Be the change.
And take no shit.
Chapter 23
Rocco Spinelli
I left Anthony Bianci in the clubhouse and walked out of the gated compound like there wasn’t a price tag connected to my head. They say the hardest walk a man can make is the one he makes alone, but it’s that walk that makes him stronger. It’s the walk that makes him finally recognize his capabilities.
Once I made my way onto the street, I called Johnny and Richie to pick me up. They were back in Staten Island and I had ordered Bruno to stay with Violet. With time to kill, I walked the streets of downtown Brooklyn. A block up I spotted a bunch of kids playing stickball in the schoolyard. I leaned against the fence and watched as they destroyed my favorite childhood game.
After five agonizing minutes, I rounded the gate and made my way toward the children. I don’t know what propelled me to take the ball from the kid who was pitching, but the next thing I knew I was playing stickball with a dozen kids, teaching them the fundamentals of the game. By the time Johnny and Richie arrived, I was sweating. The kids loved it, though, and I promised if I was ever in the neighborhood again, I’d swing by and play with them. Before I left the schoolyard, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a crisp fifty. I handed it to the pitcher whose position I robbed and instructed him to buy everyone ice cream.
Then I was on my way.
Playing with those kids was all the boost I needed to conquer my next hurdle and I instructed Johnny to drive me to Flora’s restaurant. I thought about stopping off to get her flowers or some shit equivalent to an olive branch but then I remembered my conversation with Violet and decided Flora would be lucky if I let her keep her fucking hands.
Besides, the olive branch business was a total bust.
My cannolis and cookies are rotting in Bianci’s truck and I’m out forty bucks.
I push open the door to the restaurant and bypass the waitress who offers to seat me, making my way into the kitchen. Flora is too busy rolling the dough for her empanadas to notice me, so I clear my throat. Her eyes—so similar to her daughter’s—find me and she scowls.
“What are you doing in my kitchen?” she sneers, wiping her hands on her apron.
“It’s time you and I have a conversation.”
“I don’t have anything to say to you.”
“Well, that’s too bad, because I have an awful lot I want to share with you.” I look at the young woman chopping tomatoes, and point to the work station in front of Flora. “Can you take over for her?”
That simple question sets Flora off and she slams her rolling pin down on the butcher block counter. She spews a bunch of Spanish expletives as she rips off her apron and tosses it next to her rolling pin.
Ah, so this is where Violet gets her temper from.
Good to know.
“You don’t get to come into my restaurant and order my staff around,” she spats, grabbing me by the front of my shirt. “You’re nothing but a maton.”
“A what?”
“Get out of my kitchen!”
“I’m not going anywhere until you listen to what I have to say, Flora, and I didn’t order anyone around, I simply asked if she could takeover for you.”
She studies me for a moment before releasing my shirt. With a huff and more cursing, she leads me out of the kitchen, through the back door that leads to the alleyway where the dumpsters are. A wonderful place to tell her what a piece of trash I think she is.
“You have ten seconds.”
“I don’t know what the fuck your problem with me is, but when that hate reaches your daughter it becomes a problem for me.”
“Don’t you talk to me about my daughter,” she sneers. “If you gave a damn about any of my children, you’d leave them alone. Your uncle lured my son with the mighty dollar and you’re trying to lure my daughter with your mother’s diamonds and empty promises. Well, let me tell you something, boy, Violet is all talk. She won’t last in that lifestyle.”
I narrow my eyes on her. She isn’t bitter, she’s fucking crazy.
“Hold it,” I say, taking another step closer to her. “You want to preach to me about giving a damn about Joaquin and Violet, when you wrote off your only son and like to use your hands on the only child you got left?”
“You can judge me all you want, but I know my children. Joaquin will fall on the sword for you and your uncle, but Violet—she’s a wildcard.”
“I don’t even know what the fuck that means.”
“It means she is defenseless against your world. People are going to get wind of her, they’re going to use her and try to break her.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. Your daughter is stronger than you think. She’s loyal and—”
“She’s a mess!”
Anger fills me as I’m engulfed with the dire need to protect and defend. Clenching my jaw, I fix her with a glare and close the distance between us.
“The only mess I see is standing in front of me,” I grind out. “Don’t worry, though, I’ll happily take Violet off your hands.” I pause for a beat, swiping a hand over my face. The urge to tell her that the daughter she calls a mess is the only reason she’s got a fucking restaurant eats at me. But that ain’t my story to tell.
“Your arrogance is going to bite you in the ass,” she warns, drawing my attention back to her. “Violet will turn on you. She won’t mean to, but your enemies will fill her head with lies and she’ll think she’s saving you. Where does that leave her?”
I stare at her for a moment. There are so many pieces of that statement to dissect, but I think the one thing that stands out most is her knowledge of my enemies and what they’re capable of. A woman like Flora, someone who as far as I know hasn’t had any affiliation with the mob, shouldn’t sound so sure of herself in that regard. Still, I force myself to push her comments to the back of my head.
There’s no place for doubt.
Not now.
“I’ll take my chances,” I grind out, point a finger at her. “Stay out of my way, Flora, or I’ll make Mitch’s threats to your livelihood look like a walk in the park.”
Those words wipe the smug expression off her face, and I watch as her brows pull together. I don’t elaborate, though.
Let the miserable bitch draw her own fucking conclusions.
~*~
My altercation with Flora left me in a bad mood and I decided to push back the visit with my sister. I didn’t have it in me to go ten rounds with another disgruntled woman. I left the restaurant and went straight to Uncle Vic’s realtor. The ball to get Violet a place of her own was in motion and with any luck I’d have a bid in by the end of the week.
Stepping outside the realtor’s office, my gaze darts toward the street to where Johnny and Richie are cluelessly bickering over the Yankees and the Mets. I’m about to make my way over to them when I an odd feeling washes over me. Ever since the shit in Miami, I’ve been making a conscious effort to rely on my senses and be aware of my surroundings. A man can have a whole fucking roster of bodyguards and still catch a bullet.