Page 62 of Loyalty

Andino snorted from his perch on the desk. “You can start by not calling them the fucking Calabrese, John.”

Yeah, he would try.

No promises.

Johnathan found his father sitting in the small library downstairs. Lucian sipped from a neat whiskey while he flipped through a newspaper. He looked laidback, and entirely relaxed. Like the man who never stopped moving had finally taken a break.

It was an unusual sight.

“You wanted me to come find you?” John asked.

Lucian looked over the edge of the newspaper. “Seems the stock market is up two points.”

John’s brow furrowed. “All right.”

“And some action movie is breaking box office records.”

“Okay.”

“Stop looking at me like my head is growing bigger, John.”

He wet his lips. “We don’t usually do this kind of small talk, Dad. That’s all.”

“Never really got the chance, did we? Cosa Nostra was always getting in the way, and putting up barriers that kept us apart. I couldn’t only worry about my son—and the problems he constantly faced—when Cosa Nostra made me stay at arm’s length.”

John blinked.

Lucian waved at the chair beside his. “Come sit, and talk.”

“I—”

“John, please come sit with me.”

“All right,” he said, his voice feeling like an echo.

He joined his father, and Lucian passed over a section of the newspaper.

“We’re going to start doing this. You and me, I mean.”

John stared at the paper. “So, doing nothing?”

“Not nothing. Being normal, John. Have I ever told you how proud I am of you, my boy?”

He had to think about it.

“Sure you have, Dad.”

“Things I thought you wouldn’t be able to do or handle because of the bipolar, you’ve done all of it and more. You still are. Expect me to tell you how proud I am more often now, John.”

“Did you ever think that I liked the way we were?”

“Did you?” his father asked. “Like it, I mean.”

No.

“I’ve done a lot of shit, Dad,” John settled on saying, “to everybody—you included. Said a lot of things, you know. I burn bridges, but I don’t usually fix them.”

“And here we still sit, John.”