[This post is actually a couple of days late...but it feels good to be back! Hope everyone has been fine
]
[Posted as Roscoe Wallace]
I showed up nearly an hour after the arranged meeting time. The boss was right- it wasn't hard to find the weaselly little cracker, and he didn't seem to be able to maintain his professionalism. Don Tommasi always believed that anger clouded one's ability to rationalize; Mr. Panucci proved the point exactly. The entire night he gave into his immature nature, throwing sublet insults my way the entire night. Now, had Tommasi not briefed me before meeting this mealy-mouthed SOB, nigga woulda had to pop a couple of caps in his ass just for the goofy little smirk he seemed to have permanently affixed to his face.
But just like the boss said, handling an annoyed Panucci was definitely to my...to our advantage. I didn't have to say a word- the moron laid out all the details: claimed he had a hold on the action out in Vegas, and with Diego Farina possibly putting up one of his own casinos here in the East up for bidding, Panucci was willing to give up his mother if need be. It's not so much the financial implications that the Don sent me to meet him- it was the confirmation that Panucci did in fact have something working behind that small cranium of his, which hinted at being a hostile take over of the Western Empire Tommasi was continuing to build. The back copy of The Times with the reported death of Alfonso Tommasi was a genius last touch by the Don- Panucci's mouth split open so far, you could've fit a Volvo in it.
But back to the details...Panucci wanted to front me as himself to bid for Farina's Atlantic City prize. It's a sweet setup- basically I'll be using Panucci's own money to buy it for him, and in exchange i make seventy cents on the dollar coming in henceforth. Not bad for a street hood making his name slinging dope to the streets. The best part is Panucci's doing the Don a favor without even knowing it.
Which motherfucker was it that said crime didn't pay? Silly bastard...
