Pest Control

The distant sound of thunder entered the restaurant as he opened the door. He walked up to the hostess stand, his coat wet from the rain.

“Frank Colletti,” he said. “I’m here to see Vinny.”

“Right this way, Mr. Colletti,” the hostess replied. She grabbed a menu and led him to a reserved room. The restaurant’s usual ambience was faded, tables were leaving, and the staff was getting ready to close.

The private party room was completely empty with the exception of one long table, which was set for two. The crystal chandelier above could light up the whole room, but the only light was coming from the candelabra in the corner of the room. A vase of white roses acted as a centerpiece, matching the white tablecloth laid so perfectly. No wrinkles, no creases, and no part of the tablecloth touched the floor. Frank didn’t like sitting with his back to the front door, so he sat down on the far end of the room.

Vinny came out of the kitchen door behind Frank with two glasses of red wine. He set the glasses down and then came up to Frank, his arms open for embrace.

“How long has it been?” Vinny asked. They pulled away from each other in perfect synchronicity.

“Way too long.”

“How’s the family? They likin’ Jersey?”

“Lovin’ it. I needed to get away from the noise, Vin. The schools are better, the nights are more peaceful, and I can finally walk around without anyone lookin’ at me funny.”

“Nowadays it seems more and more of my guys are tryna copy you, Cheech. You must be doing something right.” His eyes rose to meet Frank’s gaze through the flowers.

“No one’s called me Cheech since my mom died.” Vinny knew that his mother was the only one to call him that. “The roses are a nice touch. I remember how much our mothers liked roses.”

“Just thinking about back when we were kids. How we used to get yelled at for being home late and fix it all when we showed them the flowers.” Vinny laughed. Sometimes, he laughed from his belly in such a way that it became impossible not to laugh with him. This was one of those times. They both finished laughing just in time for the kitchen door to swing open for the waiter, notepad in hand.

The waiter came up to the table and took their dinner orders. Frank admired the way Vinnie had his staff dress. The waiter’s black necktie was tied in a double Windsor, pulled up to the top button of his white dress shirt. After he took their orders, he stuck his notepad into the left pocket of his black apron. His shirt had a small red stain on it from what could only be presumed to be wine.

“I like the way you dress your guys, Vin. There’s a certain class about this place that most others don’t got anymore.”

“Sometimes clingin’ to the old ways ain’t too bad. You know how it used to be.”

The kitchen door swung open, and the waiter emerged with their dinner. He served Vinny first, even though Frank was closest to the kitchen door.

Vinny reached for his fork, accidentally tipping over his glass of wine. The red stain grew as the wine traveled across the table towards the center. By the time the glass was picked back up, the wine reached halfway to the roses.

“What a glorious waste of good Cabernet,” Vinny lamented. He called the waiter back in. The waiter cleaned up the wine and brought out a new glass. This time, his apron was spotless.

Frank ordered an eight-ounce filet, which came with a side of steamed vegetables. As he cut into his steak, the juice oozed throughout the dish, spilling over into the side along with the au jus sauce that came on top. He liked his steak cooked medium rare.

“I gotta say, this is some good food. Sometimes I forget how much you like to cook.”

“You say that like I made this myself.”

“You think I don’t know you well enough that you’ve watched your chef make this a thousand times, correcting him every step of the way?”

“I like things done my way; you know that.”

“All too well.” They both shared a chuckle.

The small talk continued throughout dinner. The clock hand spun faster and faster as they talked about their businesses, families, whatever they felt like. When they ran out of small talk, they decided it was time to dive deeper. Vinny took the first leap.

“You know, Frank, I gotta confess somethin’ to ya. You can’t find good people like you used to. Every day it seems like I’m runnin’ into a new problem with the family business. Someone’s either sharin’ secrets or movin’ off to God-knows-where once they think they made it big.”

“You ever thought about going legit? This restaurant is doing pretty well, why not just lay the family business to rest?”

“You remember that trip to Italy when we were kids? How clear the water was?”

“All I remember is our dads talkin’ business while they sent their wives and kids to do whatever.”

“Every time I go back on that memory, I think more and more about the architecture. I keep thinking about that day in Florence. The art, the arches. Hell, even the way they laid their bricks was somethin’ completely different. That’s the kinda stuff we don’t pay attention to as kids, but as we get older, I think we can appreciate the little things more.”

“Why are you tellin’ me this now?”

“I’m just making sure you don’t forget where you came from.” The kitchen door swung open, and the waiter entered, dessert in hand.

The waiter let the plate rest on the table in front of Frank. A chocolate lava cake meant for one, topped with whipped cream and a cherry, all resting atop a chocolate drizzle. He cut into it with his fork,

penetrating the skin and letting the insides bleed into the rest of the plate. He paired it with a sliver of whipped cream he peeled off the top.

“How is the family business? The diamond job seems like forever ago, now.”

“I’m sure you know, but there’s been some trouble recently with the Feds. I was telling you earlier about rats, but I think we got one real high up, Cheech.”

“What’re you talkin’ about, you think one of your old crew is snitchin’ on ya?”

“I’ve got reason to believe.”

“You sound crazy, Vinny. Every one of us has been together since we were boys. What proof do you have?” Frank cleared his throat. The roof of his mouth started to dry, making it harder to eat the cake. “Can I get some more water?” he asked the waiter.

“I’ve got my own spies on the inside. They tell me all I need to know.”

“Well how are you gonna handle this Vin?”

“I’ve already made the arrangements. I’d rather not trouble you with the details.”

“So you think you know who it is?” His face ran red. Frank’s face had always been redder than usual, but it was still noticeable when he blushed.

“No, I know who it is.” Vinny looked down at the cake, which was now halfway finished. “You know, this is perfect opportunity to demonstrate how useful the old ways can be.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, don’t you remember whenever we got a rat in the house? How our dads used to get rid of ‘em?”

Frank broke into a heavy sweat. His breathing deepened until he descended into full hyperventilation. “Poison,” he said, looking down at the chocolate cake.

Vinny laughed all the way from his belly. But this time, Frank didn’t laugh with him.

“I guess you were always too young to remember, huh Cheech?”

“Why? What did they do?”

“They never poisoned the rats.” He adjusted himself in his chair. “Rats weren’t worth that kinda money. They’d just shoot ‘em.” Vinny gave a nod to the waiter, sitting idle by the kitchen door.

Frank whipped his head around to find nothing but a glass of water in the waiter’s hand. It was when he turned back around to face his cousin that he realized Vinny was the one with the gun drawn. Two quick flashes of light struck the room and the vase of flowers shattered, letting the roses fall onto the table. As his head collapsed into his dessert plate, his entire world closing in, the last thing Frank saw was the white roses lying on the table, stained red.