Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 248926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1245(@200wpm)___ 996(@250wpm)___ 830(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 248926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1245(@200wpm)___ 996(@250wpm)___ 830(@300wpm)
“Yes?”
I unbuttoned my shirt and slung it off.
Maxwell went to another bag. “Are there a bunch of naked Italian men running around the shore or something?”
David's face held a wicked smirk. “Let us not worry about that.”
“Sounds like a bunch of naked men to me.”
I gave my shirt to Wassily and went through my own bag.
Finding anything to fit me proved to be a challenge. Still, several lightweight, breathable t-shirts stuffed the bag, but most were too small. Many were made from polyester and nylon. A few were wool.
Then, there were tons of long-sleeved nylon shirts. The fishermen must have layered their clothing. One shirt was probably to keep them warm. The other possibly protected them from the sun.
Trusting the fishermen's choices, I found two shirts and put them on.
Louis walked around the alley completely naked. His cock swung from side to side like a pendulum. “Are there shoes too?”
“Eh, man!” Maxwell turned away from Louis. “No one told you to take your drawers off too.”
David gestured to another bag. “We have shoes over there, but I was not certain of everyone's size.”
“Lots of blue in here.” Maxwell dumped one bag onto the ground. “But, no black though?”
“A smart fisherman chooses the color based on the surroundings of the fishing spot. The sea is crystal blue so these are the shades we have to choose from.”
I undid my pants and checked to see what the French were doing.
Somehow Jean-Pierre had already changed and was now sharpening his famous violin bow.
I squinted my eyes to get a better look.
The bow's stick was dark brown and polished to a high sheen. I imagined the psycho sat over dead bodies every night, wiping the blood from the wood with a cloth. Surely, he had an erection when he did it.
A long, sharp blade made from tempered steel was where the bow's hair should have been. I'd heard many stories about how Jean-Pierre loved to play a song on his enemies' skin with the deadly bow.
With complete concentration, Jean-Pierre slid the blade back and forth across a rectangular block.
A second later, he caught me watching and raised the bow in the air. “Do you like it?”
“It makes more sense to bring a gun.”
“Oh, I will have guns.” Jean-Pierre twisted the bow to the side, showing me the blade's deadly edge. “But, this is a special occasion that calls for music.”
“Just make sure you kill many people.”
“I plan to.” He stared at the blade. “And they will all dance to my tune.”
Fucking psycho.
I looked to the side.
Giorgio stood by the wall, glowering and not making any move to get clothes.
I frowned. “Is there a problem, Butler?”
“Is the Brotherhood's budget not intact enough to get new clothes?”
“If you have a customer complaint be sure to write it down on a piece of paper and then stick it up your ass.”
Jean-Pierre eyed his cousin. “Giorgio, it will be fast.”
“Last time you made me wear smelly fabrics, I had a rash.”
“And you were well compensated.”
Mumbling, Giorgio walked over to a bag. “I better be doubly compensated this time. I do not have my decontaminating spray.”
Fucking idiot.
I put my attention back on the shirts and dressed.
David came over and handed me light blue nylon pants. “These should fit. They’re the biggest in the bag.”
From the back of the alley, Maxwell raised his voice. “I may need those pants, David. We already confirmed I have the biggest dick in the alley.”
“Are we sure about that?” Louis bent over, peering into one bag and exposing his bare ass to everyone. “We can get a ruler—”
“Man, if you don't put some clothes on.” Maxwell yanked out turquoise pants that had tons of pockets on them.
Then, the alley went silent as everyone finished dressing.
“These are the most important items—hats, gloves, and sunglasses.” Soon David came over to us with another bag. “They are worn for protection from the sun. However, we will be wearing them to further our disguises.”
I expected him to hand out coppolas. They were the traditional flat caps typically worn in Sicily and Calabria. Instead, David gave us light-weight hats with wide brims.
Next, he passed out different shaped black glasses and lots of blue fingerless gloves.
Giorgio waved David away. “I will wear my own gloves.”
“Suit yourself.” David walked. “Just make sure you look the part.”
Twenty minutes later, we loaded into the boats and journeyed out into the Tyrrhenian Sea.
In one boat, I sat with David, Maxwell, Giorgio, Jean-Pierre, and two of my main guards. Wassily climbed up to the top of the mast and served as lookout.
In the boat to our right, Harlem Crew rowed forward. Several played the part, holding their fishing poles. And after five minutes of rowing, one of them had actually caught a swordfish. Appearing like real fishermen, they celebrated and dragged it on board.
On my left was a boat filled with Boris, Louis, and several of my men.