The worst part? Bruno was powerless to do anything about it. Proof was what he didn’t have. Told to leave it alone. It angered him more than anything had or possibly would ever again. He vowed, never again to trust a man who wasn’t his own blood like his father had trusted his best friend.
Bruno glanced at his brother but Gunz didn’t meet his eyes. He chomped bitterly, uncomfortably, on his scrambled eggs like it had been made with sand or kitty litter.
They ate in silence by themselves. It had been this way since the shooting.
Just as Bruno stood to leave, he was stunned to see his mother come through the kitchen door. He was even more shocked to see that she was fully dressed.
Martina hadn’t shown her face much, hadn’t left the house, hadn’t worn anything but pajamas since their father died. Bruno stared at her for a moment. The first thing he noticed was that her hair was tied back from her face rather than curled to her shoulders. Very rare. And her face wasn’t made up like it usually was and the dark circles under her eyes showed like a fresh punch to both cheeks. But in her glassy eyes, he saw athe-show-must-go-onstrength behind her shimmering tears.
It shouldn’t have surprised him at all. That was mom through and through.
Bruno looked over at his brother. “Pull out a chair for mom, Gu—Charlie,” he said. Addressing his brother by his street moniker, Gunz was strictly forbidden in the family home. It always seemed rather odd to Bruno… Odd, that his father had no qualms about his sons joining the mafia; had no issue with a life that would be their destruction, but to bring their work home with them in any way ? home to women and children...innocents ? well, that was the true crime in dad’s eyes.
When Gunz looked up from his toast to meet his mothers’ eyes, he jumped to his feet and dragged out a chair. “Sit down, mom.”
Bruno went over to her and looped one arm with hers then escorted her over to the table. Her body felt bony and moved slow and weak. He suspected she hadn’t eaten in the past seven days. When she sat down, Bruno fetched a fresh mug and poured her a black coffee from the pot.
The two men watched her intently as she took a sip.
When she placed the mug gently down, she looked them both dead in the eyes. “Your Uncle Gabriel and cousin Marco will be paying us a visit this morning.” She took another sip of her drink. “I gave him my word that we were okay but he wouldn’t take it.”
Bruno and Charlie glanced at each other, then nodded at their mother. Until now, she hadn’t allowed any visitors since the incident.
Bruno opened his mouth to ask if this was the only reason their uncle Gabriel was coming around today, but when the housekeeper came into the room with a steaming plate of breakfast for Martina, he closed it.
Martina ate in silence as her two sons had done.
When Bruno saw tears streaming down her cheeks as she ate, he wanted to take her hand but he knew she wouldn’t accept it. Neither he nor Charlie said a word, tried to hide their awareness. It simply wasn’t the way in their family.
Twenty or so torturous minutes later, the doorbell sounded. Both men stood up and waited while the housekeeper led Gabriel and Marco from the front door to the dining area. Marco and his father stepped into the room, looking every bit the Italian gangsters they were.
Well-dressed, Gabrielwore his suits crisp, his greying hair stylish, slicked-back. He had an air of authority and always acted as smooth as he looked. “What’s for breakfast?” he asked, heading for the chair beside Bruno’s mother.
A ghost of a smile passed Martina’s lips and she got up to fetch two more coffee cups from the cupboard.
The four men gathered around the table and waited for Martina.
Bruno gave his cousin a singular nod in greeting and watched as he twisted his gold ring on his pinkie finger. Marco, at twenty-two was a junior version of his genius father, with dark pitbull circles under his eyes and broad shoulders.
When Martina sat down, Gabriel smoothly took out a handkerchief from his suit pocket and gave it to her. Getting right down to the point, Gabriel, who waved his hands when he talked, wasted no time in explaining precisely why he was here…..He looked Bruno and Charlie dead in the eyes and narrowed his eyes into an iron glare.
Bruno glanced at his mother and recognized the look on her face that told him she was hiding something. She knewexactlywhat was about to go down.
“First off, I’m deeply sorry for the loss you and your mother are suffering. Second, I know that I must do as my brother would have wished. Don’t think I’m not aware of the way you two have been earning a living….” He shook his head. “Jacking cars with the nonchalance of opening a can of soda. I tolerated it before, but things are different now. You don’t have your father to protect you. That responsibility falls into my hands now, and I’ll do what I need ...to make sure you’re safe.”
Bruno scoffed. “With all due respectuncle, what makes you think I need anyone’s protection?”
Gabriel growled. “This ain’t a game, kid. The mob always comes first, that’s the rules. If you don’t’ do as they ask, they’ll retire you…shoot you in the back of the head and leave you where you dropped. If you join the mob, you’d better make peace with the fact you’re going to die. It’s inevitable. You’re going to die, or if you’re lucky, you’re going to jail. Those are the two consistent facts on the streets. Your father was a smart man. That’s why he lived to the age of 63.”
“The mob is worth more than that, and you know it.” It made Bruno feel he was part of this family where they are all friends, all brothers, and they all helped each other. “It also strikes me as odd that you hold such hostile feelings towards the mafia when they’re responsible for so much of your income,” Bruno said with an inward grin.
Gabriel’s nostrils flared.
Bruno glanced over at Marco, but he sat there expressionless, nodding along with his father’s words.
Gabriel sat quietly for a moment as the four sipped coffee companionably. Then, he reached a hand inside his coat, pulled out a sealed envelope and said, “I want you to take this and put your son through school.”
Martina looked at the envelope silently, a little surprised, and waited for him to explain. “My son? You mean mysons, surely?”
