M.S.R.P. II

He let out a yawn. Sitting in the passenger seat of the car, Jessica drove fourty-five on the broad avenue. The city of Truckee River was unfamiliar to him. To be frank, he had never been fond of the city, or the larger metropolitan area of Reno itself. In all honesty, he wasn't too fond of Las Vegas, either. He felt the cities were bright, and loud. Too much for his opinion. Though, while he had been away, Jessica and the family had decided it was in their best interest to move to the suburban city. He had been relayed through kites, that the area was booming economically and was a promising location for the family, and it didn't hurt that it cut the travel time to the prison in half.

"Almost there, sweetie," Jessica said softy, with a smile. God, how he had missed this woman. The way she smiled at him that made the hairs on his hands stick up; the way she smelt that drove him crazy; the way she wore her hair everytime they would go out, in the city. Luxuries that he couldn't enjoy while being away. Luxuries he had taken for granted. Being locked away for years can change a person's perspective around. He had done a few things to Jessica, that she knew about and that only he knew about, that hurt their relationship. At the time, he didn't care. Before he went to prison, he still didn't care. But when a woman can stick with you for close to three years, while you being away, and not faulter in her love for you then that is something. She wasn't some cheap broad you pick up every couple weeks, she was one of those special ones. The ones' where you take them out all dressed up to meet your parents. His parents adored Jessica. "We're here, are you excited?" she said with enthusiasm, it seemed as if she was more jubilant than he was; and, his other option had been prison.

"Of course, I am darling," he responded, leaning over the middle compartment, and gentling kissing her on her lips. "Let's go inside," he said softly, and she nodded with agreement. She turned the key switch over, shutting off the engine, and placed it in her purse. Stepping out of the car, his eyes focused in on the sign hung above the giant windows, which read, "Bonoventi's Italian Dining". All he could do was smile.

Hand in hand the two walked into the entrance hallway, he could feel Jessica's arm shaking causing his to do the same. The wide, swinging doors to the dining center were pushed open, and the couple walked in to a giant roar from the patrons inside. A surprise party. Oh how he hadn't seen this coming from his first day in the pen. Whistles and shouts of encouragement came full force from the crowd of people; navy blue, golden yellow, and bright red balloons covered the cieling to the point he couldn't tell the color of it; and claps came from each direction which created a state of nostalgia for him of the old days where he would watch the Dodgers play in Brooklyn. He couldn't pinpoint an approximate number in the gargantuan main hall. In the first row of tables, he spotted his mother and father, no doubt flown in from New Jersey earlier this morning. His father sat proudly, smiling at his son, as his mother gripped his hand tears streaming down her round cheeks. Allison, his older sister, sat with her husband, Charles [ Eboli ] and his twin brother, Carmine at one of the nearby tables. Rachael, another of his sisters, joked with her husband, also a good friend of his, Agostini [ di Pietra] as they waved at him. "The guy is in the pen for two years, and hasn' even bulked up, what's that all 'bout," came a loud, boisterous voice from behind him. He turned around and was met with a bear hug from his childhood friend and brother-in-law, Michael Bonoventi; of whom this restaurant belonged to. His youngest sister, Cassandra, was behind him with little Michael Jr. at her side. "It's so good to see you big brother," she said, leaning forward meeting his lean, as he planted a kiss on each of her cheeks. The size of the party was huge, the environment spectacular, as he made the rounds meeting with relatives, 'family', old friends, new acquantinces, and the like. A lone figure caught his eye. The man was standing near the back of the crowd of people, leaning against a far wall. Was that who he thought it was?

Bianco and himself had gone way back. They weren't like the kinds of best friends who play cop and robber dress up as youngsters. They weren't the kinds of best friends that communicate only on an irregular basis and who have these sappy reunions. The two of them, they had an ultimate understanding. Not only had they shared the perfect friendship, but they were very much the same people. Living in the world of La Cosa Nostra, only few can escape the monsters that are Fear and Death. Together, Bianco and Bonanno II had overcome many a foul foe, Fear and Death among them. They were heartless toward one another, and at the very same time, caring to the utmost. One cannot be drowned out by sole emotion in the game that these two men played. However, sometimes, even the internal rules of Omerta are meant to be broken. In Bianco's line of work, and with his position in that line of work, news spreads quickly, quickly enough even to resurface young Francesco.

Francesco tapped the face of his Rolex in anticipation. According to his sources, - sources that were payed good money to cooperate and be precise - Giacomo was to be released at approximately nine o'clock pm. He was given two hours to arrive at his destination. Those two hours were almost up. The assassin could not show his face in public for very long. Of course, he was in the company of childhood friends, but he had learned to never trust those that would befriend you. "Sir, would you like a drink? It will pass the time," came a female server from behind him. Her beauty was mundane when compared to dear Caprice's, but beauty all the same. He could not stop thinking about Caprice. No matter where he was, no matter what he was doing, her angelic face had managed to manipulate its way into his thoughts. "Please," he said, flashing a smile and bringing himself back into the world of the living. She handed him what was homemade whiskey. His family hadn't believed in anything that was consumable and not homemade. The first sip tasted like heaven.

The loud room erupted into even louder cheers as the familiar Giacomo Bianco stepped in, accompanied by burly brutes that were men of the finest physique. Underneath the concealment of the brim of his black hat, young Francesco flashed a grin. His features were nearly impossible to identify unless you knew him expressly. He watched as the surrounding crowd dissipated almost instantly and fluttered toward the new arrival. Francesco was certainly pleased. If any man deserved such a kingly respect, that man would certainly be Giacomo. As an assassin, he could not do much to liven the new generation of mobsters. As an assassin, he merely decreased their number. But Giacomo, Giacomo was an authority figure like his father, a hammer ruler with an iron fist. When Giacomo's eyes caught sight of him, Francesco flashed an even wider grin.

"Utmost salutations, dear friend, and welcome home," sincerely stated the second Bonanno. Oh, how happy he was to see Giacomo.

"Utmost salutations, dear friend, and welcome home," said his oldtime friend, Francesco. He was pleased with the appearance of the young hermit. He couldn't even call upon the last memory of the two being together. Despite his imprisonment, Giacomo had kept in contact with Junior. Or as close as contact as you can get from an imprisoned man in Nevada, to a recluse in the motherland.

Michael Scorscia and his younger brother, Zaccaria; approached the two gentlemen. Michael sat his giant hand on his shoulder, he felt weighted down by it. He was a tall man, standing probably half a foot taller than him, and weighed well-over sixty pounds his weight. "We've missed ya', buddy. Missed ya' 'lot," the older brother said calmly, as he patted Giacomo's right shoulder. His hand slipped into his pocket, and pulled out a white envelope, Giacomo immediately noticing the thickness of the envelope. "From me, and my brother. We know you will be on your feet in no time, but maybe this can help you get started quicker," he handed the money over to Giacomo, and gave him a side hug before making his way over to bar. Zaccaria lingered behind his brother, and nodded when his brother left, "It is good to see you man. Glad your back." He grinned wide, then went to mingle with associates.

The two men were alone once again. Giacomo pulled out a single, Marlboro Menthol cigarette and lit it up. Placing it to his lips, he took a long drag of it. Letting out wisps of smoke from his mouth. "I am utterly speechless," he said, then echoed himself, " ... speechless. I can't believe you are here." He paused, and took another drag of his cigarette. "I bet such a high-profiled face like you has got spooks chasing him all over," chuckled Giacomo.

Upon Michael's and Zaccaria's arrival, Francesco eyed them warily. In his line of work, he had learned not to trust strangers. In fact, the only one he did trust in this place was Giacomo, save for obvious exceptions like Giacomo's parents. Being a recluse for practically his entire life, he had learned also to be careful with whom he placed that trust. He could think of no logical reason to make these two his newest additions. However, they were tolerated because they were friends of his friend. Regret was something that Bonanno had not hoped for. "We've missed ya' buddy. Missed ya' a lot," stated the older brother of the two. There seemed to be some sincerity in his voice. Francesco had no opposing fact to believe differently. A small envelope was passed to Bianco, a rather thick one. It only took an assassin as dedicated as Bonanno to assume just what that thick envelope contained. "From me, and my brother. We know you will be on your feet in no time, but maybe this can help you get started quicker." The older brother made his leave at that point. "It is good to see you man. Glad you're back," said the younger one before following in Michael's footsteps.

"I am utterly speechless..." said Giacomo to Bonanno once the both of them were alone again. "...speechless. I can't believe you are here. I bet such a high-profiled face like you has got spooks chasing him all over." As accurate as his words probably were, the same could be said for the both of them. Having just been released from prison, the surveillance on Bianco would be only the strictest.

"Someone is always looking for someone else," retorted Bonanno with a reassuring smile. "Knowing where to look is the problem."