AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Neither do I.
After I turn the car off and get out, I go to her side and open her door. She huddles deeper into her coat when the wind and snow hit her.
“Minnie is waiting for you,” I say, nodding to the house. “She’ll be excited to see you.”
“You think she’ll like her room?”
We’d been working on it for the past two days. My parents’ kept Minnie, along with Molly’s help, so she wouldn’t be around the harsh smell of paint. And Lucila wanted her to be surprised.
“Yeah.” I kiss her lips and turn her toward the steps. “She will. Give me a few to take care of this.”
She wants to ask, take care of what?, but she blows out a heavy breath instead and climbs the steps. Michele opens the door for her. He steps back so she can enter. He looks at the car, at me, and then slams the door shut.
A cloud of smoke blows out of my mouth when my warm breath clashes with the cold air. I stick my hands in my pockets and walk head down against the wind. When I get to the car, I knock on the window.
Nose rolls it down. “Get in,” he says, stabbing a thumb at the passenger seat. “Or I could always knock on the door and tell Michele I’m coming to dinner.”
Motherfucker tries to act like he has me there, but everyone knows. Michele has no problem taking care of his own. It’s the reason they all avoid the bakery, like the air inside of it holds salmonella. But right now, I have to pick my battles. If I don’t get in, he might drive off, but tomorrow, or the next day, or the next, he’ll be waiting somewhere for my wife to prove a point. I can and I will.
Before I climb inside, I look up at the house. Lucila is waiting by the window, the sheer curtains pulled back. I lift my hand then get in. The interior smells like an Italian sandwich with extra peppers. Nose drives off, one hand on the wheel, leaning forward some.
I watch him from the side of my eye. His hair is dark with specks of silver, and his face is fleshy. He always looks like he could use a good night’s sleep. The bags under his eyes are pillows. His body is mostly solid, though. His eyes are so brown that they’re close to black, and he has a brown mole under his left eye. He still wears suits from the 70s.
He looks at me from the side of his eye. “You trying to get yourself fucking killed, kid? You know who you’re dealing with. Your capo.”
“I don’t remember making an oath,” I say.
“Fuhgeddaboudit,” he says, waving a hand at me, disagreeing and disgusted. “Consider yourself lucky he even considered you at all. You’re not full Italian.”
No, but I’m more than half with an Italian last name. Plenty enough.
When the silence between us stretches, he turns the volume dial on the dash, and music blasts through the speakers. It must have been turned so low that I hadn’t heard it. The song is something straight out of the 70s. He’s into it, because he starts driving like he’s navigating on skates instead of wheels. All he needs to complete the picture is a flashing disco ball and a drink in his hand.
Gallo had to send this chooch to pick me up. I don’t usually mind him, because he doesn’t fuck with me, but I’m in no mood to be transported back in time. If I was, I’d go to the moment I decided to hear what Gallo had to say and knock my fucking lights out.
We drive to a residential area. Streetlights are on, and the blocks are filled with parked cars on the curbs—people are already home and probably eating dinner. The snow is coming down harder. Everything is coated in white.
Nose pulls into a driveway much too fast. The tires screech and we’re thrown forward some when he hits the brake. He turns the volume down, puts it in park, and then kills the engine. The headlights stay on for a few seconds, highlighting the snow falling, as we head inside.
He whistles the tune to the song as he twirls his keyring on his pointer finger. He motions for me to open the door to the house with his chin.
I motion ahead of me. “Age before beauty.”
He laughs and opens the door. I don’t like the feeling in the air tonight. This could go one of two ways. With me walking out, or me going out chopped up in little pieces. There’s no way they’re going to carry my heavy ass out. But I’ve already decided that I’m not dying tonight. How I handle this depends on what Gallo proposes.
Even if I agree and go along for now, one day, Gallo is going to get his. From me.
He’s already made it clear that no means nothing to him. Even though I did some work for him, I’m not bound. I’m not made. But he’s been pushing it. Because he knows what I’m capable of. He’s always known, which was why he was always gunning so hard to get me to meet with him. I have a reputation on the streets that he likes.
To add to that, I’m the son of a man who defies him at all turns. And the nephew of another who he wants to do business with. Ma’s little brother has his own thing going, and anything he touches turns to gold.
One day, I just said fuck it and agreed. He put me to work right away. I snapped bones without flinching when money was owed. I beat the piss out of men for whatever they had done to deserve it. Sometimes Gallo gave the reason why and sometimes he didn’t.
Then Lucila shows up in my life and things change. He knows it. He doesn’t like it. Because he wants me in with him. Then I make it personal with the gym, and here I stand. In an old house, in its dining room, under a dim light.
“Sit,” Gallo says, as he points to a chair across from him at the table. A signet ring wraps around his pinkie. A napkin is tucked into his shirt and he’s eating dinner. A glass of red wine is next to his plate. The bottle is next to that. On the other side, the barrel of a handgun faces me.
I take the seat. Nose leaves the room.
