Chapter Text
[Pre Mission]
Sam feels elated, which is not an emotion he’s well acquainted with, which maybe should’ve been the first red flag in what would soon become a sea of red.
The Don had asked to see him, to speak with him, just him. Which, for a split moment, does make him feel anxious.
At first, he thinks maybe the Don had found out that he had wrecked another car. Or that he had bribed a police officer to turn the other cheek when Paulie had gotten into a street fight with someone that looked at him the wrong way. Or God forbid, that the Don had found out about Michelle— no, worse, found out that he had instructed Tommy to spare Michelle.
Though the anxiety is quickly overridden when he walks into the Don’s office, and shuts the door behind him, to in turn be greeted with a room that just has the Don in it.
Sam looks around anyway, quickly scanning the room, while maintaining an equidistant point between the Don and the door. Sam slips on his mask of confidence and self-assuredness, and he pulls the cigarette case from his pocket. He taps the bottom of the carton and spills a smoke into his hand. “You wanted to see me, boss?” He asks, cool and collected, barely concealing the tremor in his hand as he brings the cigarette to his lips.
“Sit down, Sam.” the Don instructs, leaning back in his chair and tilting his head toward the chair in front of his desk.
Sam knows the Don, all his body language, all his tells, and this is reading uncertainty. Which is something Sam has only seen once before in the Don. Sam takes a few solid steps toward the chair and then pulls it back. He doesn’t take his eyes off the Don, not in a display of dominance, rather in a show of making him seem confident. He still has to convince himself he belongs here, that he belongs to confer with the Don.
“Let me ask you something, son.” The Don starts, he brings a cigar to his lips and leans forward on his elbow. Sam stays silent, giving unspoken permission to the Don to continue speaking.
“Now since Marcu is gone,” the Don takes a drag of his cigar, and if Sam notices his eyes linger on the picture frame on the corner of his desk for just a moment, he won’t mention it.
The Don puffs the smoke from his mouth and then continues, “Now that Marcu is gone, what’s the one racket we haven’t expanded in? The one place where we don’t have our asses covered? The one place where you can walk down the street and Salieri’s doesn’t cross your mind.”
Sam takes a moment, thinks honestly, “The only thing we don’t do in the city, the only thing we don’t run, is the drug angle. But makes sense, don’t it? You said—“
“I know what I said, but things change, Sam.” The Don quickly cuts him off, anger rising in his tone before he sits back in his chair and takes a breath, “Things change.”
Sam stays silent, watching as the Don puts himself back together before any of the frayed ends start to show.
“Think about it, kid. The money we could be makin’. Our biggest racket was booze, while it was illegal. Now it’s legal, there’s not money to be made in it. Think about it, Sam. Think. We could be sittin’ on a gold mine. We could be wastin’ time. Wastin’ potential. Where do we go from here?
We’re the top Family. We run this city. But if we don’t cover our tracks, if we don’t cover our bases, if we leave this one open racket.. what do you think’s gonna happen, Sam?”
Sam takes a drag of his cigarette, “What d’ ya suggest, boss?”
“Sam, you’re like a son to me.” The Don looks at Sam through his eyelashes. The statement hangs heavy in the air. Sam’s silence even heavier.
‘You’re like a son to me.’
There’s been many nights where Sam’s thought of this, thought of mattering enough to the Don to become his right-hand, especially after Frank betrayed the Family. But Sam was never one to indulge in fantasy. Never one to convince himself he could be this important. Even after he rose to Caporegime.. he only rose with Tommy, not on his own accord.
But to be considered the Don’s son.. Never in Sam’s wildest dreams did he entertain the idea. Never in Sam’s wildest dreams did he think himself to be so important to anyone.
“You know between Sarah and Alice..” After saying her name, the Don does a quick Sign of the Cross over his chest. His compassion for the girl he believes he murdered would seem out of place to anyone else, but to Sam, he knows the Don to be regretful of what he had to do. If nothing else, Sam believes Salieri killing Frank and his family after Frank betrayed him was the ultimate display of strength and leadership.
“Between those two, I had more than enough goddaughters. But I’ve never had a son. You coming in here, just a kid yourself, asking to join our Family, promising you can earn your keep.. You’re the closest I’ve ever come to a son, kid. I watched you grow up. Taught you all you know. I made you all that you are today.”
There’s a time where Sam would’ve killed to hear these words. Hell, maybe there is a time Sam’s killed in hopes of hearing the Don’s unsung praises like this. Maybe, every time he’s killed, he’s hoped to be rewarded like this.
“Thanks, boss. I appreciate it. The Family is the only family I’ve got. I’ve ever had.” Sam answers, reaching across the table and dabbing his cigarette out in the tray.
“That’s right, Sam. Important to remember, too. This Family is the only family you’ve got. And you need to do what’s best to protect it. And sometimes that’s making hard decisions. You know that. You’ve seen that. You know the sacrifices I’ve had to make for the sake of this Family.” The Don leans back in his chair and he watches Sam.
And Sam feels he’s being watched. Knows he’s being studied. But this is something he’s practiced for. Something he knows how to do. He schools his face into a carefully blank expression and looks back at the Don. He mirrors the way the Don is sitting, leaning back in his own chair.
“What’s the plan?”
A slow and sly smile tugs at the corner of the Don’s lips, “I knew I could count on you, Sam. You know, Frank, he never could see the potential in you. The leader you could be. Said you lacked direction or some shit. But I could see it, Sam. I have always believed in you. I always knew you could be right here. At my side. I guess that’s why you’re here and he’s in the ground, huh?”
The Don laughs, loud and robust, and Sam joins him, even though he doesn’t think the joke landed quite right. There’s a wave of uneasiness that washes over Sam. Maybe as a result of the joke landing flat, maybe as his body’s way of telling him he’s missing more red flags, but Sam shrugs it off and opens his hands like he’s welcoming the joke, and then the Don is lighting his cigar one more time.
“Let’s talk business then, son.”
—
[Post Mission]
The whole ride back from the harbor, Sam’s anxiety was such that he felt he was basically shaking from his skin already. Not because of the fire fight, no— that’s routine for them. But for the sheer fact that there’s no coming back from this. Once they make it to the meeting spot, once the Don takes this shipment from them.. they’re officially in the dope business.
And it’s all Sam could think about, after Paulie’s jest about robbing that bank, about wanting more, wanting out. How Tommy shot him down but didn’t disagree with him. How Sam knew that had this plan gone sideways in any sort of way, all of their lives would be over and no one could save them.
It’s all Sam could do— think. And he wish to God he could stop.
When they make it to their meeting place, the first thing Tommy does is check on Paulie. Ensure he’s alright, crates of cigars be damned. Paulie pushes the crates out of the way, ensures he’s okay, suggests they take a look at the merchandise, to see what they had just risked their lives for.
At this, Sam’s anxiety intensifies. He feels like he could hear his heartbeat thrum in his ears. He watches as Tommy rummages through the crate and Sam can’t watch, has to look away, has to steel his voice as he’s trying to sound concerned, trying to act as if he’s worried about the cigars, as if he doesn’t know what’s in these boxes.
Sam turns his head back to the truck just in time to see Tommy pull the packet of dope from the crate and he feels sick. He doesn’t have to pretend anymore.
“What… The Hell..” Tommy holds the dope in his hands and Sam is just thankful he never unwrapped it. It’s one thing to talk about this with the Don, it’s another to hold it in your hands and see it with your own two eyes.
“Christ.. It’s dope.” Sam answers Tommy. His eyebrows drawn together and his voice shaking. He looks over to Paulie and Paulie is staring at the brick in Tommy’s hand in full disbelief.
“You sure?” he asks Sam, and when Paulie meets his eyes, Sam has to look away.
“Yeah. I’m sure.” Sam answers him. Sam looks back at Paulie just in time to see him start to frantically search through the crate himself. “Where’s the diamonds?” he asks, and Sam turns away again, walks away from the truck altogether.
He turns his back to Paulie and Tommy, and he listens to Tommy’s anger rise and Paulie’s disbelief color his voice. He puts his hands on his hips and hangs his head. He takes a deep breath and slowly turns back to them, hands still on his hips, and watches as Paulie looks through another crate.
The sickness washes over him again, and something like visceral pity fills his chest and rattles around his ribcage.
“We put our fuckin’ necks out on the line for this shit?” Paulie spits out the phrase. His beautiful hazel eyes filled to the brim with angry tears, the pure disbelief drips like venom from every syllable and Sam nearly reaches out for him. And the thought, that he’d never be able to comfort Paulie again after this crosses his mind, lingers in the recesses. Makes his skin prick with unease.
Tommy doesn’t say anything, so Paulie looks to Sam. And all Sam can say is, “Looks like it.” And it feels so grossly inadequate for what this situation is. Grossly negligent. Just… Gross.
Sam wants to say more. He still debates on stepping closer. But Tommy speaks, “You better cool off, Paulie. The Don’s comin’.”
Sam nearly jumps as the headlights illuminate the night. He swallows down this sickness, this cacophony of disgusting feelings swirling through his nervous system. He closes his eyes for a moment and then he’s immediately making strides over to the truck, for the first time since Tommy’s made the discovery.
Sam is immediately beginning damage control. He can watch Tommy and Paulie fall apart, sure. But he cannot let the Don see that he’s letting Tommy and Paulie fall apart.
He watches to ensure Tommy carefully wraps the dope back up and places it back into the crate. He tells the boys not to say a word about this to the Don. Tells them that if he wanted them to know, he would’ve told them.
Tommy spits out that he should’ve come clean. And Sam agrees with him, even though Sam’s known all along. He once again lets it be known they need to keep their traps shut about this. That they shouldn’t mention a word to the Don. He lets his look longer on Paulie, and Sam is silently hoping Paulie doesn’t blow this for them. For him.
Salieri gets out of the car, nearly rushes over to the three of them, two new boys that Sam’s never even seen following him. As Salieri nears them, the anger is palpable. The air is thick with tension. And Sam is sure anyone could feel it.
“Any problems, boys?” he asks, and Tommy immediately slips into his role of cool and collected as he tells the Don that a few crates got banged up, but nothing extreme.
And Sam affirms his statement, “Might’ve lost a few cigars, but otherwise the merchandise should be okay, boss.” The Don looks over to Sam and they share a look, and the Don nods, and Sam is swallowing down the bile as it rises in his throat.
“‘Sides, ain't diamonds supposed to be the hardest thing around?” Paulie adds, and Sam looks at him in pure alarm before he works to get the face under control. The Don looks at Paulie and the look is weighted. Heavy. Tense. Sam sways on his feet for a moment.
One of the kids the Don brought along makes a joke that doesn’t quite land, shows pure immaturity, shows the boys can’t read the room yet, shows they aren’t ready. These are the kinds of fools Frank would’ve hated. Sam remembers how Frank had trained Paulie out of making jokes like this. How Frank ensured they knew they represented the Don everywhere they went. Sam wonders who, if anyone, will teach it to these boys.
Regardless, it breaks the Don’s stare on Paulie. And the Don speaks again, “Well, bravo boys. Bravo. You all got a well-deserved bonus coming your way.” And again, he looks to Sam. And again, Sam accidentally holds the gaze, and again, Sam is the first to look away, and again, Sam is swallowing down thick, hot, bile as it bubbles in his throat.
Tommy asks if they should unload the crates, and the Don insists the other two men will do it, that Tommy and Paulie are free to go. Paulie asks if he’s sure, a sunken and sullen expression on his face. And when the Don turns to look back at Paulie, he only wears anger on his, “What’d I say?” he asks Paulie, and Paulie, unlike Sam, doesn’t look away as the Don holds his gaze.
Sam is silently praying for Paulie to let this go. And maybe Paulie hears his prayers, because finally, he turns to look at Sam when he says “Okay. We’ll dangle.” And he keeps his eyes on Sam the whole time he’s getting out of the back of the truck.
“Sam, give me a lift back to the bar.” Salieri says, turning away from the truck. And with Paulie’s heavy eyes on him already, Sam feels as though the Don had just thrown a bottle of gin into a raging fire. But Sam isn’t Paulie. He doesn’t question or disobey the Don.
“Sure thing, boss.” He answers, and as he turns to walk toward the car, he pushes one of the new guys out of the way, and he can feel Paulie’s eyes on his back the whole time he walks away. Sam opens the door for the Don and takes another small breath before turning back to Paulie and Tommy, “You guys comin’?”
Tommy declines, says that he and Paulie will take the train, and Sam is praying no one sees him heave a sigh of relief. “Okay. See you later.”
Sam lets his look linger on Tommy, then Paulie, before he turns to step into the car. And even Sam can’t deny that red is filling his vision; not just anger, but the preverbal red flags.
“What do they know?” The Don asks first, settling into the passenger seat. Sam runs the palms over his hands over the steering wheel and then pulls it as he begins to drive. He’s silent now, and the Don’s eyes look right through him.
“Sam.” the Don repeats, “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“They know all of it, boss.” Sam answers, slipping a cool and calm tone over his voice, even though he feels anything like it. “We almost died.”
“Eh,” Salieri waves his hand, “Not so different then any other time, huh?”
Sam cuts his eyes toward Salieri for a moment but he doesn’t say anything. “Tommy opened up a crate, just to see what we had put our necks out for.. Saw the dope.. I ain’t ever seen Tommy so angry. And Paulie, Christ..”
“Paulie is long past his prime anyway. He’s a good businessman, sure. He’s got friends, connections, but he doesn’t have a future here. Doesn’t have the vision you have, Sam. And Tom, once this money rolls in, once he’s giving his little girl a piece of the good life, he’ll get off his moral high horse.” Salieri chuckles and turns to watch out the window.
“I got a couple of the boys peddlin’ this shit already. They’re taking it straight to a few neighborhoods over, whole-selling it to some small-time men over there. We’re keeping our hands clean of it. Buying some time before our name becomes associated with it. Hopefully by then Tom will come around.”
Sam disagrees. He knows Tommy. Tom isn’t going to come around. He’s going to agree to Paulie’s insane idea of robbing that bank. He’s going to do something he doesn’t quite know how to get out of. He’s going to put Sam in between a rock and a hard place.
Sam stays silent, bites the inside of his cheek, as he drives the car through the night. When they reach the bar, and Sam stops the car, the Don turns over to him, and pats his shoulder. “You did good tonight, kid. Made me proud. I put a lot on your shoulders, an’ you saw it through. Like a true Consigliere.”
Consigliere.
Sam knows the shock is on his face. And when the Don laughs, Sam can’t help but let a small, tentative, smile spread across his face. “Consigliere?” he repeats, the word just as tentative as his smile was. Almost as though he’s scared that he misunderstood and has made a fool of himself.
The Don laughs again, “Well, almost, anyway.”
The smile slips from Sam’s face, “Almost?”
“Are you an echo or something, Sam?” The Don opens his door, “You’ll be in charge of this racket. And as our top earner, as our most important asset, you’d be my right-hand, my Consigliere. Without you, our Family would fall apart. But that’s not a title I can just give you, Sam. You have to earn it.
Show me you can do this. Show me you can command others. Most importantly, you can command Tommy and Paulie, keep them in check, and this position will be yours.” The Don steps out of the car and smooths the front of his suit. “You wouldn’t disappoint me in this, would you, Sam?”
“No, boss. Never.” Sam answers, and he watches as the Don closes the door behind him.
“I’m counting on you for this, Sam.” The Don repeats. And Sam holds his gaze, nods his head, “I won’t let you down, boss.” Sam answers. “Promise.”
“I know you won’t. Catch some sleep, Sam. By this time tomorrow, we’re gonna be a whole lot richer. I’ll fill you in on my talk with the mayor too. We’re gonna be runnin’ this town, Sam. There’s going to be nowhere in this town you could turn without knowin’ who’s pullin’ the strings ‘round here.”
The Don smiles, then pats the side of the car as he steps away, letting Sam know he’s free to drive away. And so Sam does. Just as he’s told.
He drives to the back, parks the car in the garage, gets into his own car, and begins to drive back to his place. He drives in silence. He doesn’t turn on the radio, instead choosing to crack the window and listen to the steady sounds of the city sleeping around him as he lets his thoughts run away.
Had Sam ever truly wanted this? Had he wanted the power, money, fame of being consigliere?
Sam had wanted recognition and acceptance. Sam had wanted a family, to be part of this Family. Sam had wanted brothers, people who would die for him, people who would kill for him. He had wanted with all the sick devotion of a hungry dog. And he had feasted on table scraps until he was big enough to sit at the table himself.
Only now, he finds himself to be the only one sitting at this table. No brothers. No devotion. No Family. Half of the men that Salieri had brought into the Family since Morello had died were just kids. Immature and looking for a quick buck. They didn’t understand the life, the Family. Sam couldn’t trust them as far as he could throw them. Sam wouldn’t trust them.
Sam finds himself thinking a lot about the old days. About when he had joined. About Frank. About Vinnie. About Luigi. About small time missions. About watching Paulie turn into a soldato from a street kid. About watching Paulie turn down the offer to be a Caporegime when Sam and Tommy were promoted, citing he didn’t want the responsibility.
Sam can almost feel himself laugh when he remembers how pissed he was to see Tommy climb the ranks so fast, when it had taken him nearly 10 years to become a Capo himself.
At first, Sam would always roll his eyes when he heard Paulie reminiscing about the old days. But now that he’s thinking about them.. Sam feels almost sick with longing. He didn’t want to run this family. He just wanted to be a part of it. Maybe Frank was right after all, maybe Sam couldn’t be a leader. Maybe he didn’t have the direction.
Without Paulie, without Tommy, by his side.. Who did he have? Without brothers, who, and what, was he doing this for?
Sam isn’t stupid. Not by a long shot. He knows Paulie and Tommy are going to go through with this bank job. He knows if they’re successful, they’re not going to cut the Don in— they’re gonna skip town.
Sam won’t ever see them again. If he’s lucky, he won’t ever hear from them again. After all, Michelle had managed to skip town, didn’t she? She had managed to go somewhere the Don couldn’t find her. Maybe Paulie and Tommy could too?
Tommy and Sarah could live a quiet life. With their little girl and their baby boy. They could stay out of trouble. Paulie, maybe not, but Tommy would do all he could to ensure he’d try. Sam knows they’d look out for each other, like brothers.
Sam can’t think about it anymore. He doesn’t want to be too guilty when inevitably the Don asks him what he knew about this plan. Sam tried to blank his mind of it altogether. Of the men who used to be his brothers. Who used to be the most important part of this Family to him.
On his way back to his apartment, he catches every single red light. And every time, the red fills the whole cab of his car, washes over his face, fills his vision. And that night, all Sam can dream about is red.