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Ilook out the kitchen window to see shit and dirt everywhere. My life is far different from what it was a year ago. The constant low buzz from the ancient appliances is steady in the background. It’s like the same annoying pulse that insects give off on a warm summer night. My view consists of pigs sleeping in rectangular pens, each section leading into a barn-like enclosure. A small fenced-in walkway leads in front of the five stalls that host almost ninety pink, oinking, vicious animals. Their teeth could easily take off any finger that slips into their mouth.
Taking a sip from my bitter black coffee, I then spit the hot liquid out with a curse. My tongue burns from the scalding temperature. My thumb presses on my lip like that might fix it, and it does nothing. It only aggravates me further. Even the crummy coffeemaker in this hellhole is shit.
I toss the mug into the sink. The black liquid splashes up, and the handle of the cheap mug breaks off. It’s the second mug I’ve broken this week. At this rate, I’ll either have to give up coffee or drink from the pot itself.
With a thud, I shove my feet into my work boots and head out for the day. The sun is poking its lousy head above the horizon, and I wish I could beat it back down. I hear the grumblings of pigs in the near distance, and I glare toward them with the morning light in my eyes. Their heavy-set bodies clunk on the dry ground, hearing my angry footsteps.
They serve as a reminder of what I represent.
Disgraceful.
Unworthy.
Ill-suited.
I once lived in a beautiful home. My biggest worry was which poker game to choose for the weekend. I lost thirty thousand dollars in a night and never blinked at the loss. If I won a hundred thousand, it burned a hole through my pocket by the week’s end. I wore designer names like they were condoms—once used, they were fit for the trash. Just like the women who used all their energy to gain a night with me.
This is not me being rude. I treated each of those women with class. It’s just that I never had to put any effort into it. They never challenged me, much like the rest of my life.
My oldest brother was the heir, leaving me and my younger brother basically forgotten. When our father looked at us, it was always past us, like we didn’t exist. It was the same way he looked at our mother.
Without realizing it, he was setting me up for failure by never raising me to rule. My job was to provide for the family if something ever happened. Well, it happened. The power struggle in the Cosa Nostra is fierce, and they have cast me away. The thing is, you should always fear the people you underestimate. I will rise from this in time and take my revenge in the best possible way.
For the time being, I live on a fucking pig farm. My brother Maximus and I were booted from society. Our mother is being paid off monthly not to talk to us. Dead bodies will show up in the middle of the night, and I’m expected to get rid of them. This is my nightmare. Day in and day out, the repetitiveness of my day digs further into me, making my anger boil through me. I should not be taking care of a farm but controlling men in the mafia. I should have hundreds of people looking up to me. It’s my birthright, and yet it was stolen from me the day my father, Pierre Mancini, was murdered.
My father was the head boss of the mafia until one of our greatest rivals, the Rossis, killed him. The death certificate says heart attack, but it fools no one. Even the cops suspected but couldn’t come up with any evidence. Not only did the Rossis steal my father from me, but they framed my oldest brother, Jonny, causing rumors to spread about him turning into a rat. My family and the Rossis have never liked one another. Our family territories are too close together. Neither of us wants to share the wealth. It’s a constant fight of one-upping each other—until we went overboard, and a true war started. The war still rages now.
For the first time in my family’s history, a different Italian last name runs our territory now. My father’s righthand man has seized control of our area while both sides are still fighting.
I gather the heavy buckets of slop for the pigs, dumping it in their trough. They snort as they fight to gobble up as much food as possible. I swear a few are eyeballing me, hoping I’ll fall in.
This is what my life has been reduced to. My lip twists into a snarl at the fact. I should have inherited the throne. But this isn’t me giving up. I just need to wait and prove to everyone I’m worthy. Then I’ll be out of this shithole, ready to take my rightful place.
“What do you have to be angry about this early in the morning?” Coy asks, stepping out of his new car. He’s the new consigliere to his father, Hugo Campisi. They’re the ones who replaced my family after they exiled us. I refuse to acknowledge him right away. He used to be Jonny’s best friend—before he died. The thing with the mafia, when you are no longer earning or useful, you become inadequate. Jonny is dead, and no one cares about his reputation.
Just to spite him, I pet one of the pigs. I’m careful to keep my hand far away from its mouth. The coarse hair tugs at my blisters and makes my hand feel grimy. Slowly, I lift my head to look at Coy, finally acknowledging him.
Before the war spiraled out of control, Coy was promised to marry my half-sister. But like my situation, rarely anything works out as planned.
“I need off this farm once in a while,” I say, walking toward the hose to fill up the water.
Coy’s voice drifts close to my ears as he steps near me. “Between you and your brother, I don’t care what you do. But one of you has to be here at all times, and the chores need to get done.”
My brother Maximus is two years younger than me. He’s a book genius. I’ve never seen anything like it. He likes school and takes free classes over the internet for fun.
The air warms faster as the sun rises over us. The area becomes less noisy, as if the pigs are watching our interaction. Coy is scrutinizing me, and and I flick my gaze to him. His eyes are cold and lifeless with a hardness you only get from living our lifestyle.
“You’re going to be getting a package in the next few days. You need to be ready for it.” When Coy says package, he means a dead body we’ll have to get rid of. That’s the thing about pig farms. It’s an easy place for bodies to go missing. We have a butcher shop in the back barn to help with the segmentation of parts.
I look toward the barn, the sun coming halfway into the sky behind it. I make a promise to myself that I won’t be here longer than six months.
“Will it be here tonight?” My body itches with the need for civilization and people. The city is forty-five minutes from here. I need one night of partying like the old days to hold me over for a while.
“No, not tonight. Make sure you keep a low profile when you’re in the city. The Rossi side won’t think twice about putting a bullet in your head.” Coy may look like he’s concerned, but his tone is way too happy. We both know it would make his life easier if I disappeared completely. Until then, he will have to put up with me here.
“You going to stand there and pretend to like me? I’m touched,” I say sarcastically, my hand to my chest. My black heart barely beats. It’s cold and lifeless. I’ve seen too much blood and violence for it to come back to life.
“Fuck no. But it will be a pain to find someone new to run this place.” He pats my shoulder, turning away from me in search of my brother.
