Angelo

Eighteen months later

My cell phone rang, and when Gia saw the name on the Caller ID, she sighed. We were about to walk into one of the many classes we shared. It was our final semester before graduation. I still couldn’t comprehend a Morelli was about to become a college graduate, and it would be me, of all people.

“Give me a second.” I tugged on Gia’s shirt to hold her back from entering the classroom. “I have to take this.”

I never let Gia out of my sight. Not since the night we were shot at by the rent-a-cop. From that day forward, everything in my life had changed. I was more invested in the family business, I loved Gia even harder than before, and my father allowed me to attend Strickland University without a fight. But I had to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. That was the agreement. I never made promises I didn’t intend to keep.

“Duty calls,” Gia deadpanned and flattened her back against the wall next to me, rolling her eyes. “Go ahead. Do their bidding.”

The deeper I delved into the business, the less I could include Gia, which pissed her off to no end. She copped an attitude with me every time my brothers called on me to do their dirty work. Most of the time they were teaching me the lessons forced upon them by my father. It was the Morelli rite of passage.

I raised the phone to my ear, staring into Gia’s eyes, and slipped my fingers between hers. The instant connection I felt with her sparked my skin. No one ever made me feel the way she did. When I was with Gia, I could feel, and not just in a sexual way. It was as if she resurrected the parts of myself I’d lost along the way.

“Yeah,” I said into the phone.

It was my brother, Marco. He was only three years older than me but was aged beyond his years. The men in our family were different. We were bred into this lifestyle. The things we’d done over the years had hardened us, forced us to become unrecognizable, even to ourselves. I was slowly losing myself, bit by bit. Gia couldn’t handle it. It was like watching someone wither away until they deteriorated into nothing.

“Meet me on Broad, on the corner next to the coffee shop,” Marco shouted in my ear. Then, the line went dead.

I couldn’t take my eyes off Gia. She was my one constant in a world full of darkness. No matter how much fucked-up shit I did, she never stopped loving me. And that made me love her even more. My mother and Gia were the only people in my life who loved me unconditionally. Everything with my father and brothers had strings attached.

“I have to go.” I typed out a quick text message to Sonny and slid the phone back into my jeans pocket. “Sonny will look after you. He should be here in the next twenty minutes. Don’t go acting cute again and try to ditch him. I will not be happy. Your safety is all that matters to me.”

“You don’t have to do everything they ask, Angelo. We have a test. The professor isn’t going to excuse you every time your dad needs you.”

I pressed my thumb to her lips to silence her. “Keep it down, G. This is business. My family’s business. One day, this will be your family, too. Don’t start with me again.”

She stuck her tongue out to lick my skin, and I moved my finger away from her mouth.

“You don’t have to be like them. Come to class with me.”

I had Gia to remind me I wasn’t a monster. Well, I was, she didn’t want to see what was right in front of her eyes for all these years. We’d been together since we were kids, and together romantically for over ten years. She was blinded by her love for me. And I was blinded by rage at the thought of anything ever happening to her because of me. But I couldn’t stop the inevitable. Love couldn’t conquer all. The sins of our past would catch up to us sooner or later.

I moved my hand under her chin and brought her lips to mine, giving her a kiss that lasted a few seconds. It was enough to make me think about blowing off my brother.

“I love you,” I breathed against her lips. “Stop being so stubborn and do what you’re told.”

At some point, the ‘I love you’s’ wouldn’t be enough for her. I would need more than words to prove their meaning. But it had to be enough for now.

“I love you, too,” she muttered. “Please be careful.”

“Always,” I promised. At least I tried to be careful. For her. Everything I did was for Gia.

* * *

I met Marco on Broad Street right across from Greek Row and out front of Broad Street Beans, a popular coffee shop on campus. Gia liked to hang out there with some of the friends she’d made at school. I hated the smell of coffee almost as much as I disliked interacting with people our age. I’d spent too much time around adults as a kid that I never knew how to be one.

I could never discuss my extracurricular activities with anyone other than Gia. Some things I kept from her out of fear for her safety. The less people knew about my business dealings, the better. Having someone important in your life was a liability. Gia was always my biggest weakness. Anyone who knew me could see she would be my breaking point. They could get to me through her. That’s why I had her watched twenty-four seven, whether she liked it or not.

We drove for a few blocks before I broke the silence in the car. “Where are we going?”

“To help Pop with an issue,” Marco said, with his eyes on the road.

“Care to elaborate?”

“It’s not pretty. You’ll see when we get there.”

“I had a test today. This couldn’t wait until after school?”

Marco shoved a hand through his black wavy hair then placed it back on the steering wheel and shook his head. “Nope. Pop said to bring you along.”

Marco and I looked so much alike we could have been twins, except his hair was a few inches longer than mine, and he had our dad’s deep brown eyes. I had our mother’s denim color. Our eyes were the one defining characteristic which separated us. Otherwise, we looked almost identical. Even the three years that separated us was unnoticeable, where Pete looked at least five, if not ten, years older than us.

“This is bullshit,” I yelled at no one in particular and punched the glove box. My anger was with my father, not my brother.

“Yo! Do that shit outside of this car, ya hear?”

“Yeah, I fucking hear,” I spat back. “I don’t see what’s so important that you or Pete couldn’t handle it alone.”

“It’s not a matter of us being able to handle the situation. We don’t need you to take care of this problem for us. You’re coming along to learn. One day, you’ll have to make the same hard choices.”

“I would’ve rather learned something in class, not another one of Pop’s fucked-up lessons on the street. I’m almost convinced the old man wants me dead with all the crazy shit he’s been putting me through.”

“How do you think you learn how to deal with the shit that will be thrown in front of you, baby bro? There’s no manual or textbook to teach you how to stop a war between gangs. You have book smarts, something Pete and I never had.” I watched his hands grip tighter on the wheel. “One day you’ll be the right-hand man to the boss, whether that’s Dad, Pete, or me. But you won’t understand how to do what’s necessary if you don’t see for yourself. What you’ll see and do today will stick with you for the rest of your life. Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut.”

We got out of the Mercedes and strolled across the parking lot to a side entrance of an abandoned warehouse. I never asked questions about jobs. There was no point. Morellis followed orders and did what the fuck they were told.

Marco led me through the dank building and into the basement. The smell of burned flesh and turpentine immediately penetrated my nostrils, awakening my senses. I heard a scream that sounded as though it was ripped from a man’s body. I knew before Marco pushed back the plastic tarps for us to enter the open space that someone was being tortured. But I wasn’t prepared for the sight before me.

Gia’s father stood next to my dad, dressed in a navy suit and brown wingtips. He didn’t look like a man who owned Carlini Construction, one of the many companies my dad used to funnel money. Nope, he looked like the man who was running for a spot on the Philadelphia City Council.

Somehow, Lorenzo Carlini had managed to hide his affairs with my father long enough to look legitimate. He wasn’t a Made man, only an associate. Part of the reason my father used Lorenzo’s connections so much was because of his squeaky-clean image. So, why was he here?

My dad acknowledged Marco and me with a nod. That was about as close as I ever got to a hello from the man who gave me his name. Pete had a plastic poncho over his suit, the material now filled with blood splatter. My brother never looked more in his element than when he was hurting someone. He was the most sadistic and fucked-up of us all. While death and punishment were merely a means to an end for my father, my oldest brother reveled in every second of it.

When he was younger, everyone called him Sneaky Pete. Now, he went by the nickname The Carver, a name he’d earned in every way. I watched as Pete sliced into the chest of the man on the metal table, a smile tugging at his mouth with each rip of flesh. He switched between carving his skin like he was slicing a turkey to burning him with a hot iron.

No matter which form of torture he chose, Pete followed each act by dumping a bottle of fluid on the man’s chest. He screamed bloody murder until Pete shoved a rolled up cloth in his mouth. Pete was pouring turpentine into the man’s chest, using it as an antiseptic to make it burn more. I didn’t budge, never flinched. I was desensitized to death and gore.

After twenty minutes, my father raised his hand and said, “Enough.”

One word was all it ever took to snap my brother out of his bloodlust. My old man stepped forward, buttoning his jacket, as he moved to the edge of the paint tarps lining the floor around the table. “Are you ready to do your job? Or do I have to repeat the same warning with your daughter and wife?”

“No, please,” the man choked out between sobs. His face was bright red with tears streaming down his cheeks. “Don’t hurt them. I will do anything.”

My father loosened his black pin-striped tie and tugged on his collar. “I already gave you the chance to do the right thing, and you failed me. You owe this family a favor… a favor I’d expected to be repaid when you asked one of me. Are you not in a position of power because of me? Did I not make you the man you are today?”

The man on the table closed his eyes, his face writhing in pain. “Yes.”

“And did I not tell you I’d come to collect whenever I needed the favor returned?”

“Yes,” the man hissed. “I’m sorry, Angelo. I promise it won’t happen again. The permit will go through. I’ll make sure of it.”

He held out his hand to silence him, his body ridged and face as expressionless as stone. “Save it. You have one week, or my men will collect your wife and daughter and make you watch. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” he moaned. “I’m sorry. Please leave them out of this.”

My father smirked. Then, he looked to Marco and me. “Get rid of him.”

I had no idea what that meant, though I was sure the man couldn’t hold up his end of the bargain if he wasn’t alive. It wouldn’t have been the first time my father had asked me to dump someone in a ditch or into the Delaware River.

I leaned into Marco’s shoulder and whispered, “Who is he?”

He removed his hands from his pockets about to walk toward the man on the table. “Senator Ackerman.”

I remembered his campaign. He looked nothing like the man I saw on television two years ago. Senator Robert Ackerman was a local lawyer, Ivy League educated, and at one time the District Attorney of Philadelphia.

My father had made a massive donation through one of his offshore companies and called in a few favors to get the vote to swing his way. Every union member from Philadelphia to Pittsburgh voted this man into office. His entire campaign was bought and paid for by my father. Senator Ackerman handed his soul over to the devil. And the devil demands blood. Blood that I had to clean up.