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“Romano, Chief wants to see you before you head out.” Now my gaze turned wary. He saw the look and shrugged. “I don’t know what about, Dante. As far as I know you’re not in any trouble, but go see him so you and Ciro can hit the streets.”
I nodded and quietly motioned to my partner that I’d be back soon. We’d been riding together for years so we had an uncanny ability to speak without words. I navigated the hallways with ease until I came to the chief’s door. Knocking quietly, I opened it once I heard him call out.
“Sir?” I poked my head in, waiting to be invited inside.
“Ah, Romano, come in. Shut the door.” Chief Reynard was an older man, with graying hair and a handlebar mustache. I’d always liked him, but I got pulled into his office far too often. I had a feeling I knew what this was concerning.
“Sit, sit.” He waved at the chair across from his desk while he steepled his fingers together and watched me with predatory eyes. “How are things going?” he asked once I’d taken a seat.
I stifled a sigh. “Good, sir.” I’d been with precinct number five for fifteen years, since I graduated the academy at nineteen years old. I’d never been anywhere else and still I got the third degree a few times a month.That tends to happen when your half-brother is the biggest Italian Mafia Don in all of New York City. Just like your father was before him.
Reynard and I sat quietly studying each other. Each waiting on the other to speak. Finally, he broke the silence. “Son. Your record is exemplary,” he said. “But you and I both know that your…background is going to make moving up in this career damn near impossible.” He picked up a piece of paper from his desk and slid it toward me.
Glancing down, I saw the detective’s application I’d filled out. I loved being a beat cop, but for some reason I’d seen the opening and felt a push to put in for it. I’d known they wouldn’t ever let me become a detective. Hell, it was a miracle I was a cop at all. For multiple reasons. My family for one. My mother left my father when I was eight years old and I’d gone with her, but he’d had a very heavy influence on how I’d been raised. It was one of the reasons I’d wanted to become a police officer. I’d do anything to avoid becoming a made man for the Italian mob. It hadn’t made my father happy at first. But he had my brother, Nico, to take over for him so eventually he’d given his blessing.
“Sir, I understand,” I said simply. “I just thought I’d give it a shot.” I shrugged nonchalantly. I saw frustration pass over his face.
“If I could change it for you, I would. Even I don’t have that kind of pull, kid.”
I nodded and looked away from those intense brown eyes; instead, I looked back down at the application. It didn’t matter. I would happily stay a beat cop until retirement. At thirty-four, I still had a long way to go until then, but I lived for the thrill of the job. Of course, it was a lot less dangerous for me. Dad and Nico had seen to that. Before his death there had been an incident where Dad had tracked down a criminal who shot at me during a drug bust. The end result hadn’t been pretty. Even though the dealer had lived, it was agreed by most that that wasn’t a mercy. Now most criminals on our route knew better than to fuck with me. Not that I needed their help.
Then, there were the guys I worked with. Most were cool, but some still thought I was nothing but trash. Mafia scum. No matter how hard I worked it was all I’d ever be to them. I was dirty in their eyes and in the eyes of the judicial system. Every case I worked on, anytime I went to court, my family would be brought out and paraded in front of a jury. I’d be discredited and cases would be thrown out. It wasn’t fair but it was the truth.
There were times I wanted to give in and be the criminal they all assumed I was. It would be a lot easier. Instead, I worked harder than every man around me to be one hundred percent by the book every day.
“It’s okay, Chief. I get it.” And I did. They couldn’t have a cop with my family’s reputation representing them. With all my brother’s ‘businesses’ thriving, I’d never climb the ranks in the NYPD. We quickly said goodbye and I returned to the muster room to find Ciro.
“What was that about?” He asked curiously, as we grabbed our gear and headed out to our shop. We threw our bags in the vehicle and secured our long arms. I snagged the keys from him and slid in behind the wheel.
“I put in to take the detective’s exam,” I replied, reversing, ignoring the look of shock he threw at me.
“What the fuck, bro? You didn’t even tell me.” He looked hurt.
Shit.I shot him a quick glance. “Sorry, I figured there was no way in hell they’d let it happen or I would have mentioned it. Turns out, I was right.”
His brown eyes narrowed on me. “They said no?”
I snorted. “Of course, they said no.”
“Well why the fuck would they do that? You’re one of the best guys we have.”
“Nico,” I said flatly.
He grumbled, but didn’t say anything for a minute. Finally, he picked up the car’s radio mic. “Dispatch, Charlie twenty-two.”
I listened quietly as Ciro told dispatch that we were on duty and in our assigned area. He and I had grown up together. When Mom and I had moved out after she divorced Dad, we moved into the apartment next to Ciro. It hadn’t taken us long to become friends.
Dad had been a rare one. He’d been a sadistic son of a bitch, but he’d actually loved Mom and me so when she begged to go, he let her. Nico was the by-product of an affair he had; that’d been the reason she refused to stay. When that mistaken night showed up on his doorstep with a son two years older than I was, Dad hadn’t been able to turn them away. He’d never turn away his kids. Mom had stayed for a while, but eventually the strain of living in the same house as his former mistress broke her.
Mafia life was anything but stable. I glanced away from the road and found Ciro watching me. “What?”
“You alright, bro?”
“Yeah, fine. I was expecting it.” When he didn’t say anything or look away, I sighed. “Seriously, it’s fine. You’ll just have to stay working beat with me until we retire. We can both be running around the streets at fifty-years-old.”
“Fuck that,” he said, laughing.
The sun dipped down over the horizon and our shift really began. We both loved working nights. There was just something about it. All the good, decent people lived and played during the daylight hours. The depraved existed and skulked in the shadows of the night. It was a lot more fun for us. Some might think that was sick, but it was what it was.
