VINCENZO
Ihave one last errand to run before our dinner tonight, but this one is probably the most exciting one of the entire week. I shoot a message to the owner of a spectacular townhome in the hills area. Very nice community; it reminds me of Britain or the nice part of the Bronx. When we pull up to the front, a short man with wiry glasses in a tailored suit is tapping away on his iPad. I hop out of the car, and my shoes make hollow claps against the sidewalk.
“Welcome!” the man looks up after hearing me near him. I extend my hand to his.
“Vincenzo.”
“Mike.” He chuckles and shakes my hand firmly.
“What still needs to be done before this place is ready to move into?” I glance at the warmth the red brick gives and know it’s a fine place to call home.
“Well, the interior decorator just finished inside if you’d care to take a look.”
“No, I trust they’ve followed my instructions. The key?”
I watch his hand as he grabs a set of keys from his pocket.
“This is for the mailbox, this is for the front and back doors, this is for the windows, and this one’s for the shed out back.” he pulls the keys around the ring until there’s no more before handing them to me.
“Thank you, Mike. I appreciate your help throughout these last few months.” He gives me a nod and turns his iPad to me. I type my electronic signature, and he turns it back to himself, staring at the screen for a few seconds before giving me the okay.
“A pleasure doing business with you, Sir.” He shakes my hand one more time.
“Likewise.” I grin and head back into the car. Lee takes off immediately, letting me know that I've got only an hour before dinner with the family. The second I get home, I sprint to the shower. Wash everything as quickly as I can. Of course, I offer Jess unsolicited style advice, and as per usual, she acts like she doesn’t need it, but goes with what I said anyway.
She looks fucking amazing in everything she wears, so I don’t really need to tell her anyway. I just like that she takes my advice so well. She’s secure in herself like that, knows her strengths and knows mine, doesn’t let it bother her.
On the ride to Pops' house, I keep checking in with her because I know I’m engulfed in mafia talk with the boys. They’re all in a fit about the Russians backing down. There’s talk of vengeance for what happened with Carlito. I’ve opted out of the real talk about what happened that night because no one needs to know that he betrayed our family. Not good for our image or the fond memories the others hold of him.
Arriving at Pops’ house is a little overwhelming, not because of the large crowd but because of all I have to announce. There’s a lump in my throat till I get the words out with our toast.
Everyone responds well, even Pops, who whispered to me that he’s ready to see change. He could be living off of the elation of a grandchild, but I take it as an encouragement to have his unwavering support. There’s one thing about the night, though, that sticks out to me like a dark cloud looming in the distance, and I know I’ve got to address it before everything spirals out of control again.
Antonio is distant the entire first half of the evening. All through dinner, he’s silent. He has this look in his eyes that’s eerily familiar. It reminds me of Carlito in the years leading up to his death.
I won’t letmy little brother talk himself into a corner. Won't let him simmer with rage until it boils over and explodes. He has so much life ahead of him. Too much, actually. He shouldn’t waste it on spiteful revenge. When dinner begins to come to a close and the table is emptying, I ask if we can step outside. He seems caught off-guard by my question, but stands up and follows me to the front of the house.
We slip out onto the porch, and I hand him a cigar. He declines, but I light it anyway, committed to smoking it myself even if he doesn’t share it with me.
“Antonio, I want to apologize to you.” He whips his head to me, eyebrows raised.
“Why?”
“Because it’s wrong of me to assume that you’ll always be my little brother.” He shakes his head, not quite understanding, as I fill my mouth with the oaky sweet tang of my Fuente Fuente Opus X Cigar. It’s a full body. Just the way I like it. (There’s a joke somewhere in there.)
“I’m not following, Vince. I will always be your little brother.” He finally says as I savor the flavor before blowing it out into a thick cloud.
“I mean that I’ve thought a lot about the way this whole inserting the business shit works, and I think it’s unfair.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, it’s fucked. When I said new era, I meant it.”
“So…”
“So I want to name you CEO of Neptune Holdings.” His jaw basically drops to the floor in a guffaw.
“You-you're…”