Page 11 of Texting Mr. Mafia


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I have to remember the broken promises and the sour looks, always like he wished I wasn’t even there and would have preferred for me to disappear like all our money. I can’t trust people. Not even Mom, in the end. But is that fair? Isn’t it the pills’ fault?


Three dots appear. I’m staring at the screen like I want to make my own eyes bleed. Maybe that’s the most melodramatic way I could think about this, but that’s how it feels, and it’s been a dramatic couple of days. They vanish. I bite down. He thinks I’ve made this whole thing up to steal his money. He probably has countless people doing this every single day. Always trying to take, take, take.


Oh, they’re back again. Good. It gives me more time to think about how he will phrase it when he tells me to get lost. He’s not going to want anything to do with me.Annnnnd… they’re gone. Great.

The door to the breakroom opens. It’s Terri. “Are you trying to get fired, girl? You’re on the final push now. Don’t be a quitter.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

“You’re five minutes over. Management’s going to have a meltdown. Come on. Up and at them.”

I glance at the screen one last time. They’re still there, those ugly dots, twisting me up.…Walking over to the lockers, I open mine and put the phone on top of my bag. Whatever he’s writing, it can wait. I have to get through this shift first. I can work out how to save my family later.

As I follow Terri down the stairs, I remind myself to be cautious. He said he wants my address to help, but there’s no guarantee of that. His motives could be far more harmful. In my experience, they usually are.

CHAPTER6

Elio

I hit the heavy bag, teeth gritted and soaked in sweat. I’m soaked down to the goddamn bone. Down to the soul. With more than sweat. I’m drenched in the idea that I need to save my woman.My woman. I hit the bag harder. I’ve only been at it for twenty minutes, but I’m completely slick as if I’ve been here for hours. It’s seeing my—I hit the bag—woman.

Again, I hit harder, and it swings and whines on the hinges. I’m trying to convince myself to delete Scarlet’s phone number and forget she exists. After Mom came and stopped me from leaving, I was forced to laugh and joke with the Shanks. Shake their hands, smile at their jokes, and politely refuse their champagne. Dad sat there like a goddamn skeleton as Mom leaned in, forced a smile—it seemed so fake—and told everybody they should keep having a good time.

I glance down at my phone. I’ve left it facedown on my wallet. There’s a chance Scarlet is just messing with my head anyway. Asking for money could mean she desperately needs it, like she says. Or it could mean she’s just another woman trying to wring something from a Marino. It’s happened plenty of times.

From behind me, I hear the door open. I turn to see who it is because I’m a Family man, and I’ll never let anybody sneak up on me, but I don’t have to. I know it’s going to be Luca. He leans against the wall, still wearing his suit, seeming happily drunk despite everything.

“I knew I’d find you here,” he says.

The timer goes off. I start stripping my gloves. “Thought you’d be face down in a hole somewhere.”

“It spit me back out,” he says. “Doesn’t like Italian food, apparently.”

“Ha, ha, ha.” I throw my gloves on the counter and begin unwrapping my hands. “You realize what we’ve done this evening, don’t you, Luca? We’ve gone into business with a partner we know nothing about. We haven’t audited their books—”

“Their books?” Luca cuts in. “We’re not on the stock market.”

“Of their legitimate businesses,” I snap. “And we haven’t sent one of our men in to look at their other work. They could be dealing drugs. They could be human traffickers.”

“Dad wouldn’t sign us up with scum like that, Elio.”

“Dad isn’thereanymore!” I roar.

Luca flinches and takes a step back. I can’t blame him. It’s not often I get like this. Never, truthfully. I can’t remember the last time my temper erupted. I can generally keep myself under control, but my passion is scarlet, burning.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Luca says, recovering.

“It has to be said. He’s not the man he was.”

“Just because he can’t give speeches doesn’t mean he’s not the same man. He’s given his instructions.”

“ThroughMom,” I say. “When did you ever know Dad to include Mom in Family business? When hasMomever wanted to do it? She’s only agreed to it because she doesn’t see it either. She doesn’t see that the man we knew, for now at least, is gone. He shouldn’t be making deals. He should be recovering.”

“You’re not the don, Elio.” Luca steps forward, weaving side to side like he might drunkenly collapse. “Don’t forget that.”

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