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“I have a job for you, boys.” I said, putting my hands in my pockets.
“Our job is to watch out for your pretty ass, Boss.” Santo said.
“Not today. I need you two to find someone for me.”
“Find who?” Arno spoke while making himself comfortable on my couch. “Is this about business or about a woman?”
I licked my lips and cleared my throat. “Pina Bernoulli.”
Their heads snapped in my direction when they heard the name. Arno and Santo worked for Giovani for almost ten years, so they knew all the shit that went down before father died. I doubted they remembered Pina, but they both knew who she was.
Santo came to sit next to me. “What’s this about, Boss? Why are you looking for trouble with Bernoulli?”
My brother paid them a lot to keep me out of any mess I might find, so I wasn’t surprised to see their chests puff up, like they were expecting shit to go down any second.
“Martino isn’t here.” I repeated what Pina had told me. “I doubt he’s even in the country.” Salvatore made sure Ariana wasn’t going to set foot in Italy ever again, and if Martino and that cunt of a wife he had were looking for her, chances were they’ve crossed the border by now which could only make me happy.
“Pina is the young one, right?” Arno let his head tip to the side.
“Yes. She’s somewhere in this city and I need you to find her. Today. Start at House of Flora, it’s some kind of brothel ran by a man called Tony Balbano.”
Santo’s eyes rounded. “Bernoulli’s daughter is working in a brothel.” He laughed. “How much is she charging for the night? Maybe I’ll go check out what those girls have that’s so special that Ariana took Fabiano’s mind.”
My hands turned into fists and I pinned Santo down with a look meant to kill.
“She’s not a fucking whore. Pina works there as a waitress.”
“My bad, Boss.”
“Yes, it was. Find her.”
“Why?”
Because she left my bed and I wanted her back there. I wanted more time to stay lost in her eyes where the darkness couldn’t reach me.
“Find Pina. Let me know when you get her address.”
They left the room and I started pacing around not knowing what to do with my time. I’ve finally found what I was looking for, someone who could make me forget what a fucked up fraud I was, and I was eager to have her back.
How ironic it was that I’ve searched high and low for that feeling and Pina was the answer all along. She was under my nose and I sent her away, another thing in my live I’d fucked up.
§
By six o’clock a file had been delivered to my hotel room containing all of Pina’s information. All I cared about was her address, everything else I already knew.
Pina was renting a small apartment in a bad neighborhood—Corviale—living in a long building that must have housed hundreds of people inside the graffiti covered walls. The cement sidewalk was covered in dirt and overgrown weeds and the park in front of the building looked abandoned a long time ago. I would have been more surprised of where Pina ended up if I wouldn’t have known she was dirt poor.
I frowned, looking up at that building and thinking about what my sister would say if she’d see this place. Grazia was a gentle soul and seeing her friend in such a dire situation would be like a punch in the gut. Honestly, it didn’t feel much better for me either. Pina was not my problem—I’ve told myself over and over again—her father’s mistakes were not mine to correct, but she was still the same blond girl with pigtails that grew up under my eyes. There was still anger in my heart, but I was starting to see through the fog and realize that the blood in her veins didn’t make Pina my enemy. Ariana and Father were two disgusting people who were blinded by their selfish desires; Martino was too hungry for power and too much of a coward to stop his daughter from becoming my father’s whore, but Pina… she was the only one who’d never hurt anyone.
While I was waiting in front of the building for her to come out, my cell phone started vibrating and I grunted when I saw Giovani was calling me. Great, it was time for another lecture from my big brother. At least now he didn’t make Goliath or Guido call me.
“Don Caputo.” I answered, sarcastically.
“You’re back in Italy.” There was no question mark at the end of his sentence, so Santo and Arno must have reported to him already.
“Yes, I am.”
“What are you doing in Rome, little brother?” I hated when he called me that. Giovani was the oldest of all eight of us, but he only called me thelittlebrother.
