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"Well, don one of Giosuè’s wigs, and then ask your mother and her girlfriend to braid it. At least then you’ll quit giving me grief."
Jako places his hand on mine. "I’ve known your family for a long time. Believe me when I tell you that your sons only want to bond with you."
"Oh, what do you know?" I throw back a sip of beer. "Butt out of our business."
"I’m your son’s fiancé, and I’ve lived next to Nonna for decades. I know a thing or two about you guys."
Tommasso grins. "Jako and Faro, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. I for one think it’s adorable you two are finally together."
"Not a tree." Jako grins sheepishly. "My vegetable garden is where Faro and I kiss. In the same spot where he’s spied on me for years."
"You’re lucky I support your relationship." I clink my glass to Jako’s. "Otherwise, I wouldn’t be on board to hear this discussion."
That’s the thing about the way I raise my children.
Unlike other dads, I’m a cool dad.
Like the Mom inMean Girls.
If my adult children want to have sex with the guys decades older than them next door, who am I to stop them?
Love is love.
Better to let them sprout wings and fly on their own.
Vincenzo snickers. "Sometimes, I wish we had a normal father. One who wasn’t so cool with everything."
Amadeo nods. "We could all use a therapy session."
"Do I really seem cool with everything?" I pull my lighter out of my suit coat and light a cigar. "I have plenty of lines I don't cross."
Amadeo’s eyes roll back. "Yeah, right."
"Name one," Vincenzo says.
"I…" I clear my throat. "I refuse to have sex in public locations. Unlike you freaks."
"We’re your sons. Don't talk about us like that."
"Well, then don't do freaky things." I puff my cigar like the boss I am. "I call it like I see it."
The bartender grimaces. "Put out that cigar in my bar."
"Quiet, Guillermo." I shush him with a look. "You don't want to become a casualty of my impotent rage."
Emphasis on impotent.
Jako pats my shoulder. "There, there."
My sons gently remove my cigar, then lay it on the bar.
All the mobsters in the bar are staring at me like I’m a weakling or something, but I don't care.
Let them stare.
You know, they’re such haters, which is why I’m not a fan of leaving Nonna’s compound unless it’s to murder someone.
Everyone’s jealous of me, everyone thinks I’m such a badass, and they couldn’t be as cool as me if they tried.
