Nico is looking at me in a way that suggests he’s seeing me for the first time.Great.Now I’ve managed to alienate the one friend I have here.
“All right,” he finally says, slapping his knees and leaning back.“Get cleaned up.We’re going somewhere.”
I shake my head.“I’m in no mood to go party.”
Plus, the last time I went out with him, I ended up an indentured servant to Goldie’s father.A life sentence.Just as these wet dreams I’m having of her might prove to be.Pure torture.
“We’re not going to a party,” Nico says.“There’s someone I want you to meet.”
“I don’t got time for women either,” I say and reach for the bottle of vodka in the middle of the marble table.
“Not a woman,” he says.
“I don’t want to meet no guy either,” I say and pour myself a quadruple vodka.
“You want to meet this guy,” Nico says.“He can give you what you want… and make all your other dreams come true.”
“You make him sound like Santa Claus, or something,” I say.“But he doesn’t exist.”
“Stop fucking around, Matteo.This is serious.”
And I can hear it in his voice that it really is.He’s usually a lighthearted, breezy sort of guy, more like a Californian than a New Yorker where mannerisms are concerned, but his whole face is a mask of stone right now.
“Who is it?”
“He’s someone that wants to take down the bosses,” Nico says.“And if you prove useful to him, he’s also someone who can lift you up.”
Now that sounds all kinds of ominous.Nico has given me no sign that he wasn’t loyal to the organization and the status quo until now.And I don’t know what exactly he’s talking about, but I don’t waste any time asking questions.I just get ready as fast as I can.I’m ready to meet this man of my dreams.Even if he fails to deliver, it’s still better than wallowing in useless rage.At least it’s a step forward.
* * *
A fast carride later in Nico’s Lamborghini and we’re parked in front of an imposing old mansion in Long Island.The garden around it is overgrown, the house is dark, and I can hear the ocean all around me, waves crashing against rock.The place reminds me of Dante Moretti’s house back in LA so much that a part of me wants to turn around and run.And keep running until everything that has anything to do with this life is so far behind me, I barely remember it anymore.
Instead, I follow Nico to the front door, the creaking wooden steps leading to it renewing my urge to get the hell out of here and never look back.I stuff it down with all the other things that will never happen.If this is my ticket to getting back everything my family lost, then I’m grabbing it with both hands.
Two guards, one on either side of the porch briefly appear out of the shadows as the light over the front door comes on.They’re armed with Uzis.Another sign that this is as serious as it gets.I wish Nico had told me a little more about what we’re walking into here, but he wouldn’t answer any of my questions on the way over and it’s too late for questions now.
The door opens and an older man, wearing a white shirt and suspenders opens the door.He’s at least my father’s age when he died, but still looks like he could take a few men half his age.My father looked like that too, but looks were deceptive in his case.
“Come in, Mr.Ferro is expecting you,” the man says and walks off into the darkness across the circular foyer, his dress shoes clicking on the black and white tile floor.
We’re led into a study with dark wood paneling on the walls, black leather sofas, and a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.Cigar and cigarette smoke hangs heavy in the air, and the room is lit only by a few table lamps, so I have trouble estimating how many people are actually in the room.
Turns out it’s just Ferro.As we enter, he stands up from one of the leather sofas, a cigar hanging from his fingers.He doesn’t need much light to be illuminated perfectly, even though he’s all dark, from his eyes and hair to the suit he’s wearing.His eyes glow in the darkness, worse than even my own crazed ones did earlier.
“Is this the guy you told me about?”Ferro asks Nico, while giving me a once over.The expression in his eyes suggests he expected more.
“Yes, this is Matteo Rovina,” Nico says.“And this is Angelo Ferro, the head of the Ferro family.”
He steps from around the sofa and more into the light.He seemed older before, now I see he can’t be much older than me, maybe thirty-five tops.Young to be the head of his family.But then again, so am I.
I shake his hand as he offers it, but otherwise say nothing.A part of me still wants to run from this house and the handshake just solidified that notion as something Imustdo.But another thing came through too.The grinding of things falling into place, like when you switch gears of a car to go faster and the car just flies.I’m in the right place.Whether by ruin’s design or by that little bit of luck I can sometimes count on is anyone’s guess though.
“Nico tells me you’re working for Codelli,” Angelo says as he sits back down on the sofa and motions for us to join him.
I sit in the armchair across from him.It’s much firmer than I expected it to be given all that padding.
“I’m the bodyguard to his daughters.”
