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BLURP! Blue and red lights from a police cruiser twirl around behind me. My foot is ready to stomp on the gas. Fuck the hundreds of dollars in tools I had chucked because Tony says, “Weare fucked.”
19
Santino
I’ve seen the inside of a jail cell a couple of times in my life. Home invasions were my specialty. I’ll go as far as admitting how Piero and Cecco had a few commercial trucks on rotation. A lot less messy than the trouble Big Tony got himself into last night.
In all of a few minutes, that figa (cunt) almost cost me my sanity, my job, and the woman I’ve fallen madly for.
There was nothing in the trailer when the police arrived. The officer wanted to haul me in on assault charges. My sister must’ve reached down from Heaven and reminded Tony of all the good shit I’ve done for him.
Big Tony said I was teaching him Italian. The cop, who so happened to be Italian, cocked a brow and said a few things that would make Ma blush. Clearly, Big Tony didn’t understood. As the cop started to stroll back to his cruiser, Tony ruined things for himself.
Before I arrived, the idiot had dumped his merch. He had hundreds of pairs of knockoff shoes, from Jordans to the cutesy heels I don’t mind Gina wearing while walking all over me. He’d set them all in an alley a few yards away. I have to guess the idiot thought I’d get out of my truck to help him change a tire.
Fat. Fucking. Chance.
Anyway, Tony screamed about a few bums stealing his stuff.
Big mistake.
He was cuffed and taken in. I wasn’t scot-free, though. Now I have a cold.
I called Gina first thing this morning to postpone our cabin trip, yet again.I’m sneezing so hard my muscles feel like they’re deteriorating.
Hardly standing on my own two feet, I stir a pot of Campbell’s chicken noodlepoop. This stuff is mush and full of sodium. I tap a finger against the clock panel on the oven. It’s almost evening. I’m straining to see the digital numbers after almost overdosing on NyQuil.
Gina said she’d drop by hours ago. Though my body is weak, I sit down at the table and wait for the pot of goop to simmer. What if I let it simmer for a couple of hours like the soup Ma once made . . . Nah, it will be an even worse mess.
Would be nice to lay my head on Gina’s breasts or ass. I could cuddle with her ass right about now.
I’m smiling when I answer the phone.
“Santino . . . This is my first and only call, man!”
I snort at the sound of Tony’s voice. “How’d you call me yesterday?”
“What? I need you to bail—”
“Answer my qu-question first?” I growl, shivering suddenly.
“Got a new phone since my old one wasn’t working. First, I thought it was me. Then I figured? Had to be your phone. But you do so much for Antonia that I decided to buy myself a new phone.”
If my skull weren’t squeezing my brain, I’d laugh. “I see. You bought yourself a new phone out of the kindness of your heart. Thank God for Saint Paul. How kind and thoughtful of you.”
“Listen, Santino, Santa . . . Bro.” He begins to lay it on thick. “I need you to bail me out. Of course, I’ll pay you back.”
“Why can’t you be a stand-up guy, Big Tony?” Would it make me dumb, if I mentioned Uncle Piero and Cecco calling him a waste of space over a recorded line? Trash is always taken out where I’m from.
“I’m a fuck-up, Santino. There's a reason for you to tell me so. I miss Mina. I want to be a better dad for Antonia. My baby girl showed me all the stuff she wanted for her birthday.”
At the pressure in my head, I grimace. “You should know everything on that list. Your daughter isn’t one of those kids who watches commercials and begs for this or that. She’s not impulsive, Big Tony, she’s special. How will Toni understand that every daughter is a princess if you can’t carry yourself like a king, huh?”
“San—”
“That was rhetorical! All’s I’m saying is, be a fucking role model for your kid!”
A few beats pass. “Are you gonna bail me out or not, Santino?!”
