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His actions forced me to grow up long before I should have had to. Long before a child destined to be a made man in the family normally would. And that’s saying something. All children in the family grow up early. It’s how we survive. How we thrive.
If it weren't for Ricco, I would have been lost. More than likely, I would have been dead years ago. My blood splattered in a dark alley. I had so much anger in me, it made me dangerous, careless. Teachers wanted me to get medicated. Doctors wanted me in therapy. Ricco had other plans. He put me in a boxing ring and slapped some gloves on me.
Day after day, he forced me through the ropes. First letting me punch until I could no longer lift my arms, then later moving on to teaching me technique. Once I could take down men twice my size, he moved me on to weaponry. Pistols, revolvers, sniper rifle, knives, axes, bats, basically anything that could be fired, thrown, or swung he put in my hands and taught me to use it.
While I still check in on my father each week, I rarely spend more than a few hours with him. It’s the only time in the week he stops bringing a bottle to his lips.
Ricco has been my father in his absence. His wife, Greta, my only mother figure.
God I love that woman. She has taken a wooden spoon to my ass more times than I can count. I deserved them.
She is an angel. A goddamn angel. If I ever marry, if I ever find a woman I can trust, I want her to be like Greta. Strong, resilient, and nurturing. As a grown man of twenty-one, she still dotes on me, and I love every moment of it. My cold dead heart soaks it up. Absorbs it like the black-hole it is.
I pull up to the front of the precinct and put my car in park. I don’t turn it off. Leaving the keys in the ignition, I march through the front door. I won’t be in there long. Besides, no one will dare mess with my car, and not just because it’s in front of a police station. I have built a reputation these last few years. My matte black Camaro is as synonymous with fear as the whisper of my name. Touching it will mean certain death for that individual.
Cops scurry out of my way. They won’t exchange any pleasantries with me and that’s fine by me. I don’t need them as friends. They work for the family, and by extension, me. Every cop in this precinct does.
Rounding the corner, I find my father sitting slumped in a chair. Captain Richards stands beside him. I greet him with a nod of the head. “Good day Mr. D’Angelo. I’m sorry we interrupted your morning. As I said, I could have driven him home.” His voice shakes as he speaks. God I love hearing the squeak of fear in his voice. It sends a rush of adrenaline down my spine.
I grab my father under his arm and get him to stand. He’s losing weight again. Probably forgetting to eat in his drunken stupor. “Your offer is appreciated. Perhaps next time I will take you up on it.” I swear his ego doubles in size. I turn my father towards the door. “Let’s go dad.”
Fuck he smells like whiskey and piss. I’ve come prepared. This isn’t my first rodeo. I have a plastic covering already on the passenger seat. I won’t risk the scent permeating into the leather.
I buckle my father in and before I get into the driver’s seat, he’s passed out. Figures. My temper rises a bit more as I pull out onto the street. I need a session in the ring. The serenity I found beating Fred is gone.
My father barely stirs as I get him out of my car and into his house. It’s on the edge of the Caruso Family compound with a few acres of land and trees between it and Ricco and Greta’s house. All higher ranking men of the family have a place at the compound. It’s our home base of operations. The younger guys, like Luca and I, stay in the main house in our own apartments. Though my father is no longer an active member and never made it to the inner circle, his relationship with Ricco and my status in the family has granted him the special privilege of living here.
“I’m sorry son. You must be embarrassed by me.” He slurs his words. It doesn’t matter. I know them by heart. He says them every time I pick him up.
“Get some sleep dad.” I give him a kiss on the temple. As angry as I am with him, and as disappointed as I am, I still love him.
He closes his eyes. “Your mother was right to leave me. I’m a pathetic excuse of a man.”
Fuck. I don’t want her to keep winning. The bitch hasn’t been around in a long time. Her opinion no longer matters. It never should have.
“No.” I jerk his shoulder so his eyes open again. “You are a good man. Lost. But a good man. Helen is the bitch. You saved her family. Took their debts and spared their lives. You gave her everything you could. Hell, you could have given her the Queen’s crown jewels and the greedy bitch would have still wanted more.”
“I love her.” Emotions coat his words. I know he means them. Wish he didn’t.
“Don’t. She’s been gone for years. You don’t owe her anything more. Let her go dad.”
“I can’t.” His eyes close again. Sleep pulling him under.
I pull the comforter up. “I know.” I don’t understand how he can still love her. I don’t. At first I did. I did what all kids from broken homes do. Blamed myself. Took me a while to realize I was wrong. Nothing I could have done would have kept her from leaving.
Perhaps I am a naive idiot. I’ve never loved a woman. Not in the romantic sense. I’ve fucked woman. I’ve lusted over countless female forms. Never have I wanted a relationship. Never felt the pull on my heart and soul. Not sure I ever will. It would be simpler if I didn’t.
My mind wanders to numerous possibilities of the future. What kind of woman could get me to fall in love with her? Is it possible? My heart has been dead for a while. If so, will it be a love at first sight situation? It was for both Ricco and my dad. One relationship is still going strong. The other failed miserable. Guess my odds are fifty-fifty.
I struggle to reign my mind in as I pull up to the main house. It’s a massive mansion. Built like a fortress. It houses over a dozen apartments, as well as a war room, bunker, escape tunnel, and my personal favorite, the dungeon. It’s where I learn the secrets of our enemies. I’ve perfected dozens of ways to extract information from even the most tight lipped individual.
Before I can get out of the car, Luca is rushing down the front steps. I wonder what set his ass on fire. He was called into a meeting with the Don Bosco early this morning. My best guess is the Don was grilling him on the debacle at the Port this weekend.
Fucking Fred.
His actions forced us into a fight with the Irish. We won. Of course. Didn’t matter though, it sealed the Port Master’s fate. He’s not dead. Yet. I showed him leniency just as Luca asked. For now.
While I may not have agreed with Luca to let him live, I didn’t go against him. I wouldn’t. I respect him, and I trust him intrinsically. He’s the calm to my storm. The cautious to my rash. The planner to my spontaneous. When someone betrays us I want to act. To punish. I don’t give a damn the reason. Luca thinks it through, sees the various angles and measures them to choose the most effective course of action.
