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Vincent had been so fascinated by the film, so rocked to the core, that he hadn’t noticed a dozen of his father’s close friends sitting in the audience with him.
He ran home that afternoon with a million questions running through his head, absentmindedly navigating a path he knew by heart. Two blocks over, one block down, cut through the small alley the next street over, then it’s only four more blocks south to his home. He could zigzag through the streets without thinking, making it there within minutes.
And years later, as Vincent strolled away from the wedding hall after taking one last look at his family, his feet seemed to instinctively remember the way. He walked past the old theater, surveying the boarded-up windows and crumbling bricks, and he thought back to that day he watched The Godfather. He intended to question his sister when he made it home, but he never had the chance.
As soon as he opened the front door of his house and ran inside, his father’s boisterous voice rocked the downstairs. “Vincenzo Roman!”
Vincent’s feet immediately rooted to the floor as he cringed at the sound of his full name. Glancing in the direction of his father’s voice, he saw him standing in the doorway to his office. His heart beat wildly. Not good, not good. “Yes, Dad?”
“We need to talk.”
Antonio disappeared inside his office. Vincent stood there for a second, intentionally delaying, before forcing his feet to move that way. He took a seat in front of his father’s desk.
“So what did you do today?” Antonio asked, leaning back in his chair, his hands clasped across his bulky chest.
“Went to the park.”
“The park, huh?”
“Yes.”
“And how was the park, son?”
“Fine.”
“And you were there all afternoon?”
“Yes.”
“Did you enjoy yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Fascinating,” Antonio said. “I do wonder how you did it, though, being in two places at once. You see, I got a call a few minutes ago that you were at the theater this afternoon, and I know you wouldn’t lie to me, right?”
The color drained from Vincent’s face. Antonio stared at him intently, waiting for an answer that never came.
“You can’t think I won’t know these things, that I won’t find out,” he continued, realizing Vincent intended to remain silent. “I got eyes and ears all around this city. Someone can’t take a piss in my neighborhood without it getting back to me. And I don’t like the fact that my kid, my only son, thought he could get one over on me. Do you think I’m an idiot? You think your father’s a jamook?”
Vincent shook his head feverishly. “Of course not.”
“You got questions, you want to know things? You come to me. You don’t go out there and get information from everyone else.”
“Yes, sir.” Vincent paused, thinking that over. “I just wanted to see a movie. I didn’t realize . . .”
Antonio stared at him as he trailed off, letting out a deep sigh as he leaned forward. “Look, son, there’s this saying—fortune favors the bold. If you want things, if you want to be successful, you have to take chances, you have to accept risks. You have to, you know, do some things that maybe other people won’t do. Life, it’s kind of like a game of chess. You know about chess, right?”
Vincent slowly nodded.
“So you know the king is the most important player. As long as he’s standing, the game continues. And that’s just like in life. You want to be the king, even if that makes you the biggest target. The king, he’s the key to it all, make or break. You never want to be a pawn or a rook or a knight. You never want to be disposable, just another piece in the way. You want to control the game. You get what I’m saying?”
He nodded again.
“So since you know chess, you also know the real truth,” Antonio said. “The king dictates the game, sure, but the queen? She holds the real power. Which is why we aren’t going to tell your mother about what you did today. She doesn’t need to know you lied and broke her rules, because the queen won’t be quite so understanding. Capisce?”
“Yes, Dad.”
Vincent stood to leave and made it halfway to the door when Antonio called his name. “How was it, son? The Godfather?”
