8
Antonio
There’s trouble brewing and everybody knows it. I look straight ahead to my reflection in my bathroom mirror back at the house, my tired eyes having a hard time recognizing the man before them. Stubble on my face, my hair unkempt—guess you just gotta do what you got to do. That’s the only certainty you can expect in the world of organized crime. I wash the blood off my knuckles and put on a clean shirt. Vinnie was right, we did indeed have ourselves a situation. The streets are getting itchy, eager to test our strength. Well, one thing’s for sure, and it’s that after the couple of days I’ve had, there are a few less guys questioning the Moretti name. It wasn’t pretty, either. A whole crew of Triads tried to raid one of our betting agencies. Once we found them, the few that survived will be limping for the rest of their lives. The less fortunate? Well, let’s just say their deaths will be felt by the whole Triad community. We went really old school. Can you believe that shit? Until now, our don, my father, has turned our family into the most feared criminal organization in the city, and now that it’s looking that I’m going to have to step up, the shit hasn’t just hit the fan, but a whole fucking truck full of manure has been poured into my lap. I don’t believe in any kind of bad luck, voodoo bullshit, but having Mia on my mind sure as hell ain’t helping. And yet, my thoughts of her don’t stop. She dances around them as if she’s doing the Saltarello, circling me. I think of her as I pinch my palm. I’d give anything to ease this desire.
After I get cleaned up, I pause for a moment as I pass the hallway to Mia’s room. I wonder how she’s kept herself busy and if she’s going crazy with thoughts about last night like I am. I tell you what, her old man is a lucky son of a bitch. Not only have I been gracious by letting the fucker live, but I’m housing, feeding, and dressing his daughter too. What will happen later on, however, when it’s time to really collect on his debts? I don’t know, we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we get there. For now, there are more important things to think about.
Speaking of which, I have to go have a sit down with my father.
I move on from the hallway and take a few steps further to my father’s room, knocking on his door. “Hey pops, it’s me.”
His nurse opens and lets me in. She’s round hipped and busty as hell, and I’m sure he makes her go the extra mile with those baths he keeps insisting on. My father is sitting up in his bed, the balcony door wide open. His room looks out to the back of the house, where all you see is the green grass of the lawn and the tops of the willow and spruce trees that line each side of the garden. I swear, from this view, it’s hard to imagine that the sprawling neighborhoods of Manhattan are just a short drive away.
“Antonio,” he calls me over to the chair next to his bed, lifts his hand, and points out to one of the trees with a shaky finger. “There’s a group of songbirds hiding out in those branches.”
I give him a strange look; it’s not often I’ve heard him talk about birds. “Oh, yeah? That’s real nice.”
“Yeah.” He nods his head. The white stubble around his chin and cheeks grows thicker every time I see him. It’s hard to see him like this. “When I was a kid, we used to hunt songbirds. Your grandfather used to roast them with sage. My favorite was to dip the crust of some fresh bread in the pan, to soak up all the flavor from the meat.”
He kisses his fingers, lost for a moment in his memory.
“What are you saying, pop? You want me to get the boys to catch a few for you?”
He immediately shakes his head. “No, no. Just reminiscing, that’s all. Anyway, we stopped hunting them. They were becoming extinct, so we switched our tactics. Moved on to other species in order to avoid disaster.”
My father turns to me. “Listen, Antonio. Much like the hunting of songbirds, it’s up to us to adapt to our changing environment. We have to find ways to secure a future—not just for ourselves, but for the generations that come after.”
I nod and listen to him as I always have.
“I’m getting concerned, Antonio. All this fuss with these hoodlums. So many people these days think they can step on the toes of others to take what they want without consequence.” He stops to reach for the glass of water on the bedside table. I reach over and help him to take a sip, then sit back down. “In a way, it comes as a healthy reminder that all things are at risk of change. That you should never get too comfortable, always expect the tide to turn at any minute, because if you expect it, then it’s easier to overcome it. You understand?”
“Yeah,” I agree. And I think I do. No matter how far you get in this game, there’s always going to be some fucker who thinks they can take you down. Take your eye off the ball, and they may as well do just that.
“Come here, help me up,” my father says, changing the subject. “Let’s stand on the balcony. I need some sun on my face.”
I hold his arm as we move outside. The nurse follows us with a chair and helps him to sit down.
“Keep an eye on your brother too. He’s got the fire in the right place, but he needs some guidance. Talk to him, nudge him in the right direction. Your sister, on the other hand.” He lets out a puff of air from his mouth. “Like always, she wants to go against the grain. Vinnie told me that the guys lost her for a few hours the other day and that she’s always trying to shake off her protection. I don’t know. Maybe it’s time to move forward with our arrangement. A family of her own would help to calm the waters, as well as strengthen our ties with the Rossi family.”
He then turns, bringing his attention back to me. “Which brings me to you, Antonio. The accountant and his daughter, what’s her name?”
“Mia,” I respond.
“Yes, Mia. What’s your plan for her?”
I tighten my face, feeling like I’m a kid explaining myself to my pops again. “If we have his daughter, the accountant has no choice but to pay.”
My father laughs, then coughs, as even the act of laughing seems to pain him. “And what happens when he doesn’t? Come on, son, even if he manages to give back what he owes, there’s still our honor on the table. It’s inevitable, you have to put Mia’s degenerate father into the ground. He stole from us, from me.”
His face turns red, enraged by the fact. “There’s only one way to pay that kind of debt. What you do with the girl is up to you. Just remember, even if unfortunate, all of us bear the burdens of our parents. You hear me?”
Loud and clear, I think, but all I do is nod my head. Both of us look silently onward, listening to the songbirds as they react to the slight breeze that rattles the leaves of the tree. I can’t help but agree with my father’s questioning. What is the end game here? I don’t think I know. I’m not even sure I can think that far ahead without facing the fact that my gut is pointing me toward something that was impossible to foresee.
I’ve seen guys become intoxicated by pussy before, to give everything they have to a broad, but not me—never. For me, fucking is a pastime, something that is as easy to get as a bottle of beer at the bar. All I have to do is say the word, and I’ll have more ass around me than I can count. Then why don’t I do that? The answer is simple—because Mia turns me on more than a hundred different girls could. Her feisty attitude alone is sexy, but combined with her luscious body and then almost giving in to me last night? If only I hadn’t been called away, she would never have cried, she would have let herself fall, and been taken by me. Mannaggia! Damn it! This bitch is melting my mind and there’s only one way to get her out of my system.
I leave my father on the balcony, watching as his nurse goes to his side. My feet take me down the hall. Even if I want to, I can’t visit her now, business and family has to be at the forefront, so instead, I go check on my little sister, whose abrupt entrance into womanhood has scared the shit out of all of us.
“Jesus, Fiona!” Just after I knocked on her bedroom door on the other side of the house, she opens wearing nothing but a pink tube top and some little shorts that cover nothing. “Put some fucking clothes on, would you? What’s wrong with you?”