Uncle Laine and his son listened intently.
Bart, reeking of alcohol, was already drowsy and nearly asleep.
Dean and Beck, the two brothers, were also present.
They bore the surname Lee, but Old Laine and his group had always regarded them as kin, so no one refuted Old Laine’s words at this moment, to avoid hurting the old man’s feelings.
Old Laine’s gaze swept across his second son Bart’s face with disappointment. He finally said in a grave tone, "Sixty years ago, we broke away from the Lucchese Family in New York and relocated here. But now, the Lucchese Family in New York, using the death of Harry Siri as a pretext, wants to gather all family members back in New York. As part of the family, I need you all to elect a suitable person to represent us and attend."
"Can’t we just not go?" Bart perked up, looking at his father with confusion.
Old Laine remained silent.
Laine, as the elder brother, shot Bart a glare. "What makes you think a bunch of outsiders like us could seize such a large piece of land from the local toughs here in Los Angeles? Without the backing of our main family, we would have been sunk to the icy depths of the sea, and you wouldn’t even have had the chance to be born!"
Bart lowered his head, grumbling, "You’re only a year older than me, acting as if you were already born back then."
Old Laine tapped his glass, interrupting the brothers’ conversation. He looked towards Laine’s son and the brothers Dean and Beck, then said, "Originally, I was planning for Laine to attend this gathering. But then I thought, we will all grow old, and the Fledgling Eagle must learn to face the storms at high altitudes. Dean, Beck, and Camo, for this gathering, I hope to choose one of you three to go."
Camo was Uncle Laine’s son. He was two years older than Beck and had married young; he even had two children now. Despite this, he had a youthful appearance, looking almost like a minor.
A Mafia Families’ gathering... A thought stirred in Dean’s mind.
He glanced at his elder brother Beck, who seemed quite interested, and at Camo, who appeared somewhat silent and reserved. Just as he was about to say something, Laine, their uncle, spoke first. "Dad," he said, "you know Camo’s personality. He’s simply not cut out for our line of work. Besides, times have changed. That glory is past; why should we try to go against the wheel of history?"
"Times have never changed!" Old Laine slammed the table, his aged face showing a trace of fierceness. "It used to be big fish eating little fish, and it’s the same now; only the method has changed. If we don’t make a change, when all of us old folks are gone, what will Camo use to protect this farm?"
Less than fifty years had passed since the era of the Mafia.
The splendor was no more, yet its lingering influence had taken on a new form and grown stronger.
The main reason was that they had used brutal means to gain everything they now possessed. Without the deterrence of their force and the protection from the main family, retaliation from the deeply-entrenched Los Angeles Farmers’ Union was highly probable.
During the silence, Dean finally found an opportunity. Tapping on the table, he asked, "Grandpa, when is the meeting going to be held?"
His older brother Beck was a carefree brute. His cousin Camo was quiet and seemed like an honest, straightforward type. Neither of them was suitable to attend this kind of family gathering, especially one for Mafia Families that might involve integrating interests.
At the same time, Dean had an idea, perhaps a bit unformed. This ’family’ gathering could be a good opportunity to broaden his connections.
Old Laine gazed at Dean for a while. Seeing his composure, he nodded with satisfaction. "It’s probably going to be around January or February of next year," he said. "The time isn’t fixed yet, but it’s certain that all branches of the Lucchese Family will participate, including the people from our ancestral land."
Upon hearing this, Laine was startled. "Dad," he asked, "are the people from our ancestral land coming too?"
The Lucchese Family originated in Sicily and rose to prominence over sixty years ago. Later, due to decline, it dispersed across the United States, Europe, and their ancestral lands, forming smaller families. This was a transition many powerful groups experienced. But this move by the New York Lucchese Family suggested they were planning something big.
"What does the ancestral land matter? In today’s society, it’s all about interests. Alright, you should all get some rest. Dean, come with me."
Old Laine rose with a touch of wistfulness, adjusted the picture frame on the wall behind him—a portrait of his father—a flicker of reminiscence in his eyes. That was his father, a man with a glorious past.
In the future, his photo would also hang here.
After Laine and the others had left, Old Laine took out a pipe, matches, and tobacco from his pocket. He lit the pipe, took a deep drag, exhaled a smoke ring, and savored it.
Dean watched the old man’s deliberate actions, waiting quietly.
About ten minutes later, Old Laine waved Dean over and pulled out a pre-written check. "Dean, I didn’t expect you to follow your father’s path. But fortunately, you’ve shed your former impulsiveness and have matured a lot."
Dean looked at the check before him, written out for a full $3,000,000, and asked, puzzled, "What’s this?"
"Your starting capital," Old Laine said, blowing out another smoke ring, his expression somewhat melancholic. "Your Uncle Laine and cousin Camo’s upbringing has destined them to be nothing more than ruthless farm owners, unable to achieve greater things.
"As for your Uncle Bart... I just hope he won’t end up freeloading in the future."