“Maybe you need to start working again.”
Ouch.”
“Well, it’s true. Did you see what the prime rate went up to today? I don’t think we’d be struggling with the mortgage if one of us was willing to be a little more ruthless sometimes.” She lay back again, immediately regretting her sharpness with him. Still, it true. Why couldn’t he be a little stronger, a little more deliberate, a little more cold-blooded like these contained and quietly decisive men on the screen? After all, he had a baby of his own coming, a family to take care of.
She was beginning to understand what men like Scottso and Mark saw in these films, but also how short they fell of the image. They all thought they could be the Don, but really they were Fredos and Sonnys, either too weak-willed or too impulsive to hold onto power. They lacked the necessary detachment, the patient willingness to stand in the shadows letting events play themselves out until the right opportunity presented itself.
“I want you to open an account,” she said.
What?”
“You heard me. I want you to set up an account, in your own name.”
“What’s this about?”
“Just do what I’m asking you for once. Okay? Is that too much for you?”
“You know, you’re getting kinda bossy all of a sudden, Mama.” He reached over and touched her stomach, seeing if the baby was moving. “Am I going to end up sleeping with the fishes before my son is born?”
“Don’t tempt me.” She pushed his hand away.
Scottso threw the evaluation report down on his desk, almost hitting a platter of tea and cookies his secretary had brought in, his face starting to redden.
“Fucking Larry Longman,” he said. “It took him about two seconds to try to stick a knife in my back.”
“You’re jumping to conclusions,” she answered in a carefully modulated voice. “You’re focusing on trying to guess who said what in the 360s, instead of concentrating on the more substantial analysis of your management style. Do you really think that’s helpful?”
“I know it was Larry, because he had his assistant call about the reservations for the Michael’s meeting the other day.” He fumed, staring out the window. “It’s just like the Don says — whoever comes to you with this meeting, he’s the traitor He’s trying to organize a coup with the other division heads. Those fucking Harvard MBAs can’t stand taking orders from a guy from Bath Avenue.”
She felt herself hang back a bit, like Robert DeNiro in the tenement hallway with his gun, waiting for the Black Hand to arrive.
“Don’t you think that sounds a little paranoid?”
Don’t tell me I’m paranoid,” he said. “Do you know how many of these fuckers are gunning for me? Do you know how bad they wanna see me fail? I worked my whole life to put myself in this chair by the sweat of my balls. And I’m not going to let some little chardonnay-pansy bean counter who can’t stop playing with his pens slip a wire around my throat.”
She tilted forward, clasping her hands before her, studying him closely. “And so what are you going to instead?”
He looked startled. Not so much by the question itself, but by the way she was asking it. Calm, without judgment, and not completely unsupportive. Clearly, he’d been expecting something else from her.
“Well,” he said quietly, “to tell you the truth, I was thinking of making a move on him.”
“You mean, you were thinking of getting rid of him.”
He slowly nodded, assessing the gravity of what he’d just told her and then watching for her reaction.
“You gonna tell the board about that?”
“That’s not my role here.” She held him in a level gaze, imagining that if she stayed this way long enough her cheek-bones would start to rise and her eyes would move back into her skull the way Al Pacino’s did.
“You know, I can’t figure you out.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I thought you’d try to talk me out of it.”
“It’s your business. I’m just the consultant. All I’m asking is if you’re prepared to deal with the fallout. It’s like Michael killing the police captain and Sollozo. You have to be prepared for all-out war afterwards.”
“Jesus.” He ran his tongue under his lip in admiration. “Is this what they teach you in organizational psychology?”
“You said you didn’t need a psychologist,” she reminded him, reaching for one of the cookies. “You needed a wartime consigliere.”
He slapped his desk, pleased with himself. “You know, somehow I knew we were going to be paisans the minute you walked into this office. Something about the way you handle yourself. We’re coming from the same place. You sure you’re not Sicilian?”
“Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in!
Mark unfurled the business section so loudly that Nancy almost missed the gleeful way Al Pacino, older but more feral, tore into the line.
“Will you keep it down?” She rolled over from doing her exercises in front of the set, the baby due in less than six weeks. “I can barely concentrate here.”
“I don’t know why you’re even bothering with the third one. I told you the thrill was gone after Godfather II.
“I still want to see how it ends.”
“You know how it ends. Gangster movies never have a happy ending.” He folded the paper in half and looked at it closely. “Whoa. Your guy’s stock is taking a major beating here. What’s going on?”
“Total bloodbath. I thought I told you.” She raised her head, attempting to catch a glimpse of her feet. “Scottso tried to fire the head of the TV division and put his own guy in, but it just united all the other factions against him and caused a mutiny. They had a meeting the other day that left entrails all over the conference room.”
“And where does that leave Scottso?”
“Hanging by a thread, if you ask me.” She gasped, trying to lift her legs, feeling the baby move down a little further.
“And that doesn’t reflect badly on you?”
“Not my fault if someone decides to self-destruct. Besides, nothing wrong with a little shake-up now and then. Like Clemenza says, it helps get rid of the bad blood.”
“I think you’re turning into the Godfather.”
“What a thing to say to the mother of your unborn child.” She raised up on her elbows, frowning. “If I was a man, you’d be high-fiving me and buying me a beer.”
“If you were a man, I wouldn’t have married you.”
She started practicing her breathing again, trying to decide if she should feel bad. A nice girl wouldn’t act this way. On the other hand, a nice girl might not be able to keep her family from going into debt a month and a half before her first child arrived.
“So, are you still shorting that stock?” she asked.
“Not every single day, but I did a few trades on Wednesday.” He pinched the roll of belly flab he’d been developing in sympathy lately. “I’m worried about playing it too close to the edge.”
“As long as you keep the trades small and use your own last name, there’s not going to be a problem.”
“It still makes me uncomfortable.” He reached back, trying to get at an itch between his shoulder blades. “Betting against the company where your wife’s supposed to be consulting.”
She gave him a long look, silently deciding that he would stay home after the baby was born and she’d go back to work right away. He’d find out about that later. Fredo didn’t make the big decisions in the family.
“Go get me an orange, will you?” she said. “This kid’s sucking the calcium right out of my bones.”