On the other side of the door is something else that’s stupid. Mason Brady. I guess I'm not off the hook after all. "What do you want?"
"We're assigning you a caseworker. Now and then, we're going to pop in to see how Luca is doing under your watch. It's not a good look to have your boy admitted to the hospital for a bunch of unexplainable wounds."
"He fell down the steps, you schmuck. There's nothing unexplainable about it. I explained it to people in the hospital yet here you are grasping at straws. No one has ever pinned anything on me, and you’ve got nothing on me now, so why are you wasting my fucking time and annoying me in the process showing up at my damn house, insinuating things that aren’t true and would never hold up in court?”
Mason steps into my house and I cock my fist ready to punch him square in the jaw. People are animals and animals are territorial, especially me. Even though I own this house free and clear I know how the law works, and how this prick is almost as untouchable as an animal who’s going extinct. He’s got that kind of invisible shield around everything he does, whether right or wrong. And even though he’s in the wrong by coming onto my turf like this, challenging my own masculinity, unfortunately, if I were to deck him square in the nose it would give him everything that he needs to lock me up, at least for a short period of time. It doesn’t matter if it’s one fucking second, because I’m not willing to part with my boy for any time whatsoever, so I can’t do what I should. This world we live in and all the rules really piss me off most of the time. Really fucking get under my skin, but right now I have no other choice but to bite my tongue and restrain myself.
"Go ahead, schmuck. Go look at my son eating his dinner. Go. Take a look around and see that everything is in order and none of the stuff you jerk off to, the illegal things youimagineare happening in the privacy of my home, are even close to happening under my roof. Nothing here even remotely close to your little fantasies of busting me and putting me on the wall at your shitty little office like a trophy, showing off to your boss so you might get a promotion, a five percent raise, a corner fucking office in another decade or two, you loser. I have nothing to hide from you people."
Mason doesn't say anything to me. Instead, he heads to the kitchen. The fact that he knows where my kitchen is so easily means that I'm being spied on. This prompts my next question.
"How did you know I was in the hospital last night? Huh? Are you people spying on me? How come you didn't pull me over when I ran all those red lights? Are you going to arrest me for admitting it right now? Come on, pussy. Speak up. Why don't you be a man and get me on real charges instead of making things up that have to do with my son."
Mason turns around with a smirk on his face. "You know that we’re watching you 24/7. The only reason that your professional places aren’t being wiretapped is that you're a step ahead of us. For now. But you’ll slip up. All you dumb uneducated underworld losers do. And when that happens, and it will, we’ll come hard and fast. We’re going to get something on you alright. Period.”
“There’s nothing to get and you know it.”
“You sure about that? A man died the other day at the hands of one of your men that we both know has already been locked up. All over a PS5. A PlayStation 5 video game console. Are you shitting me? And we know the order for the hit came down from you. But we can't get you, yet…because you always find a way to elude us and have someone take the fall for you. Well, all of it’s catching up with you and we're going to take your son away real soon. Mark my words. And when we do, you're going to sing like a canary, confessing everything you've ever done to make sure that your son is put into the hands of a family member rather than a foster home.” He pauses. “You don't want your son to be in a foster home now do you? There are some pretty nasty foster homes out there after all. Who knows what might happen to him or who might put a hand on him."
I'm clenching my fist so hard that what little fingernails I do have are digging into my palm. He wants to talk about putting his hands on someone. I’m more than ready to throw hands in his direction and give him more than a taste of exactly what he’s so hell-bent on giving my son.
I don't know if he's bluffing though. I don't know if he's just saying things to make me mad, to try and get a reaction out of me. I’d never admit it, but in many ways, it's working. I'm furious.
"It's one thing to come at me and my businesses. But you bring my son into this while you’re standing in the same room where he’s trying to eat? You want to try and tiptoe like the little bitch you are, dancing around about some vulgar insinuations regarding kids?” I take a step closer, get right in his fucking face, and point my finger an inch from his eye. “I’ve got your name, Mason Bitch Brady. I know what you look like and I don’t give a shit who you work for. Just imagine I tell some paroled convicts about your sick little pedo fantasies. The fact you’re a fed is just a cherry on top. They’ll track you down, hunt you like the sick fuck you are, come into your bedroom at night, and cut your cock off with a rusty, serrated knife. Then shove it down your throat and give you a Colombian necktie. They’ll be fucking heroes. You’re gonna be famous all right, Brady…but not in the way you expect. Gonna be way different when you have a closed casket funeral and that video of you being taught a lesson hits the dark web. You wanna talk about my family? Why don’t you think about your family first, biiiitch.”
Mason leans in, his forehead almost touching mine. "Are you threatening an officer of the law Tony? Cuz it sounds like a very thinly-veiled threat?"
"Are you done observing my son for the day? Because I have nothing left to say to you."
The smirk returns to Mason's face and I want to smack it right off. He's fearless. I’ll give him that. But I’ve been in this game long enough to know that usually when men are fearless, it means they're goading on their opponent. And when they're goading on their opponent they know something that the opponent doesn't know…like he’s probably wearing a mic and has multiple squad cars backing him up outside and around the block. I'd be playing right into his hand if I punched him in the face.
"I think my visit’s been quite productive. Nice little dinner conversation we’ve had. So I'm going to be on my way, Tony. But you'll be seeing more of me, unannounced just like today whenever I see fit. Hopefully, you can keep yourself out of trouble and keep your kid safe. But I don't have faith in that. Men like you always screw up in the end and get lost along the way.” He turns to go but just has to try and rub it in. “You know…my father was assigned to your case. He was fired because you were always one step ahead of him. He was fired for not making any headway. Lost out on his retirement and had to downgrade the house."
I chuckle. "Too bad for both of you that your father was a failure. When I look at Luca I know that I'm going to be nothing like your father. But keep spying on me and trying to build your case like your poor excuse for a dad did. Your old man wasted his life on me, and he was so piss poor at his job I didn’t even know he existed. That’s how little he meant to me, or the world."
He wants to question my parenting skills. I’ll fight fire with fire then, throwing the same punch he’s throwing at me…but my words land where his were nothing but a glancing blow.
My verbal punch definitely landed all right. His shoulders deflate and his eyes go hollow, likely thinking back to how his dad wasted his time unsuccessfully chasing me instead of being a father to the person standing in front of me now. Not my problem. I have no remorse for either of them. Life’s tough. You’re scared? Get a dog. Don’t come crying to me for sympathy.
I follow behind him as he moves to the door, keeping his head cocked back slightly waiting for me to try something behind his back, but I have no need to sucker punch him, or anyone. I fight like a man, and take pride in the blows I deliver directly, not some passive-aggressive shit like most ‘men’ these days.
As soon as he steps outside I reach for my phone, ready to berate my security team for letting him get this close to me without being notified first.
But before I can use my mobile for anything, my screen comes to life and what do I see but the contact page for her.
Cassandra.
I don't care anymore. This isn’t a coincidence. I'm going to see her.
I grab Luca and get him strapped into his seat in the car, driving over to John's house. He should be at work because his deli stays open all hours. He's a workaholic and someone I respect. With him out of the house, I should have no problem stating my case to Cassandra in person and telling her that I made a mistake.
This isn’t a phone call type of thing. I need to show face and man up, telling her that I made a mistake and I need her back as Luca’s babysitter…nanny…whatever it’s called. Whatever gets me more time with her on the daily.
And at night.
We also need to talk about the kiss and lay some ground rules. Funny because it was me who broke the rules in the first place. What I need to do is let her know that it's never going to happen again. It's all business moving forward.
When I arrive at her house, my hands are clammy. I don't know if that's a good or bad thing. I lift Luca up and out of my car and start up toward the house. I just keep telling myself that it doesn't have to be complicated and the whole thing can be easy. Call me crazy but I feel extremely excited to see her. I'm not too familiar with the feeling so it's not easy to decipher what's going on in my chest.