Giuseppe's Pizzeria: Wooster Square October 30th, 2026. 10:45 AM

There was a time for The Don to get out of this business. That time was 20 years ago. Perfect time for it too. He was still in his vigorous sixties, had a new wife, a new child, and a new respectable position on the city council. Old ways of doing business were getting too hot; new ways of doing business were getting too complicated. It would have been the perfect time. Alas.

“None of this shit would have happened if Mikey was still here,” Leonardo said. He sat in the limo across from The Don. Half looking out the window for threats, half musing to himself. Joey Salvatore, now long divorced from his first wife, no longer had a wife to bicker with. A role cousin Leonardo dutifully shouldered.

“Mikey didn’t like your treaty either, but you have to be smart about bending it. And José - He ain’t smart.”

It was Leo’s favorite line of attack. The Don would normally boast about his son’s performance at Yale School of Management. He was silent this time, lost in thought as Leo got out of the parked limo and walked behind it.

Leo opened the door, expecting a retort. He remained seated and spoke without looking at his enforcer. “Are we prepared?” The Don asked.

“Your Consiglere’s found several buyers. Not at their value. But they’ll pay cash; we can build a war chest to last us a year.”

“See if they’ll pay in silver. I’m willing to take a loss for it.”

“It’ll only cost us 30 years of work.” Leo sneered. The Don slowly got out of the car with Leo’s help. “What do you even have to offer them? You can't donate plasma, and we’re all out of virgins.”

“I am going to offer her a choice. My army is going to war. We can move to destroy their enemies, or move to destroy them.”

“Perhaps you should reach out to the other families first?” Leo asked.

Don Salvatore scoffed, which triggered a coughing fit. “No point. If they aren’t behind bars, they’re fully legitimate, and if they aren’t, they despise me. It would be in their interest to protect the last family in New England.”

“I doubt they agree with you about that last part. You know how those old timers feel about half-bloods."

"Jose's mother is Cubana; you talk like she's one of them."

"Just tellin you how they think. Still, it's too bad you couldn’t snag an Italian girl after Mikey.- .”

“Mikey's been dead for 20 years.” The Don stood up straight. "There's no point bringing up ancient history. José is the future of this organization, for better or worse.”

Leo and Joey walked past José’s Black SUV. parked in a reserved space outside of Giuseppe’s Pizzeria.

“Well, presently, I’ve a mind to whoop his ass.”

+++

Giuseppe’s Pizzeria and Subs was a popular establishment in what's now considered an affluent part of town. Not too far from the Yale campus, but far enough to not cater to them. Residents complained that it’s gone downhill since the 2010s, and everyone has their own grand reason why.

The reason was simple. The Don’s restaurant was made to launder money and garner goodwill, and so the best ingredients were purchased and sold at a loss. Since the FBI crackdowns of the 2010s, the Don went legitimate, and thus these phenomenal pizzeria fronts became merely good.

And it's here amidst the elderly, hungover, and tourists, that Joseph Salvatore IV, known as José, was feasting with his underlings after a busy night.

José’s face was the spitting image of the browning, framed photograph of the original Giuseppe Salvatore. José sat underneath, clad in white athleisure and surrounded by all manner of laughing thugs and fawning floozies.

“I told you, you gotta watch those ghoul bitches. They’re crazier than their masters.”

“Yeah, still screamed like a little bitch when we threw her drak into the sunrise.”

The waiters and waiting staff trepidatiously look at the group to see if they need anything before doing any of their regular tasks. A bell rings. They all stop to acknowledge the presence of The Don, wait for him to nod, smile, then resume their preparations for the Lunch rush.

“Ey, José, tell Maria bout that one drak.”

“So Vinnie and I were almost out of silver, and we got this one hipster-lookin ' drak come out of the employee lounge.”

“What did he say?”

“Some shit bout ‘the blood curse shall be upon-.”

“Skip the spooky drak shit, José, get to the good part.”

Leo and Don Salvatore walked silently towards the corner where José and his friends convened. The wait staff parted like the Red Sea. The party seemed unperturbed.

“Yeah! Anyways, he comes at me with this knife, and I get my Granny’s crucifix out, and what was the face he made, Dom?”

José’s friend in a tank top and gold chains hissed to the shrieking delight of the barflies beside him.

“HA! No, seriously, José whips it out as the Drak’s tryin to look away. José goes. ‘The Power of Christ compels your ass! Then I pierce his heart with a fuckin' broom handle in front of his Drak girlfriend.”

The boys all laugh, then one of them sees The Don and Leo; he nudges José.

Don Salvatore pulls the silver crucifix from his pocket. “I believe you dropped this?”

To Don’s chagrin, José was not suddenly admonished, but actually exuberant.

“Paps! You’re here, come join us.”

Leo plays along. “What's the occasion, boys?”

“The Salvatores just showed we don’t let anything mess with our turf.” Said Vinnie, José's man.

José explains, “I caught several draks running operations on our turf. I told them that they need to pack things up, and they refused. So I cleared those fuckin dr-hey!”

The Don turns beet red and grabs his son. Metal dishes and glass crash down to the floor.

“You fucking idiot! Do you know what you've just done?"

"Hey Paps!"

"You fucked us! You fucked us, you stupid little shit! You! You!”

Leo grabs the Don as the man, turning red and purple, freezes and gasps for air.

José looked to his father on the floor and didn’t waste a moment. “I'll take him to a hospital.”

The Don refused and spoke with angered, labored breaths. “No, we don't have time for that! Leo! Get me to my penthouse, tell my Doc to meet me there. And, Leo?”

“Yeah, boss.”

“Make the call.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“No, I’m not sure. But I don’t have a damn choice.”

Leo stepped in front of the concerned crowd, as certain waitstaff helped The Don up. “It’s ok, everyone. Old Man forgot his meds; now, if you’d kindly hand over those phones you were recording with to José over here. Suzie! Keep the pizza and beer coming, for these fine patrons. Anything they want, on the house!”

“I’m coming with you both.” José slapped the phones offered to him and ran towards the exit, only to meet the shove of Leo. Leo was a man used to looking up at those around him and knew how to make them still feel small. The secret was the smile.

“Oh no you don’t. You’ve done enough, thanks.”

“I’m trying to help you guys and -”

“And now Daddy has to clean up your mess. So sit yer ass down.”

“You expect me to just wait here.”

“Damn right, now sit down, join your lil’ friends. Enjoy your pizza. Tonight you’re gonna be eatin' shit and lead, and tomorrow’s serving a continental breakfast in hell.”