She grabbed two beers out of the fridge and handed him one.
“It means I don't know what the hell is going on with him.” The frustration in his voice came out harsher than he intended.
His mother remained quiet because Jio sometimes didn’t care to hear her two cents.
“He talking in riddles. I can’t figure him out right now,” he admitted.
“He always has.”
“Nah… not like this.” Jio rubbed a hand over his beard. It was as if he was plotting on something but he didn’t know what.
“One minute he's telling me to stay focused on business. The next minute he's asking questions that don't make sense.”
His mother's face remained unreadable. “Questions about what?”
“Niggas… but mainly the past. Old shit that don’t have nothing to do with me or him.”
She chuckled. “He not about to snitch, is he?’
Jio didn’t find that funny. “He better not be.” If he was on that lame shit, he needed to stay far away from him. Jio didn’t go against the code and his Pops wasn’t supposed to be either. He did the crime and now he had to do the time.
“Why else would he care to ask you about shit that don’t have nothing to do with y’all?”
Jio shook his head. “Not sure, Ma.”
“I know that’s your daddy but don’t trust him. He is evil.”
He ignored her and said, “He keeps bringing up things that happened before I was even born.”
She turned the music down while Jio stared off into space.
“Son, don’t let this go in one ear and out the other. I hope you listening. DO NOT TRUST HIM!” she reiterated.
“Was he really that bad?” The question lingered in the room.
For the first time in his life, she looked nervous. Jio hated that because it told him that there was truth in the stories that he’d heard over the years. Jio used to brush them off because that was his Pops and he would never allow niggas to sit around and throw salt on his name. A man’s reputation was all he had and he wasn’t going to let anyone tarnish the Gotti name.
But lately, he couldn’t help but to realize that although the stories came from enemies, rivals, and bitter bitches, a lot of the pieces were fitting together to make one big puzzle.
Everybody wasn’t lying and he was starting to see it.
“I've heard things.” His mother folded her hands together.
“Like what Ma?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” She eyed him carefully.
“The Pablo shit?”
She nodded. “He crossed lines thinking that he couldn’t be touched and he got a lot of innocent people caught in the crossfire.”
His mother's eyes closed briefly. He knew that she was probably having some flashbacks. Their relationship was traumatic. That’s the only word that he would use to describe whatever his parents shared. He was glad when his mama finally stopped running behind him. She wasn’t a perfect woman but no one deserved to be treated the way he did her.
“Damn.”
His chest felt tight as if chains had been wrapped tightly around his ribs. He couldn’t ignore the feeling in his gut. His dad was up to some bullshit. He just hoped that he wasn’t trying to take him out.
“You know what pisses me off?”
