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The Guarantor	By : Kanashii Category: S through Z > The Sopranos Views: 1326 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Sopranos, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Guarantor
- 1
HBO Owns the
Soprano’s not me, only the original character(s) are mine. This is part one of
an ongoing series on Furio Giunta and his stay in the US.

The Guarantor

   Tony Soprano sat
chewing the end of one of his expensive cigars, he had a meeting with another
New Jersey family and he was hoping things would work out for him, if so; it
would bring a lot of extra money for him in loan-sharking and swag. However the
two brugads, the Soprano’s and the
Bucchino’s had a lot of bad blood between them. This meeting was to be an olive
branch and peace offering, especially since things had begun to heat up with
Tony with the New York famiglias. To ensure that the meeting between the
Bucchino’s and the Soprano’s was not a ‘set up’ two guarantors had been assigned
to be held hostage by each family until after the meeting. That way if
something happened, some surprise attack, the guarantors would be killed. This
was not an uncommon practice, however it was more ‘old school’ and more of a
Sicilian than Neapolitan thing, something used much more in Italy than here in
the U.S, but Tony had listened to his Uncle Junior on this advice and demanded
the Bucchino’s provided a Guarantor. The Guarantors were always held in a
secret location, on the opposing Family’s territory until a call came from the
Boss to release the captive back to their own side.
   A few of Tony’s men
had delivered Sal ‘Big Pussy’ Bonpensiero
to the Bucchino’s side as their Guarantor, and now Tony was surprised as
Silvio marched in with a blindfolded attractive woman with her hands handcuffed
in front of her. Tony knew who she was, Corrina Bucchino the 25 year old
daughter of the Bucchino boss himself, Don Vincenzo Bucchino. This development
made Tony feel even more confident of himself, after all, what boss would risk
his own daughter’s life if he were not truly making an effort?
“Ok sweetheart.”
Silvio pushed her roughly onto a metal chair, “This is gonna be your hotel room
for awhile. You know the rules and why you are here.” He stood in front of her
even though she could not see him, his hands clasped loosely in front of him,
his usual dour face looking like a hang dog basset hound. “No takin’ off the
blindfold or causing trouble, got it? Hopefully things go smooth and you can go
back home quickly.”
Silvio glanced then
at Tony and also at Furio Giunta, the Soprano’s newest enforcer and hitman from
Naples. Furio had only been in the states a little over a month, so he was a
good one to keep in charge of the Guarantor. Both Tony and Silvio also knew
Furio would take no shit from her or have any qualms about doing her in if it
was indeed a set up. Better to let Furio handle these things than them.
Tony looked again at
the bound and blindfolded Corrina. He was impressed that she was showing no fear;
she was instead sitting quite straight, her breathing level normal and her
voice calm as she spoke softly and respectfully to Silvio, “I understand.”
Tony walked silently
up to the woman; she was gorgeous, long brunette hair, light olive complexion
that spoke of her southern Italian heritage, and a nice long lithe body with
long shapely legs, the kind that drove him nuts. Tony breathed a stream of his
smoke onto her as one of his hands came down and caressed her cheek. She felt
so smooth, so soft under his touch; he would have liked to have fucked her
right there and then. “I gotta pretty tough no-nonsense fella watching you.” He
said in a light tone, almost as if he was flirting with her, “You be a good
girl and behave for him, Ok?”
   Corrina fought everything
inside her not to flinch from the touch of Tony Soprano; she was fairly certain
that was who was touching her cheek so familiarly. She knew she must not show
them any fear, any emotion or they would feed on it like sharks. She just
nodded respectfully at his instructions. Thankfully Tony Soprano stopped
touching her and she heard several sets of feet moving against the cement
floor, some brief whispering amongst themselves and then the slam of a metal
door.
She strained her
ears listening for a moment, hoping they were indeed gone and was nearly
surprised when she suddenly heard someone speaking nearly right in her face.
She had not even heard him come up. “You be good girl, you no get a hurt.” She
could hear the sharp Italian accent in his voice and knew he was from Napoli
and that he was not very fluent in English. She could smell the faintest hint
of cologne on him, and wondered who this guard was that was standing over her.
Her mind began to swim a bit at conflicting thoughts.
“You father must
really be trusting to let his daughter be the mallevadore, eh?” the accented voice spoke smoothly again.
This time she replied
to her guard in fluent Italian with Sicilian dialect. “My father is very
respected by me, I trust him implicitly. If he says coming here will make an
impression on your Don Soprano, then that is a sacrifice I am more than willing
to make.”
She could hear her
guard walking around her now, as though studying her, when he next spoke; he
too spoke in Italian with his own sharp Neapolitan dialect. “You are Sicilian,
where you born there?”
“I was,” Corrina
answered slowly, “But came to the states when I was only 4, so I do not
remember much of the homeland. My father doesn’t speak very good English so I
am constantly speaking Italian at home with him and sometimes translating
written things for him. However, here in the U.S, men do not tolerate women
openly participating as much in ‘Our Thing’; the Mafia is different here in the
U.S. So instead I adapt and my brother often translates for him at meetings
with other famiglias, like today with
your Soprano’s.”
A short sharp
chuckle escaped from her guards lips. “Yes, that is true what you say. But I am
not from America, as you can tell.”
She heard him walk
away from her this time, sensed him leaving the space around her as he went off
to a chair and began dragging it over to her. “I’m not done speaking to you
yet. I want to know more about this whole thing about the Bucchino’s and the
Soprano’s.”
This time Corrina
did gulp and a tremor ran through her. She knew this fellow was from the Old
country, probably involved with the Camorran, which made him a dangerous man to
piss off. Normally the Guarantor would not even be discussing ‘sensitive
issues’ like this, but she dare not anger this guard, somehow she instinctively
knew he would not be gentle with her if she did.
“Is that fear I
sense now?” the accented voice spoke in a silky sound almost like an icy cold
garrote. “You don’t fear Tony Soprano, but yet you fear me.”
His words made an
even colder trickle of fear slide down her back, she could only nod briefly
afraid her voice would give away the fear and confusion she felt inside.
“Why you so fear me,
eh?” the voice demanded. “Tell me.”
She was about to
shake her head no, when she suddenly felt his hand touch her cheek the same way
Tony Soprano had done earlier. However when Tony had done it she knew it was a
lewd sexual overture, this man’s finger traced her cheek gently almost
soothingly and then traced down her jaw line and briefly his smooth but strong
hand closed around her throat. He did not squeeze or put any pressure on her,
but his strong fingers easily resting on her carotid arteries and jugular
veins. It was a brief move that spoke volumes of what he was capable of, but
the fingers then traced back up the other side of her face, soothingly again.
“I want to hear your story, Corrina.” He spoke still in Italian, “The Soprano’s
they don’t tell me very much, at least not yet. I have just recently come here
to America, so the only way I learn information is if I listen with my own
ears, pick it up myself.” He paused a moment, “It is the only way I have an
edge, a way of knowing what is going on, you understand? They want me to stay
stupid and uninformed, but I will not. The Soprano’s they really have no idea
the way things are done in the old-country.”
   His hand left her face and she was aware of
him sitting down in the chair in front of her. “Now we talk, you be good and
maybe I give you a glass of wine and some lunch, eh?” his smooth voice spoke.
   “On one condition,
you tell me your name.” She dared to speak her mind; if he was changing the
rules than she could also.
Corrina heard the
sharp intake of breath from him, could sense his anger even through her
blindfold as he cursed her out darkly in Italian.
“Stupido woman!” He growled in a low
voice as he cuffed her alongside her face. “You want me to kill you? Do you?!?”
   Now sheer terror
overrode her nerves, she could not help the tears that coursed down her face from
beneath the blindfold or the tremor in her muscles as she shivered in fear.
“N-no, please.” She half whimpered. “I’m sorry, I just…” she
clicked her mouth closed in mid-sentence not daring to piss off her guard any
further.
   “You what.” The man
said in a low tone. “You what?” he demanded again more angrily.
   “I just thought… I
had trusted you as a fellow Italian.” She knew it sounded lame, knew he was old
school and that made him in many ways far more dangerous than Tony Soprano or
his underboss Silvio Dante.
“Trusted me, eh?” he
half snorted. “Maybe I am not a man to trust. Maybe you no want to trust me.”
   She suddenly felt
his fingers by her head as he quickly snatched the blindfold away from her
eyes. Her fear escalated, this was highly irregular. He was showing himself to
her, and usually the Guarantors’ never saw their captors or guards. She blinked
in the lighting of the dingy apartment as she unconsciously looked at the man
in front of her. He was handsome, longish hair that was tied tightly back in a
neat pony-tail, his lean face shadowed by a no-nonsense and dark look, and eyes
that bore into her very soul like the stormy Mediterranean ocean. “Furio.” He
said with in an almost unnaturally calm voice, those eyes of his all business.
“My name is Furio.”
Corrina now truly
wondered if her bold tongue had just signed her own death sentence. All this
was highly irregular, now she knew what this Furio looked like. She felt her
guts churn in watery nausea and thought she was going to throw up.
  Furio got up off the chair and strode back and
forth. “You calm down, I not going to hurt you.” He said quietly but
succinctly. “I meant what I said earlier.” He stopped and glanced down at her.
“You know what they call us here?” he glared at her, “What these American
families call us true Italian’s?”
“Zips.” She barely
breathed the term she had heard her brother and father use. A derogatory slang
term for any Mafiosi from Italy.
“Yes, ‘zips’.”
Furio’s anger shown in his hard eyes, “They think so little of us here in
America. We true Italians’ who bought the whole ‘Thing of Ours’ to America and
they insult us.” Now Furio was leaning over her, his face mere inches from
hers. “I will not stay uninformed about what is going on with these Families
here in the States, Corrina. Knowledge is my only key at survival and success
here in America, you understand?”
   Corrina could smell
the faint scent of his cologne again; feel the heat of him as his face was
nearly touching hers eyeball to eyeball. Slowly she nodded as she glanced away
from him not daring to meet his bold gaze.
“Look at me, no look
away.” Furio spoke in English now and his hand turned her face back towards
him. “I asking you as a fellow Italian for you help, for you knowledge. You do
this for me, and I will make sure that your famiglia,
your father and brother is taken care of. I will give any information I can to
you that I hear about the Soprano’s; you in turn do the same for me.” Furio’s
other hand came up and again gently caressed her cheek, soothingly again, “You
not do this thing, then I have no choice but to beat shit out of you and
re-blindfold you. You understand?” this was said in a totally calm voice, not
cruelly but matter-of-factly.
   “Yes.” She dared to
breathe, dared to look at him. “I will help you.”
   “Yes, very good.”
He switched back to speaking in Italian as a genuine smile tugged at the
corners of his mouth and made his hard face appear much gentler. He backed off
from her. “Now I going to cook us some nice lunch serve some nice wine and you
are going to tell me much information.”
   Furio reached down
and guided her off the hard metal chair over to the small cramped kitchenette.
As he sat her down on the wooden chair, his hands lingered on her shoulders a
moment, gently caressing them. “I not want to be the bad guy with you. Is like
you said, we true Italians; we need to trust each other. I am honorable man, so
if I say I will not hurt you, and I will help your Family, then I will. Live up
to your father and padrone’s expectations
of you, Corrina. You are strong woman.” He patted her shoulder a moment and
then backed off to the stove to cook up some pasta for them.
They would indeed
talk over lunch and Corrina would begin the road of Furio’s knowledge and
information as she briefed him on everything from the various crews to the big
boys, like the Lupertazzi’s in New York. “There is a friend I can introduce you
to.” She said as she enjoyed the pasta he had served and the wine, “My brother
knows him, the man’s name is Enzo Garasi he is in New York, but he is an
illegal here as well. I think the Lupertazzi’s are looking to scoop him up, but
he is not interested. Talk to him, he might be a very loyal connection for you,
Furio.”
Furio listened and
absorbed every word she said, grateful for her information and trust of him.
His cell phone rang and he glanced down noticing it was Tony calling. “Yes?” he
answered.
   “Everything went
well, just as I expected. We’ll be there in about 20 minutes to exchange the
Guarantors.” Tony briefly said and hung up.
“Thank you,
Corrina.” Furio glanced at her. “Everything went good; they will be back in 20
minutes to take you back home. I will not forget that you have helped me, and I
will make contact with Enzo Garasi.” He stood up and quickly cleaned up the
dishes, “I must put blindfold back on you, and have you in the chair before
they get here.”
“I know.” She said
and handed him the blindfold. “Good luck to you Furio, I honestly mean it. I
hope you are successful here in America. Perhaps someday we will bump into one
another again.” she smiled pleasantly but respectfully at him.
“Oh, I quite certain
we will.” He gently fitted the blindfold back around her face and then made
sure it was comfortable around her, that none of her hair was caught in the
tight folds. One last time his hand came out and gently touched her cheek, a
sign of gratitude at her helping him. “I very certain we will.”

~Finito~

(This story is one of several I wrote that sort of details
on Furio’s time here in the states. Will it is not 100% cannon; I try to stay
fairly true to the characters and timelines. This is the first one; then comes
“Collections” and the series finally ends with “Mistaken Identities”.)
Ciao~ If you like my
stories or have any suggestions of what you would like me to write with Furio,
drop me a line and leave a review. Grazie!
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The Guarantor