The mob boss.
Shit, the mob boss flew to Atlanta to get rid of my problem.
“If it helps you sleep better at night, tell me about the guy first. How he wronged you. Oh, and Donnie swept the restaurant for bugs. You can speak freely.” He poured the whiskey into each glass.
I tossed the burning contents down my throat.
“That asshole, Johnny borderline, stalked me for years. All because he wanted me to play for the San Francisco Forty-niners. I lost my girl over this bullshit scandal. Not to mention every fucking endorsement I had.” My jaw twitched.
I could feel my heart constricting in my chest.
“Wyatt, you don’t have to lift a finger. Just give me the word.”
“No.” I slammed my open palm on the table.
He rested his elbow on the table and tapped his thick, black brow. “Let me get this right, you don’t want to inflict pain on this bastard?”
“Nickulas.”
“Call me Nick.”
“Nick, I want to be there.”
Uncle Bo returned, sitting a bowl of soup in front of each of us.
“How’s it going?”
Nick sat back in his chair. “Bo, I thought my father took care of the problem with the Forty-niners.”
“He did.”
“What?” My brows deepened.
Anger coursed through my veins. What did Uncle Bo do?
His olive skin turned a hue of dark red. He ran a hand over his gruff chin as he sat between us.
“Julianno heard whispers that the Forty-niners planned to draft you as their number one pick. I told him under no circumstances could that happen. Julianno told the owner if he loved his family, he’d let you go. The owner spoke to Johnny. Told him they were going another route. And you went on to play for the Falcons.”
I threaded my fingers through my hair. “Maybe Johnny abided by the owner’s order for a few years, because he’s back at it. That bastard ruined my life.”
I turned my attention to my cousin.
“Nick, I want to be there.”
Uncle Bo grabbed my arm. “No,” he scowled.
“Your dad will kill me if I let you get too deep.”
Dad knew. I thought back to his chill persona the day of the draft.
My heart sank. They pulled strings behind my back.
I narrowed my eyes and curled my fists as I stared through my uncle.
He removed his hand. “Bruno said you told him you had to play in Atlanta.”
I remembered standing in the loft, peering across the street into my neighbors’ yard. Paralyzed by the beautiful young woman dressed in a stunning navy gown, posing for pictures with her prom date, made my blood boil and my lip twitch. Even though I knew he wouldn’t sleep with her that night, anger still coursed through my veins, because I wanted to be the man taking her to prom.
She glanced up at me and smiled. My heart slammed against my ribcage as I flashed a grin.
“Wyatt, we paused the movie. We’re waiting for you. Are you coming?” Dad’s heavy hand landed on my shoulder.
“Oh, I see. Lakelyn’s off to prom. Did you tell her how you felt about her?”
“Yes. Dad...I need to play football in Atlanta,” I stated, through bared teeth.
He gripped my shoulder tighter. “Ok.”
I palmed my face, realizing what the weight of that statement had on my dad that day.
“He told you I didn’t want to play elsewhere because of Lakelyn. Didn’t he?”
Uncle Bo shook his head. “Yes.”
Grabbing his neck, I pulled him into a bear hug. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. Family looks out for each other.” He sat back and smiled at Nick.
“Isn’t that right?”
“It sure is.”
“Like I said, I need to be there. That motherfucker needs to see my face. Be at my mercy. I told him there was no way in hell I’d play for him, not even if my career went up in smoke. He made that shit happen for shits and giggles. He’d rather see me benched or released from the Falcons. All because I won’t play for the Forty-niners.”
“Got that Italian blood running through your veins,” he snickered.
He rubbed his clean-shaven jaw. “When do you want to make this happen?”
“Keep eyes on the women and Johnny. Since a roomful of people saw me lift Johnny off of his feet, it’s best we wait until after the first game. During that time, scare the women into making a statement, too. They need to tell the world they lied.”
“Sounds easy enough.” He shoved a heaping spoon of soup into his mouth.
I had to ask. “Why didn’t you come to any of our family functions?”
“Because your side of the family’s in the spotlight. My cousin is Wyatt Oakley, wide receiver for the Atlanta Falcons, for heaven sakes. I can’t broadcast that to the world. Neither one of us wants heat on us. If you visit us in Jersey, we’ll keep it on the DL. You have enough problems right now. You don’t want to add mob ties to your list of troubles.”
“I guess you’re right. I’d like to bring my girlfriend Lakelyn to meet my family after the season ends.”
“We’d love to have you.”
“Thanks for everything, Nick. Like Bo said, we’re family. We take care of our own.”
**P**
I’d performed like a machine over the last few weeks in training camp. My entire focus was on the game. It was all I had left.
Off the field was an entirely different story. Head in my hands after practice, I sat on the bench, pondering on how badly I wanted to see Lakelyn. My shoulders felt lighter knowing I’d take care of Johnny soon.
“Oakley, nice play out there.” Coach patted my back.
I tossed my gloved hand over my brows, blocking the sun as I smiled up at him.
“Thanks, coach Evans.”
“Meet me in my office.”
My teammate Josh taunted me. “Daddy wants to see you in his office.”
The other guys laughed.
I flipped him the middle finger as I walked off the field.
They were just busting my balls.
I strolled into his office.
“Yes, coach.”
He pecked away at his keyboard behind his desk.
“Have a seat.”
I sat my black helmet in the chair beside me.
“On the field, you’re kicking ass. Looks like you’re ready for our first game.”
“I am, sir.”
“How are you doing off the field?” He tossed his cap on the desk and ran a hand over his blond hair.
“Honestly, it’s been rough. As you know, I’ve lost all my endorsements because of this scandal.”
I rubbed my brow. “And I lost my woman. Those women are lying. I never slept with them.”
“You’re one of my best players. Hire a private investigator to handle the problem. It will keep your stress levels down.”
He slapped the desk. “Because I need you to show up Sunday.”
I had a private investigator, all right. The Pitucco mafia crime family. My family. “You can count on me, Coach.”
**P**
My routine had become mundane. Each day after training, I spent hours lifting weights. Deacon didn’t call once. When he was ready to talk, I’d tell him how much I loved his sister and how I’d do anything for her. Hopefully, one day we’d be able to repair our friendship.