“I’d like you to become more involved in the family business,” Dad continues.
My eyes close like a camera lens refocusing. A thousand emotions hit me at once. There is terror; I don’t want to be more involved in the family business. Pride fills me because I’m glad my father considers me worthy. There is disappointment because I don’t know what this will mean for my blossoming relationship with Sofia. And there is anxiety because I’m not sure if I will be any good in the role.
“What were you thinking?” I ask, trying to be tactful. I don’t want him to know that I’m so conflicted, but I need more information.
“I’d like you to spend some more time with Gio,” Dad replies.
“Okay,” I agree rapidly. I like Uncle Gio. To some people, he can seem intimidating, but to me, he’s always been a teddy bear.
“He can walk you through a typical day,” Dad explains. “I’d like you to get out there and meet some of our…assets.”
I’m not sure what he means by assets. I’ve met tons of people who are in business with my father, both legitimately and illegitimately. I’ve met politicians and police officers who are probably on the take. I’ve met famous movie stars and sports figures who were eager to prove their loyalty to my father. So, what does he mean by ‘assets’?
I decide to chance asking the question, since I’m obviously not getting out of this room soon. “What do you mean by assets?”
“Some folks we work with,” Dad replies. That’s only slightly clearer and still leaves me wondering about the identity of all these people I’ll be meeting. “Underbosses, Capos, informants, that sort of thing.”
I swallow hard. In my home, it’s common knowledge that my father runs a criminal enterprise. Yet he is remarkably circumspect about his personal involvement. I’ll hear him talk about things like packages being delivered, or certain people needing to see HR. But I’ve never heard him describe the people who work for him as underbosses or informants. There’s really only one way to interpret those words.
“Don’t worry,” he assures me with a smile. “We’ll start you off in the shallow end.”
“Good,” I answer, wincing when my voice cracks. That hasn’t happened since I was a teenager, and it doesn’t sound even remotely confident. I don’t actually want to wade into the shallow end of my father’s enterprise, but it doesn’t look like I have a choice.
“Great,” he says, wrapping up our brief interview.
It looks like I’ve landed the job I’ve been worried about since day one. I know that all who work for my father have been wondering whether I’ll get more involved. They treat me like a prince who may or may not be ascending to the throne.
“I hope you feel ready for this,” my father adds, not quite looking for my input. He gazes up at the ceiling and talks about his own future. “Now with the new baby on the way, I’m considering the possibility of stepping down at some point.”
“Really?” I gasp.
“Don’t tell anyone,” he cautions. “This is still classified.”
He gives me a smile, and I know he loves comparing himself to the President of the United States. Their jobs aren’t exactly similar, but there are some things they have in common. For example, the President has access to military forces that will kill on a moment’s notice. I suspect my father has access to the same thing, albeit much less special ops and more breaking kneecaps. I guess I’m going to find out.
“I won’t say anything,” I promise him.
Now that he’s opened the door to speculate about life after the mafia, my father can’t stop talking. “I was thinking about retiring to our place in Italy. A nice country villa would be a great place to raise a son.”
“Are you sure it’s a son?” I ask, unable to escape a twinge of jealousy.
If the new baby is a boy, and our father really invests time and energy in his upbringing, I’ll become old news. My baby brother might have the kind, attentive, loving father that I never did. Instead, I’ll be running a criminal organization while my father,his beautiful new bride, and their love child are off on vacation together.
“I’m sure,” Dad says, in a way that makes me understand he doesn’t really know.
Marlena isn’t showing yet, and while I don’t know a lot about pregnancy, I’m positive that you can’t know immediately. There must be some doctor’s exam or test that they run to determine if the baby is a boy or a girl. Since Dad hasn’t shared those results, I can assume he’s just being presumptive. He wants a boy. Therefore, he’s going to have a boy.
“Will it be safe for you and Marlena?” I ask. I’ve also heard that the kind of life my father lives is notoriously difficult to get out of. I don’t want to take over operations only to learn that he’s been killed in Italy. What would I do then? I would have to avenge him.
That whole scenario takes up real estate in my brain that I don’t want. I start imagining all the horrible things that I would have to do in the event of an attack on my father. Will I have to vet hitmen? Or will Uncle Gio take care of it all? Will I have to look at pictures of what happened, or could I just accept on faith that the job has been done and leave it at that?
I’m getting ahead of myself.
I take a deep breath, dragging my thoughts back to the present moment. I’m not the leader of the organization yet. I’m not even a soldier. All my father has asked me to do is meet some people and shadow Uncle Gio for a day.
“As safe as anywhere,” my father says. “That’s why it’s important for you not to tell anyone my plans.”
“Of course,” I respond.
