The Flower Shop: A Sicilian Mafia Story
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About this ebook
First, he loses his job. Then, inexplicably, Don Gaetano, a retired Mafia boss, offers him an opportunity to rent one of his stores and start a business.
Vincenzo, Gaetano's son, needs a special favor from his father, which will somehow involve Alfredo.
Calogero, Don Gaetano's faithful assistant, is Alfredo's brother-in-law and will reluctantly be used to grant Don Gaetano access to Alfredo's life.
In the end, Don Gaetano's desire to play God will lead him to act in a way that surprises everyone, including the law.
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The Flower Shop - Giuseppe Guarino
¹ That moment was sacred. It was accompanied by rituals that introduced the beginning of the day and the end of the time of sleep. Espresso is necessary. It is not something you have. It is more than something you drink. The Italian short, strong, espresso coffee is the only possible way Alfredo can really feel that the working day can be faced.
There it was. The small cup was right in front of him. Davide put it there with slow, perfect precision. All he had to do now was lift his right hand and grab the cup. No sugar, not now, not on Monday morning. Time goes by so slowly. All his senses were captured by the smell and the anticipation of the strong flavor of that amazing Italian drink. The first sip was quick. Just a little, to taste it. A few drops wet the lips and fall gently on the tongue. The second was long. The head falls back as the black coffee fall showers the mouth. The third is shorter. Taken after a few seconds pause and a sad look at the empty cup, which Alfredo would have literally squeezed hoping to get more of the ecstatic fluid.
Then the cup goes down, as a smile of appreciation finds its way to catch Davide’s attention. The coffee man knows his mission is completed, and another Sicilian employee is ready to perform efficiently thanks to his work. Alfredo was ready to enter his office with an optimistic smile on his face.
There are some people in society who embrace a specific commitment to make other people's lives miserable. They are everywhere - they go out with you on a Saturday, show up in public offices, and you find them waiting for you behind the desk in a bank.
Alfredo had his own personal thorn in the side in his office. He knew that as soon as he walked through the door, he would hear her complaints about the weather, parking, the weekend, and, of course, about the things that needed to be done at work during the day.
That morning, something incredibly unusual happened. She did not say a word. She did not complain. She was kind and spoke with a low tone. Alfredo understood that something was definitely wrong.
The telephone rang, and he had not even sat down yet. It was 9 am sharp. His colleague answered the phone sadly and then spoke:
Alfredo, Mr. Rimpiattiti wants to talk to you. Now. In his office.
It was now clear that there was no way a Monday could be easy to face or easily underestimated. As a premonition, without reason, he remembered that almost everything in his life had happened on a Monday. He was born on a Monday. He had met his wife on a Monday. He had married and become a father... little did he know what awaited him that Monday.
Giuseppe Rimpiattiti was the idiotic, only child of the founder and owner of the company. He sat behind the desk of the executive manager because he was fit to do nothing, but it was necessary for him to occupy a position of prestige that would give him enough money to lead the decent life of a quite rich man.
He was on the phone and waved Alfredo to sit down on the comfortable armchair, on the left side, in front of his desk. There were no walls in the room, just huge windows from which you could see the whole town. The two main city buildings, taller than the rest, dominated the scene.
I haven't seen you in a while, Alfredo.
Yes. I hope you need to talk about something more important than we did the last time.
Yes. No one died. No one, at least, told me that anyone died. I mean...
Rimpiattiti was as stupid as the look on his face promised.
Alfredo, there is something unpleasant I need to tell you.
The idiot looked so serious when he said these last words that even Alfredo was now worried and eagerly waited for whatever the man had to say.
You're fired.
SEVEN MONTHS EARLIER
3
The most terrible thing in the human condition is not being able to decide our own destiny. At the same time, I think I am not the only one with a gut feeling that someone else is making decisions for us,
Don Gaetano explained in detail his philosophy to Giuseppe Rimpiattiti, who couldn’t care less. But he had a debt to pay. He owed a considerable amount of money to the wise man and, in light of this, every word that came out of Don Gaetano’s mouth became, for pure business purposes, of vital importance.
Don Gaetano, I find your philosophy very interesting. But I still don’t understand what you want from me,
Giuseppe said.
You must fire Marino.
It was the most absurd and incomprehensible request he thought they could make to him. Giuseppe simply did not understand why. What had the poor devil done that a mafia boss would be so interested in him in such a negative way? Very often, it is not safe at all to ask why
to a man of power like Don Gaetano. For two reasons. First, you could irritate him – and you wouldn’t want to see him irritated. Second, and may be worse, he could tell you and you would be aware of something that you’d better have never been acquainted with. But, as we said, Rimpiattiti was not that smart after all.
Don Gaetano. If you say I must fire him, it will be done. But I need him. Plus, he has been with us for such a long time, he knows a lot about my company that you would not want anyone to know so much and not be in your control. Also, he has a family. How can I fire him without a reason? And most of all, why?
Giuseppe explained.
Don Gaetano’s bookcase had books of every kind and in at least four languages: history books, grammars of both modern and dead languages, mathematics treatises, and philosophy books. They were all in good order, and almost all had been read. When Don Gaetano sat at his desk and spoke to someone, he felt as if the knowledge found in those texts was supporting him and strengthening his words.
Giuseppe Rimpiattiti’s words and actions had a meaning only because of his bank account. Had someone else pronounced or done what he had said or done in his life, he would have been the least significant of human beings. Don Gaetano was not impressed by money, not even when he was poor. He knew Giuseppe was an idiot, but he had respected his father, God rest his soul, and so he replied simply and gently.
Nothing in particular, I just want you to do me this favor.
I will speak to my staff and see what I can do.
Don Gaetano had received final confirmation that the man was an idiot. To be honest, Rimpiattiti was more of a fish out of water than just stupid. His father had sent him out of Sicily to study. He graduated from the University of Milan, thanks to his father’s influence. When his father fell sick three years ago, Rimpiattiti had to take over the company. He had never been able to develop a true understanding of what Sicilians meant by respect
. Additionally, he had a problem understanding that when a man like Don Gaetano asked him something politely with a smile on his face, he had better not waste anyone’s time and just do it.
Don Gaetano changed the tone of his voice and expression on his face.
"Listen, I respected your father. He was an example for everyone,