“Mio figlio!” My son, he says in Italian with excitement. “There you are!” My dad raises his hand ushering for me to sit down and grab some cards. I take a seat but raise my hand in refusal of playing a hand of poker. Last time I participated I cleaned my father out and he took it poorly, throwing the entire table over and pointing his Berretta at everyone to leave. I don’t need the dramatics tonight, I just need to know if he has any jobs.
My dad sits back in his chair, taking a large drag from his cigar and stares at me. Using his hand, he scratches at his big nose.
He’s going to make a big deal of me not wanting to play a hand.
“You got somewhere to be, Kieran?” His voice rough and angry.
Cracking my neck, I try not to groan in frustration. Why does he have to pull this shit? I swear it’s because he knows if he’s taken out, I’m up next for the throne.
I intimidate him.
“Everyone up on their payments?” I change the subject.
He sets his cigar down in a glass ashtray and looks to Tony. “You get the impression that this kid thinks he’s big shit?”
Tony squints in my direction as if he’s studying me. Fact of the matter is whatever my father says, where Tony is concerned it is law. “Yeah, I do,” he rasps even though I knew he would confirm my father’s suspicions, it still makes me want to slit his throat for lack of honesty. Integrity is everything in my world. He lacks it, but that is why he will never be a true boss.
“I don’t. I just want to get to work,” I explain, resting my arm on the ash-covered table as I stare back. If he wants to fight, I’ll fight him. But he will not win.
“You think you can take me? My own son?” Dad points to his chin, his voice calm.
I sit there, looking at him. My uncles glaring at me. Is he seriously this bored or delusional to think this is smart? This is nothing more than a waste of my time.
“Enough,” I mutter, trying to diffuse the embarrassment he’s casting upon us. I sometimes think this is why my mother is a drunk these days. Because of us, she can’t stand to see us like this.
His tough-guy features fall, and he begins to chuckle. Tony, Leo, and Gio laughing along. “Yeah, he knows who his daddy is,” Dad murmurs, looking at the cards in his hand.
A tight-lipped look on my face, I stare back at him with flaring nostrils. My fingers curling in on themselves as a burning rage flares up my neck making the vessels pump harder. Everything is a damn joke to him.
I don’t do humor. I don’t have time for his crazy shit. Sometimes I just want to place a gun to the back of his head and take over the family business. Be done with his shenanigans and the mockery he places upon me and the family. What my grandfathers built before us is something powerful and he takes advantage of it.
He picks up his cigar and places it into the corner of his mouth. His tobacco-stained teeth chomping down on it. “I sent some soldiers over to Tina’s—”
“The salon?” I interrupt.
“Yeah, she hasn’t paid and kneed one of the kids before getting away.”
I remember being that kid, having to collect payments, and I got kicked in the nuts weekly from some ass-hat before they took off. Fucking balls swell two sizes and are tender for days. It sucks, but we all have to start somewhere.
“Tell the kid to use frozen peas.” I smile, remembering the days that weren’t that long ago.
“Anyway, time to remind her what she’s paying us for,” Dad says, slapping down a full house.
Tony, Gio, and Leo all groan, putting down their shitty cards.
I stand, sliding my hands through my hair. Tina’s place is a complicated area, it’s borderline with Harlem, which is the Bravado’s territory. Not that they’ve been active for years, but it’s the principle. We stay on our side, they stay on theirs.
“You got it,” I accept the order.
The salon has been a client of ours for years now, trophy wives coming and spending the highest dollar to look great for their dumb fuck husbands, the place is packed with expensive shit. Being so close to Harlem it attracts some unlawful clients. We’ve made sure to protect Tina, even sending men to sit at the door if needed.
It’s not personal, it’s business.
Heading up the steps, I move into the galley and stop in front of the fridge. I pull open the freezer and tug it one last time until it’s off the tracks and a bunker of weapons shine. I grin seeing them.
“There you are,” I whisper, grabbing an AP-9. The forward magazine in my hand makes me feel unstoppable. I love this fucking gun. I got it from a gun swap down in North Carolina several months back. Putting the freezer back together, I begin whistling as I walk through the yacht, gun still in my hand, a couple of half-naked girls sitting on the couch go silent as I walk by. Their swimsuits bright in color and little in material. I don’t know if dad sleeps with them, or if they’re here for my uncles and I don’t want to know. I hate lying to my mother, so I just wink at them and head back to the docks. The fucking smell of fish taking over the smell of my dad’s cigar and my uncle’s cologne. Lights in the parking lot grab my attention. A Lincoln Navigator parks next to my car and I raise an eyebrow. My shoes pad along the dock, my shadow slipping across the water as I make my way back to the parking lot. I spot an old metal bat all beat up and dented laying on the end of a boat. I stop, grab it and swirl it around before continuing my way to my car. Finally back on land, I see my brother leaning against the Navigator. His hair in his eyes, face clean-shaven.
My father has men that counsel him, that lend him advice on certain things. Romeo is my counsel. He keeps his distance from our dad, their relationship is toxic. Dad always wants more from Romeo, and Romeo is well… he’s a man with a heart. He has a conscience which a man in our position can’t have. There’s no room for feelings or second thoughts doing what we do and no matter how hard dad is on Romeo, he’s still merciful. That’s why I keep him by my side. However, those who don’t know him would say he’s the quietest man in the room when he’s around and they’d be right. Romeo is a mute as far as the public is concerned. Emotionally damaged and broken inside and out. I think I might be the only one who fully understands him.
“Ready to do a job?” I ask him. The smile that crosses his face is contagious, making me grin.
“Whose ride we taking?”
Leona
I politely smile at the auctioneer who is thanking me for my appearance, my right hand holding up my black sequined dress to keep it from trailing along the rough ground and tearing the threads. Not that I care, I’d rather be home in my sweatpants watching Netflix then be here bidding on art I can’t comprehend.
A black limo pulls up and my mom steps in front of me. Her hair pinned up with pearls, her dress matching. Though her bust could be a little tighter, her tits look like they’re about to fall out.
The driver opens the door and she slips in delicately. I have to remember to act like a lady and dip down, sit and then scoot over instead of just crawling onto the seat.
When the doors close, enveloping my mother and I back into our private lives, I pull out the pin holding my hair up, allowing my ink trundles falling free. A deep sigh reverting my body.