His uncle’s fast agreement was the final straw. The truth was finally out there for others to see. Marco would not be the head of the family. Ever. His father didn’t trust him.
From that moment, the snide comments had come from Marco regularly. He’d always play it off as a joke, but Tristan was nobody’s fool.
“No. I’ve never thought I’m too good for you. But let’s agree on this one thing. You got one more motherfuckin’ time to come at me like that, Marco. Our blood is the only thing saving you right now.”
His cousin’s eyes took on a hard glint. Marco’s lips were pulled tight, and Tristan he could tell his cousin held his temper in check. Maybe he’d finally grown some fucking balls and would actually come at Tristan the way he’d been expecting him to all these years.
He’d hate to tell uncle Roberto and aunt Sofia that he’d killed their only son. Then again, they were probably expecting it to happen someday.
“Come on, Tris. You know, I’m just fucking with you.” A sudden smile came over Marco’s face, but there was no real warmth in it. After twenty-seven years of living under the same roof and being his brother in all the ways that mattered, Tristan knew when his cousin was faking it.
And this motherfucker was faker than a three-dollar-bill.
If Marco could get away with it, he’d try to slit Tristan’s throat. Tristan knew that for a fact, because he’d do the same thing to Marco. It wasn’t that Tristan didn’t love his cousin, because he did. But sometimes the rotten meat had to be destroyed. And, if Marco was as smart as he claimed, he knew Tristan was well aware of how he felt about him.
His lips lifted in a smile as Tristan watched his cousin closely. He wondered what the hell went wrong with Marco over the years. At this point, he wanted Marco to try to come at him. It would give him a perfect chance to put all this bullshit to rest, so he could move on. The mood swings, quick anger, and excessive drinking had turned Marco into someone he no longer knew.
“I’m going to ask you one more time,” Tristan snarled. “This time, I expect an answer. Who the fuck are we here to see?”
Pointing across the street to an outside lunch deli, he lifted his chin. “Him. Raymond Sperry.”
Not much in this world could shake Tristan. Except what his cousin had just said. Raymond Sperry was an original gangster. The old school dudes were often referred to as an O.G. by the younger ones. And if there was anyone O.G., it was Raymond Sperry. Fuck!
Back in the day, their fathers had been friends. More than friends. Brothers. They’d trusted each other with their lives.
Considering Raymond was a black man, there was something to be said for that connection. Both he and Marco knew the real history. It was part of their family’s origin story. They grew up on tales of the man referred to as Mayhem, the nickname his Uncle Roberto called his longtime friend.
From what Tristan knew, Raymond had fallen in with their fathers when they were all young. Savio and Roberto were just entering the business and needed the right connections. Raymond helped them set up business contacts in the neighborhood, introducing them to the right people, and vouching for them. He gave them access to people who would have never given them the time of day.
Back in the 1970s, it was practically unheard of to have the Italian’s working publicly with a black guy. But they’d done it. All of them basically giving the middle finger to what society said. Even their fathers, uncles, and others around them gave up trying to get them to change their approach. Probably because it had worked. Whatever Raymond had done, it catapulted the younger Lucarelli’s further than their fathers had been. The partnership was strong, and nothing could break their bond.
Including prison.
Apparently, Raymond had been caught up on charges. Instead of trading his knowledge of the Lucarelli family to make it easier on himself, he took the heat on his own. Served six years at the Moran prison facility in Cranston.
In all those years, not once did he open his lips to rat out the family. Loyalty like that was almost unheard of from someone not connected to the family by blood. When he got out, apparently the two brothers had repaid his loyalty in spades.
Wait a minute. This was the guy Marco felt disrespected him? Shaking his head, he sighed deeply. A shit storm was coming. He could feel it in his bones, and again, Marco was in the middle of it all.
“Marco. What the fuck are you doing? You know he’s off-limits.” That Marco had somehow tagged Raymond as someone who’d disrespected him didn’t bode well. For Marco.
Spittle flew out of his cousin’s mouth as he yelled, “Not to me! No one’s off-limits unless I say they are. I’m the oldest son. That fuckingmulignantold me no. Told me he didn’t take orders from me. I’ll put a bullet in the back of this nigger’s skull.” Breath heaving, eyes wide, and his lips pursed in anger, Marco could hardly pull himself together.
Looking at his cousin a bit closer, Tristan saw what he should have noticed earlier. Dilated pupils. Fidgety. Eyes flitting from spot to spot. “Fuck.” This was worse than he thought. Running a hand down his face, he knew it was time for him to get the fuck outta this car.
“You with me, or are you taking a dead man’s side against the family?”
Tristan shook his head at the bullshit coming from his cousin. This wasn’t the family at all. His uncle would never condone this, and they both knew it. Raymond Sperry was not to be touched unless Uncle Roberto ordered it, which would never happen.
From the crazed, drugged up look in Marco’s eyes, he was itching for a reason to challenge Tristan.
Nodding his head in acceptance, Tristan came to a decision. If that’s how Marco wanted it, then he’d get it. Because there was no way in hell he was going to allow this to happen. Not on his watch.
“Fuck this shit. You know the rules, Marco. Raymond Sperry is off-limits without uncle’s permission. When you’re head of the family, you can do whatever you want to do. Until then, I’m not condoning this shit.”
Making a split-second decision, Tristan exited the vehicle. Buttoning his suit jacket, he made his way across the street to his father’s old friend.
Just as he crossed the street, his gaze caught sight of a vision. Her long black hair flowed down her back as she bounced her way along the sidewalk. Her rich caramel skin glowed in the sunlight. A wide smile covered her face as she greeted everyone she passed. His gaze took her in from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet.