“Dad, I’m not in the fucking mood right now.”

Dad sent a message while I was in the kitchen with Leah. I’ll give her time to reflect on what she said to me earlier. I’ll give her the chance to figure out how she’s going to move forward with this. I was fucking reasonable about it all. If it were anyone else, I would have tortured them and asked questions later.

Fuck!

Why am I so soft with her?

I feel as if she brings out another man in me. One I don’t want to face at the worst of times. I need to keep my distance as I try and figure out what to do next. Do I keep her here until she tells me the truth?

That isn’t a fucking option or a question because it’s exactly what I need to do.

“Marco, are you listening?”

Not really.

“What is it, Dad?”

He wants my cousin and me to talk on Videochat, and the only thing I want to do is get a taste of Leah’s sweet pussy. I’m debating if fucking the truth out of her is the better option.

“We’re here, and you’re not saying anything worth listening to?”

I could do small talk. Ask how he is? I haven’t spoken to him in a few weeks, but I speak to Mom on a daily basis and my sister too, whenever she’s available. Something’s happened no doubt, and I wouldn’t say no to him normally, but today’s not a good day. It’s fucking awful.

“Marco if you stopped and listened for five minutes then you’ll know that I’m not making this call for no reason. I couldn’t think of anything else than a conversation on chat.”

Shit, that means something is wrong.

One thing about the old man, he hates technology. He can quote some men that are locked up as a result of it. He used to sit and tell me stories about all the crimes they used to be able to get away with before technology became too advanced. He always misses the part of the story which involves technology helping them to commit more crimes. What the mob did before cells were invented is still beyond my comprehension.

How did they get away when the police or even their enemies were on their way?

He’s explained it to me a few times, but I still can’t get my head around it.

“There’s someone that I need taken care of, and it affects the pair of you.”

I choke out, “Why?”

Dad avoids looking at me as he speaks. It’s clear that someone’s fucked up, but I can’t think what it has to do with me. Not now. I haven’t been in the business for years, and I have no intention of going back.

“That Steven Wilks. I think that you brought him in, Marco.”

I hate when Dad does this, he fucking knows I brought Steven in. He’s making out like it’s a casual mention when we both know he’s mentioning his name for a reason. He’s calling me to him for the same reason and sooner rather than later; he’ll tell me exactly what’s on his mind.

“And?”

“Marco is that all you can say? And?”

Valentino who’s been on the call and been very quiet until now says quietly, “He raped a girl. Not just any girl, but he fucking said that he was working for us."

He’s thinking of a cover, but I know it doesn’t matter because this must be the mess that Dad’s calling me about. The real reason he’s on the other end of the line. It’s not to ask about my welfare or even to ask me to come back to the business. He wants me to clear up my mess.

“You wanted him in. You said that he was a good guy.”

I nod as I think about the past. Steven was one of those young guys that clinch on to the business like a leech. He helped me figure out what was going on with my wife, a sensitive matter and I felt as if I owed him my life. Ever since then, I’d given him everything he needed, I watched her and tracked her like a moth to a flame and I was burned in the end. But I wanted him to have everything he wanted as a means of repayment. That was until he got greedy. He used my weakness as a means to do whatever he pleased. He rubbed people up the wrong way, and he’d always say the same thing in his defense, ‘You got an issue talk to Marco.’

Which meant that Dad was telling me to clear up the mess. Something he did from time-to-time.

“He’s fucked. Raped another and every single time someone wants to teach him a fucking lesson. You know what he fucking says? The card that he leaves to do whatever he wants is your fucking name. Valentino wanted to deal with him. I said to him that he should leave him alone and let Marco fucking finish what he started. Capisce?”

I nod my head and then start pacing around my office. I’m stuck on an island with a girl that could have been sent to kill me. Or worse still, she’s taken it on board to punish me herself because of something I’ve done.

I’ve got Valentino pissed that the guy I brought in has fucked one of his girls and raped his wife. A complete disrespect that no one does, but then someone like Steven’s done it not because I’ve given him the green light to take what he wants, but because he’s felt like he can do whatever he likes because I’m protecting him.

I haven’t spoken to him in around three years. Since Silvia died and since I’d left the business. I told him I was retiring, but why should he care? He had such a good thing going, and now he’s all out to take full advantage. And so far, he’s doing a good job of that and upsetting one too many people as a result of it.

I stare at the screen for a minute and realize that things are going to get out of hand, if I don’t put a stop to it. Steven has a wife, Dad and Valentino won’t just kill Steven, they’ll go after the whole family if I don’t put a stop to it.

“It’s my fucking mess. I’ll deal with it.” I sigh as I stop to look at the screen.

“You have until Tuesday, and if you don’t, then I’ll do it.” With those words, Valentino hangs up.

Dad just shakes his head. “Son, what’s got into you? Did you become soft after Silvia died?”

I slump in the chair thinking about Dad’s words. This is the first time in a long time that he’s tried to talk to me. Not shout. Not swear, but just talk. I nod my head and know it’s time for me to step up.

“You wanted out of this business, but as I said to you before, Marco. There’s no getting out of it. This is in your blood.”

Now, I’m the one hanging up. Just because I’m part of the Raco family doesn’t make me a monster. I’ve had blood on my hands before; this won’t be the first and last time that I do it, but I don’t want to be a part of this anymore. I didn’t back then, and I certainly don’t want to right now.