December 13th
Giovanni Marcello typically liked when Christmas rolled around. It was the only time of the year when everyone settled a bit, relaxed, and had some fun. He was always up for fun.
This year, however, was proving to be very different.
He balanced the cell phone between his shoulder and ear as he unlocked the front door to his Amityville home. Before he even picked up his father’s call, he knew Antony was about to shove something else into his lap.
It had been one thing after another this year.
“Get to the point, Papa,” Gio said.
Antony grumbled a warning under his breath and a quick, “Should have just waited until the morning to call you.”
“That would have been appreciated.”
It was closing in on eleven at night. Gio had been from one end of New York City to the other from morning until evening. Life did not seem to want to slow down for him at the moment, and he really needed a few spare minutes to breathe.
Or to spend loving his wife.
To talk to his son.
Something.
Stepping inside his house, the first thing he noticed was that the lights were off and the place was quiet. Gio cursed internally, knowing Kim had likely run around like a chicken with her head cut off all day between Andino and planning that goddamn Christmas party.
He had meant to get home earlier and help her with their son—Andino wasn’t always a handful, but he certainly liked attention—but shit came up. Something was always fucking coming up lately.
At least with the lights off and the house quiet, he could safely assume Kim had managed to wrangle their kid into bed. Hopefully, without much trouble.
“I would like for you to handle Dante’s responsibilities until after the New Year rolls around,” Antony finally said.
Gio kicked his Italian loafers into a corner. “Seriously?”
“He’s not going to admit he needs a break. He’s been in a mood for a good month. Now, he’s snapping at everybody, and it’s … Well, Jesus, he needs to relax.”
“We all need to relax!”
“You know how hard your brother works, Gio,” Antony said quietly.
Okay, that was true enough. As the boss of the Marcello Cosa Nostra, Dante’s plate was constantly overflowing with business to handle. As was Gio’s, as his older brother’s consigliere. Not to mention Lucian’s, as the family’s underboss. They were all busy—minus Lucian, but Gio gave him a break considering his current state.
“His mood has been worsening,” Antony pointed out.
Well, that was true, too.
Gio couldn’t deny it.
Fuck.
Gio shrugged off his jacket, and hung it on a waiting hook. “Well, yeah, but that doesn’t change what I said, either.”
“Listen, it’s the holidays, son. Dante keeps me informed, so I know what’s happening. His tribute for the month is already done. The Capos are quiet with Christmas coming up. There’s not a lot of business going on. He has a meeting coming up with the Donati boss—Calisto—for something or other. It’ll be easy. The guys will just defer to you.”
“Dad.”
“What?”
“They’re already deferring to me,” Gio said with a heavy sigh. “Because of Lucian being in fucking lockup.”
“You don’t need to swear.”
“I kind of feel like I do.”
Antony muttered something too low for Gio to understand before adding louder, “I’m asking you to do this for your brother.”
“Adding onto all the stuff I already am doing,” Gio replied. “My family, all the shit for the holidays, and working to get Lucian out of jail in time for Christmas. You’re killing me here, Dad. Give me a break, please.”
“One man at a time, Gio. You will get yours.”
Gio scowled at the mirror showcasing his frustrated expression. “I better.”
Antony chuckled. “All in due time. So you will handle this for Dante, then?”
“Did he put you up to this?”
“No,” Antony admitted.
Gio cocked a brow. “Have you even told him?”
“He’s not going to realize how much he needs this until it’s given. Call it a gift. I don’t give a damn, honestly.”
“Yeah, well, you know Dante.”
“I do,” Antony grumbled.
“So good luck with that, Papa.”
“Mmm. Good night, Gio.”
“Night.”
Gio hung up the call, and tried to ignore the suddenly overwhelming sensation of heaviness that came to rest upon his shoulders. Years ago, he didn’t mind telling people no. He had been pretty damn good at it, actually.
Now, not so much.
Especially not when it came to his family.
Gio found his wife sleeping on the couch in the living room. Kim didn’t even stir as he leaned over the back of the couch to peer down at her. He stroked her cheekbone with two fingers, happy and still for a moment. He almost wanted to wake her up, but decided better of it because she too had a lot on her plate.
Besides, his wife knew …
She always knew how Gio was with family, life, and everything else. A little more piled on wasn’t going to be very much of a surprise to her.
A live Christmas tree stood in the corner of the living room. The tip nearly grazed the ten foot high ceiling. Spread around the bare tree were opened boxes of decorations. Considering the few scattered ornaments on the coffee table, Gio figured his wife had probably fallen asleep in an attempt to decorate the massive thing.
He decided to help.
He had a few minutes, after all.
Gio went about unpacking the gold and red decorations. Kim tended to favor those colors, he learned. Every Christmas, their home was a gold and red Christmasland. The only green that was ever found was on the tree, garlands, and wreath on the front door.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed as he put the finishing golden bows around the branches just the way he knew Kim liked, but he thought a couple of hours. Plugging in the cord for the white lights, the tree lit up from bottom to top.
At the tip, a golden star blinked slowly.
He then started packing up the empty boxes. At least then, Kim wouldn’t wake up to another mess to clean. Her final decorating—their tree—was done, and she could mark that off her list. She didn’t need to be picking up after this mess, too.
It was only then that Gio noticed the scrap of paper on the coffee table as well. He instantly recognized the messy, child-like writing as his son’s. Andino wasn’t a very good speller, but he was confident. He sounded out words, and got them pretty close to how they should be spelled, for the most part. He was ahead of his class in that regard.
Gio read down the paper.
Dear Santa, it started.
A couple of remote control trucks. A book his son wanted. Something for Johnathan—Andino’s cousin, Lucian’s son, and his boy’s best friend. It amused Gio to no end that Andino had thought to ask Santa for something for Johnathan.
His dad wud be good, Andino had written next to it.
Then, at the end, Andino had put, And a whale, please. Seawurd has dem.
He was pretty sure his son had meant to write SeaWorld. Gio laughed, but it quickly died. He was not going to be able to get his son a whale, or even a viewing of one. Those attractions were long closed because it was practically torture to the animals being in captivity like that.
How could he explain that to his kid, though?
Gio’s countdown was on.
Twelve days to figure something out for Andino that would satisfy his newest obsession.
Add that to my list.