“You could not kill me before. I will be damned if I let you kill me now. Or anyone that I love.”
Those words burned me to my fucking core. I could tell when she had been looking at Vito—the rat that had been hiding in our trash—she had been remembering Junior, reliving what had happened to her.
Every so often, I’d pull out the picture Anna had taken of her after Junior had beaten her in Italy, so I’d feel the fire of what he’d done to her in my bones. I would trace the silver scars left on her face from his fist some nights. Each one was a reflection of what could be seen in the picture.
She would only speak about what Junior had done to her when I brought it up.
I had an uncle who would only speak of war when asked. He’d give few details, and after, it was over. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore.
Alcina gave off those same vibes whenever I mentioned it.
If I could go back and kill both of the fuckers again, I would, but since it was impossible to die twice—for most of us—there was nothing I could do but watch her. Watch her to make sure she was not slipping too far away from me.
We were at the park with Eleonora. Alcina wanted to get her out of the house, and since I’d been paranoid ever since Vito, I hadn’t let either one of them out of my sight.
It was the only time I didn’t think about that Machiavellian motherfucker and getting rid of him. Though at night, Vittorio Scarpone’s blood haunted me like a ghost. It taunted and teased me.
I couldn’t even find a picture of the man he once was. Which was fucking strange in itself. We lived in an age when information was readily available at the tap of a key, but there was nothing on the former Prince of New York?
Yeah, I wasn’t fucking buying it. So I got in touch with one of my associates. His kid was on house arrest for hacking into one of the most popular social media platforms. He took down pictures of all the government officials and replaced them with cartoon characters. He got caught because he told a girl he wanted to impress—who happened to be the daughter of an elected official he made into Goofy—that he’d done it.
I checked my watch. He was meeting me at the park in an hour. He said he could meet me without a problem. The ankle bracelet was only an irritant.
I sighed as I relaxed on the bench, making sure the men were around but staying back. I was fairly certain Alcina and Eleonora were going to be safe in this life that I lived now. Most men didn’t fuck with women—the wives and the children. Occasionally we had rogues like Silvio and Vito, and the Scarpones, but usually, we kept it amongst ourselves. If anything, we watched out for each other’s families.
The sun hit me in the eye and I sat up some, grinning as I watched Anna dance around with her camera, trying to make Eleonora smile while Alcina held her.
After what happened, Alcina’smammaand Anna refused to leave. I could see hermammawas more paranoid, her eyes more watchful of her daughters and granddaughter.
Since Anna refused to leave, too, her husband had showed up.
Fabrizio Pappalardo was not about this life. Not even in Italy. His family did a certain thing—they grew pistachios—and that’s all he was ever expected to do, but when his wife called him and told him she didn’t know when she was coming home, he came to me once he arrived in New York.
“Make me one of you,” he’d said.
I’d sat back in my chair and shook my head without even thinking twice. “No.”
There was more to it than just being made into what we were, but that was beside the point.
He blinked at me for a second before he narrowed his eyes. “Any guy on the street can do it,” he said.
“True,” I said. “But a lot of those guys die for stupid mistakes. You’d have to become something I can sense you’re not.”
“My wife was hurt,” he said. I could see the fire in his eyes, and my level of respect for him went up a notch.
I nodded. “I take responsibility for that,” I said. “I gave my men specific orders, and it was because of that they didn’t know he got in. The alarm didn’t go off. My grandmother gave the code to someone she thought she could trust. It won’t happen again.”
“I will be here for a while,” he said.
“You’ll enjoy New York,” I said. “Spend time with your wife. Take her to the opera. To catch a show on Broadway. You’ll do things. Keep busy.”
“I am not a man to ask twice,” he said. “I can do this.”
“Listen,” I said, sitting forward. “You’re angry. I understand. You have every right to be. But if I take you into this life—” I lifted my finger. “One, the fucker is dead, so there will be no revenge.” I lifted my middle finger. “Two, my wife will never forgive me, because if something happens to you, it’ll come back on me. Your wife will want me dead. My wife will take her side. And that is fucking that.Finito.”Finished.
I relaxed in my seat. “And if you haven’t noticed, my wife has it in for me for something else. And no matter who I am in this life, I might not be able to help you if you do something stupid that will cost you your life. Rules are rules. It’s that simple.”
He thought about this and then nodded. “I noticed you do not get along with too many people,” he said.
