“Conversation’s right,” Vinnie said. “I got a receipt here. Dated. Signed by you. Says ‘Watercraft vessel, guaranteed seaworthy, seven hundred dollars.’ The rowboat sank, Carmine. Sank in the pond in Juniper Park. With my new fishing hat on it.”

“What’s this?” Carmine asked, his voice quieter.

Slowly, Carmine reached into his jacket. Mauricio flinched. But Carmine only pulled out a thick roll of cash, peeled off nine hundred dollars, and slapped it into Vinnie’s palm.

Just then, the back door creaked. Carmine “The Lips” Scalise—so named for his habit of licking his lips before every lie—filled the doorway. He was a mountain of a man in a shiny suit, accompanied by two smaller mountains named Rocco and Joey.

He patted his pocket. “Now let’s go get my fishing hat. It floats.”

“Vinnie,” he gasped. “I thought we were dead.”

“You got balls, glasses,” Carmine said. “I’ll give you that.”

“Vinnie. Mauricio.” Carmine smiled, licked his lips. “I hear you boys wanna have a conversation.”