City of Dreams

by Don Winslow

Kevin Coombs is not impressed with Ronnie Faella and Angelo Petrelli. It took him two days, but he tracked them down to a bakery in Westlake Village where they usually meet for a late breakfast. “Guess what they were eating,” he says to Sean. “Do I have to?” “Croissants,” Kevin says with disgust. “The fuck kind of mob guys eat croissants?” “What do you want them to eat?” “Bacon and eggs,” Kevin says. “Mob guys eat bacon and eggs, okay, maybe sausage, the Italians. But croissants? Sean, come on. And you know what they were wearing? Pastel polo shirts.” “So what?” Kevin shakes his head. “Mob guys wear black. Captains and above, black suits. Below, black leather jackets.” “It’s ninety degrees out.” “Doesn’t matter,” Kevin says. “There are standards. And the next morning, my hand to freakin’ God, one gets oatmeal, with berries, the other? Yogurt. A so-called boss. Yogurt. How are we supposed to take these guys seriously?”