you? Come come!"

Sprozz smiled at the nervous baker's broken English and followed him up the stairs, conversing in the Sicilian dialect to try and put the man at ease. As soon as Sprozz took the receiver, though, the bonhomie disappeared and he shooed Vincenzo Serafini away.

"Boss?" Sprozz wasn't paranoid, but he knew better than to use names on the phone. He heard the muffled, slightly accented reply come through the phone. Monet was difficult enough to understand at the best of times, over the phone was usually damn near impossible. Thankfully, Sprozz understood the terse command well enough.

"You're in Chicago? Good. Come to me, at the HQ. I want to see you now, 20 minutes ago even!"

Without another word, Sprozz hung up the receiver and donned his fedora and overcoat, stepping out into the brutal chill of midwinter Chicago. He hailed a cab and handed over a $10 before he'd even sat down. It was a fare big enough to get him all the way out of the city and into Cicero, but he made sure the driver understood he wanted to get to his destination extremely quickly. Monet was always curt on the phone, but something in the older gent's tone of voice made Sprozz think he better hotfoot it over to the Foundation compound pretty fuckin' quickly - there was definitely something happening that wasn't quite routine.

Monet had been restless and had been pacing back and forth inside his office. He was smoking a cigarette and drinking a cup of tea while walking back and forth from his studio and office. It was a big decision to do this, although he knew was the right decision the instant he had hung up the phone. The day had been coming for awhile now, he had known that this guy had the potential to be great from the instant he had joined his family. Their bloodlines went back a long time, so far back that the pages of his great-great-grandmother's diary were fading and falling apart. He'd have to perserve those pages some how. 

He was smoking another cigarette when he finally heard loud bangings and shouts coming from downstairs and heavy footsteps coming up the wooden steps. There was a knock.

Monet took a slow drag from his cigarette, counted to 3...

"Come in, Sprozz."

The man looked out of breath, his hat slightly askew on his head, his face slightly pink from the cold winter air. But he looked exicted his eyes sparkling.

"My dear lad. I think you know why I've called you here today," his eyebrows twitched and he took another drag on his cigarette.

"You've been waiting for it for some time now and I think you deserve it. But before that happens I need you to do some thing for me. I want you to get Sal_Giaqunito here as soon as possible."

Sprozz grimaced slightly as he felt the throbbing in his shin. What stupid prick had put an umbrella stand right in front of the door. Jesus christ. Standing in front of his Boss's desk, he removed his hat before rubbing self conciously at his scalp. Only two days before some rent-a-broad had told him he was going grey and now he couldn't get the thought out of his head. Spinning his hat in his hand, Sprozz idled around the room as he made sense of his boss' comments. He grinned, they said good news came in threes. If was was interpreting right, Monet was giving the nod for him to become a Boss in the family, as well as opening the books for his associate Sally Gee to get his button. That was two parts of good news, so maybe he'd win the lottery tonight. Or get laid, maybe.

"Sure thing Boss, I'll use your telephone to call him if you don't mind, I gotta coupla places where he might be. By the way, I deliver you 8 fuckin' cases of Coffee and you sit drinking tea over there? I mean, forgive my language but that shit doesn't grow on trees! Well, it does - but still, 8 cases! Premium goods, 

Monet opened his mouth to respond, but before he could Sprozz had left the room to use the telephone. Again, subtlety was the key. It wasn't the tradition to give away such important news on the phone and besides, you always had to be careful for the lines being tapped. Apparently the G's could do that know, those sneaky little motherfuckers. After a couple of bum calls, Sprozz finally got through to his man.

"Sal, it's me. How long till you're back in the city?"

A reply came from the other line and Sprozz responded before hanging up the telephone.

"Ok, that works. Come pick me up at my place at 9, we're going to see the Boss. Bring your Buick, I don't like the seats in that Cadillac, those godamn seats are murder for my sciatica. And when you come, make sure you say hello to my wife for God's sake, she's sore cause she said you never thanked her for that Veal!"

Sprozz returned back to Monet's office to update him on the news.

"Ok Boss, I got hold of him - he's outta town at the moment but when he gets back he'll come straight here. I'm gonna go on home to freshen up, and besides -  I haven't seen the kids since their choir practice so I gotta say my hellos. Sal will pick me up on the way through and we'll both be here around 10 at the latest."

Donning his hat, Sprozz made for the door, before turning around as if forgetting something.

"You know, that kid really does deserve his button - he's a hard worker, a real earner. In some ways though, I'll be sorry to see him advance - he's a great associate, you know. Drives me around the place, fronts me spare cash - he's a real gem; won't be able to replace him so easy I can tell ya!"

With that, Sprozza left and called one of the guys to drive him to his house. He wondered if he had time to meet his comare on the way but dismissed the idea. He'd be returning just as his wife was cooking dinner and if he said his hellos smelling of perfume whilst she had the cooking knife in her hand, he'd be going to this meeting tonight with his balls in a paper bag.

ThirdSun nods his head after hearing through the grapevine that his pal and dedicated Chicago wise guy has been made.

Congratulations mate. Nobody deserves it more than you and this is a wonderful city to make such a progression in.

ThirdSun puts on his fedora and drives away dreaming of the day that he too can earn his button...

The obnoxiousness of old rotary phone interrupted the tranquility of the farm. Salvatore awoke from his dose and reaches for the receiver and drew towards face.

“Hello.”

He stood up when heard Sprozz’s voice on the other end.

“I’m at Uncle Gino’s tending the flock – I got clean up, let’s say an hour.” He said.

After his sponsor mentioned the boss wanting to see him,  Sprozz’s next words paled in importance. A spell of genuine anxiousness came over him. He hung up the phone and dusted himself off before heading to the pig pen. As he approached their haven of filth the smell of shit and death bloomed in the air. He shined a light on the swine. The three half-starved terrors glared at him through the fenced.

“No trace of Mr. Burke. Good work girls.” He said to the fat hogs.

He walked to his motor and took a dusty dirt road back to 20 and headed back to Chicago. The ride on 20 was quiet enough. Nothing out of the ordinary.  The solitude and dark ride home continued to feed his anxiousness. “Why does the boss want to see me?” He though.

The dark trees that flanked Route 20 turned into Skyscrapers and he was nearly home. He climbed the three stories to his apartment and immediately jumped into the shower washing off the filth of a long bloody day. The hot water and soap offered some comfort, allowing him to relax, if only a little.

He quickly dried up, did a quick shave and threw on nice white suit and matching pair of jacket and pants. He did a double take in the mirror, slipped his shoes on and was off out the door on the way to Sprozz’s home. Sprozz lived in a quiet neighborhood; it was no millionaire quarter but good enough for his wife and two kids. He saved the city air for the mistress’s pad.

Eventually he reached his sponsor’s home. He stepped out of the Buick and inspected himself in the reflection of the window before approaching the front door. There he offered respect knock.

Sprozz was in the den playing with the kids when the he heard knocking at the door. It'd be Sal, no doubt. The wife had already got to the door first and was busy fussing over him. Sprozz decided he'd leave it 5 minutes before he made an appearance, knowing that interrupting his wife in full flow would only earn her ire. He checked himself over one last time in the mirror, tie straight, waist-jacket buttoned up. He shrugged himself into a charcoal grey suit jacket and made his way to the front door, clapping Sal on the shoulder and ushering him outta the door. With a quick peck on his wife's cheek, Sprozz was out the door himself.

"Don't wait up for me, it'll be a late one."

When the two gents were both settled in the car, Sprozz picked up on Sal's nervousness and chuckled inwardly, no doubt the guy's asshole was twitching like a kitten's nose! Still, it was an experience everyone went through and it was only right that the sponsor in the situation should do a bit of ball busting.

"Sheesh Sally, I tell you we're meeting the boss and you pick me up lookin' like a bankrupted account! What is that suit over there?! Take the backroads by the way. I just heard about a timber truck losing it's load on the '55, the road's closed I hear."

Sprozz saw Sal's jaw tighten and laughed aloud, punching the younger man on the arm

"I'm busting your balls kid! You look real slick, like a feller from one of those new talking pictures! Did you thank my wife for the veal? I sure fucking hope you did!'

At the change to small talk, Sal lightened up a bit though Sprozz could tell he was a bit tense. Soon, the journey was coming to a close. Arriving up at the HQ, Sprozz had the door open before the car had rolled to a complete stop. 

"I don't know if you're carrying Sal, but if you are you leave it in the glovebox right here, capicse?"

Salvatore stealthily emptied his holster and placed his 1911 in the glove box, before joining up with Sprozz.

"Don't worry chief, I thanked your lovely wife for the veal after that ration she gave me. It was delicious and I was sure to tell her. Real maestro - your wife. Your a lucky guy chief." Nervously said as they entered the HQ and approached the majestic doors to the bosses office. It was getting late and the regular crowd was no where to be seen.

"So how do I look?" He asked before they reached the doors of the office.

As I have spent the day reading my family journals one thing has become apparent my blood line and yours go back a very long way.

Judging by the regard my ancestors have had for yours if you are half the mobster that they were you will excel in our world.


Congratulation Sal