Chapter 7
Nico
I parked my car next to my father’s at the build site. He was there already, and I didn’t have a good feeling about going to speak with him today.
With the permit in hand, I made my way to where I could see him standing.
He was speaking to one of the contractors. Their voices were inaudible so I figured they were discussing something underhand.
When I joined them, they stopped talking.
“Where have you been?” dad asked, turning to me. There was a growl in his voice, and the other man sensed trouble and stepped away.
“I’ve been in the permits office,” I replied firmly and held up the piece of paper. Dad snatched it out of my hand and looked over it quickly.
“I needed this done yesterday,” he grumbled.
“You should have sent somebody else then. Yesterday I was cleaning up the shit storm at Cavelli’s,” I snapped. Just two days before, some of the Rossi men under my father’s instructions had turned over a local grocery store. Mario Cavelli was delayed in making some payments that he owed my father.
“You didn’t need to fucking do that. You’re not his mother,” dad snapped. He’d started walking away and I followed him.
“He was going to call the cops on us! Someone from the family needed to go there and appease him,” I thundered. Dad stopped in his tracks and turned to me. I could see the rage bubbling under the surface.
“You think we can’t handle a few lousy cops?” he hissed.
“We need to stop drawing attention to our business,” I replied, trying to keep calm.
“You’re just a little pussy. My son, the little pussy!” he raged.
I clenched my fists on my sides. Hearing your own father calling you a pussy was not a great way to start the day.
“I’m the only one thinking clearly here,” I grunted. If this was anybody but my father, he would have a bleeding nose and a punctured stomach by now.
“You’re the only one too afraid to get the job done. That is what the truth is,” he snapped.
“Make me in-charge of some of the operations. Let me figure out how we can keep rolling in money so that nobody gets hurt,” I tried. I needed him to see reason. This wasn’t just a screaming match to me.
“Make you in-charge?” he scoffed. “You! In-charge of my operations!”
“It’s a family business remember? I should have some role to play in this too,” I hissed.
He flipped away from me again. I wasn’t about to give up. I kept following him as he entered the barely constructed structure.
“Dad! You need to give me some responsibilities. I’m not going to be the errands-boy anymore. I refuse to do that shit!” I growled after him.
He stopped again. This time he only looked over his shoulder, refusing to turn to look at me fully.
“As long as you are a pussy, that’s all you’ll be. An errands boy. Grow a pair of balls, son, and then we can talk,” he roared.
I could feel the cold heavy metal of the gun. It was stuffed in my belt on my side. It would only take me a second to reach for it and shoot a bullet through his back.
Then what would that make me? A man who killed his father.
I glared at him while he walked away. Quickly resuming the hushed conversation with the contractor again.
My father didn’t trust me. He didn’t think I was worthy of handling responsibilities. He thought I was a fucking coward!
I stormed out of the structure, heading for my car again.
How long was this going to go on? How long was I going to be pushed to the sidelines while my family continued to carry on violent atrocities? I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t fucking ask for a life of crime. This was what I was born in, and I wanted out.
I sat in my car and looked over at the construction site.
The first man I killed was when I was just twenty. I’d done it to please my father. To prove to him that I could do it. That I could be just as much of a man as he was. Back then, I still wanted to prove myself to him.
The violence and the crime had continued. I got better at it. I got better at hurting people. By now, everyone who knew the Rossi family knew what I was capable of.
But I didn’t know if I was capable of it anymore.
I’d seen too many broken families. I’d been the cause of many of them.
And what for?
So our family could make more money? Grow richer?
If it was just about laundering money and beating the system, it wouldn’t be such a problem for me. The problem was that people were getting hurt because my father was greedy. Because he already had power over people and he wanted to keep it that way.
Then my mind drifted to Kennedy. Who I’d left sleeping on my bed earlier. What did she think of me? Had she seen the violence and corruption in my eyes?
I’d left that note for her on a whim. I’d invited her to dinner. I didn’t even know if she was going to turn up.
She didn’t know what I was involved in. She knew nothing about my life. The lie I’d told her about my granddad being sick was eventually going to come out, if I spent any more time with her.
Maybe I shouldn’t go to dinner?
Maybe I should cancel?
But then I realized that I didn’t have her number. I had no way of contacting her. And I wasn’t going to keep a lady waiting. I wasn’t going to stand her up.