Two to the Back

by Cam Johns

  Finally, my father stands and walks over to the fireplace mantle. He lands his forearms on the granite as my mother sits beside me. She grabs my hands in hers and stares at me.

  “Gabriel, I know you have your father’s temper. I need you to calm yourself and listen.” She takes both of my hands in hers and squeezes them tightly. “This was hard for me to accept, but it will be even harder for you to comprehend.”

  What?

  “This started with Antonia,” he says finally.

  “I know that part, Dad!” I say, annoyed he’s beginning with his and Santini’s side piece.

  “What did I just say?” my mother reprimands me.

  A little late for you to be a mother now.

  “She had a son.” My father continues. “My son.” He finally turns to face me, placing his hands in his pockets with his head down.

  My mind puts two and two together. Certainly, he’s not saying what I think he’s saying. I look at my mother, who just watches me get to the point on my own. She squeezes my hands harder as I remember what Mattie told me all those years ago …. and what Santini said to me.

  Santini killed me because I am the son of Veto Calgrone.

  He had to. I look up at my father, who is still staring at the silver and gold marble tile of his outrageous living room.

  “Dad, is Jackson your son?” I whisper.

  “Yes.”

  10

  Death Sentence at Seventeen

  Ten years ago…

  Calgrone’s, the neighborhood’s go-to Italian restaurant, is bustling as usual. Everyone eats here, but mainly all mob bosses and their families. My father is at the helm. In charge of it all. Running it all. So much so, that people answer to me, being the son of the second most powerful man in the community.

  The Santini and Calgrone name are almost synonymous, and nothing or nobody can affect the friendship they have.

  Or so I thought. Turns out, it only takes a woman to change it all. A woman so beautiful everyone wanted her … even me at one time. But I was a growing teenager, so it was expected of me. However, these were all grown, married men who grabbed at her every chance they got.

  That was until Santini saw her walk into my father’s restaurant. It didn’t matter whom she came in with, once he claimed her, that was it.

  Her statuesque curves sway right toward our dinner table, speaking directly to my father, as if she’s known him for years. Their eyes never leave each other, as if the connection had already been made many times— physically.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Santini interrupts Antonia and my father’s intimate conversation. Santini’s salivating eyes run up and down her body. He’s obviously admiring her in that tight, red dress that hugs her hips perfectly, and her breasts peek from the top. However, he’s not the only one. Other men at the table do the same. Their hunger is craving much more than my father’s Ossobuco.

  “Antonia, I think you know who this man is,” my father says, annoyed.

  And Antonia has the same miffed glare.

  I’m sitting right beside my father, watching her roll her eyes before turning to face the most powerful man she’s ever met.

  “How are you, sir?” She places her hand on his shoulder. Even with a man she clearly doesn’t respect, she can’t help but be flirtatious … which would be her reckoning.

  Santini takes her hand and kisses it softly, not taking his eyes off of her. This Santini is different than the other ruthless one I know. Granted, he’s never shown me that side. In fact, he’s always respected me as if I were his son, which is absolutely no shock, considering he and my father are best friends.

  Or rather, as close as friends can be in this lifestyle. Why Santini has his hands all over a woman clearly involved with my father is beyond me. But, he’s never been a man to shy away from what he wants, regardless of the consequences. Looks like this consequence will be my father.

  I turn to see the red rise in my father’s cheeks, angry that he may have to let this woman go. Why should he care? Is she not just another piece of ass?

  My father abruptly stands, heaving angry breaths.

  Clearly, I’m mistaken.

  They may be best friends, but it’s always understood whose needs come first. And that is never forgotten. My father whispers something in Antonia’s ear, upsetting her, then he leaves the table. Antonia smiles at me, realizing I just saw the disappointment on her face. She immediately takes the seat my father left and continues to captivate Santini.

  And that was the beginning. The beginning of the end for me as Gabriel Robin Calgrone.

  About a month later, Santini comes to see me after my training lesson, which he has been paying for since I was fifteen. I didn’t know then that he was grooming me to take care of his young daughter. One thing about Isabella —she hated security. She would try and ditch them every chance she could. She always likes to hide in her Tree House. So, Santini figured it would be best that someone who she already considered a friend, to watch out for her.

  Me. So, with my father’s approval, he paid for boxing lessons and target training. After a year, I progressed so well, and so fast that I have been at his side ever since.

  “Gabe! Get over here,” Santini calls me over to him as he enters the gym with none other than Antonia on his arm. Her enchanting smile has now gone and is replaced with a fake, torturous look. She hurriedly smiles once I approach them, as if I care that she’s unhappy on Santini’s arm. He pulls me into a tight bear hug, an affection my father has never shown me. Ever. I’ve never had to call him by what others do either. He’s not my boss or the Don … in fact, he wants me to call him Beppe. I just refuse to.

  “Mr. Santini,” I respond, as he pulls me away at arm’s length and cups my cheeks.

  He smiles, something he doesn’t normally do. “At least drop the Mister part,” he chuckles, “make sure you’re on time getting to Isabella’s school.” Ever since the massacre, I’ve been watching over her. She refuses to go anywhere near where the bodies were found, especially the pool.

  “Always.” I smile as he releases my face and grabs Antonia’s hand to leave.

  She looks back at me, pleading for help, as if I could give her help. There’s nothing I can do for her, but it’s clear she wants nothing to do with the Don. Nothing at all. However, I still think I should mention something to my father. Although, he’s not going to listen to me either. He has made his decision. Still, I will talk to him about it later once I leave the Santini house.

  Once I reach the middle school, which is connected to the high school, I wait outside for Isabella. I just graduated, so everyone knows me there. It doesn’t hurt my family is pretty well known, and no one, I mean no one, would have done a damn thing to me.

  As I stand at the passenger door of my white, Audi A8 waiting for Isabella, the older high school girls eye me like I’m some piece of meat. Most of them are the new seniors that had obvious crushes on me. But, that’s never been where my interests lie. Don’t get me wrong, I may have done things with them, but I would never get serious with a girl. I’ve got enough to worry about, and I don’t need to get involved with a woman that will eventually be used against me. I’ve seen it happen many times. The wives or girlfriends of the mob are always threatened. I refused to let that happen to me under any circumstances.

  Finally, little Isabella comes running out of the school, and straight for me. “Gabby!” she shouts, falling into my open arms.

  “What did I tell you about calling me that in public?” I gripe. She’s the only person I let get away with calling me by my middle name. “Jeez…Bells.”

  She punches me in the gut, making me fake the pain in my stomach. “Don’t embarrass me,” she says as I open the passenger door for her.

  “Oh, that’s right. You’re getting too old for that name now.” I chuckle, closing the door and head to the driver’s side. “Someone’s going to the high school soon.” We laugh as I pull off onto the backroads of Old Ridge.
The town is small, but we like taking the long way to hang out.

  Things are abnormally quiet on the way to the Santini home. She stares quietly out the window, no doubt upset she has to go home for the weekend. It’s the anniversary of her family’s death, and there’s a vigil for their souls in the church.

  She always dreads being around her father. A sentiment I know all too well. Especially at this age, almost becoming a teenager and just wanting or needing the affection you deserve from your parents. Although Santini seems to be fond of me, he never shows the same adoration for his daughter. She reminds him too much of the family that he lost. Or at least I hope that’s what it is. Otherwise, he’s just an asshole.

  There’s almost a five-year age difference between Isabella and me, but we’ve had the same connection since I was ten and she was five. Before the massacre, her four brothers never really paid her much attention, with her being the only girl. I think she sees me as the only sort of brother she has left.

  Right around the time my father finally started letting me come around him more, accepting me as his one and only son. It took a lot of pleading from my mother—pleading she didn’t think I ever heard. But I did. They both thought I was asleep, but I would listen to them argue when my father would come around to have one of his late-night romps with my mother. It would always end with her crying alone in bed.

  I always appreciated her dedication to wanting me to have a relationship with him. Too bad her desperation fell on deaf ears.

  “Isabella, it’s just two hours for the vigil. You’ll be away from him before you know it.” I hope to change the mood. “Look at the bright side.”

  She looks over at me with a bright anticipating smile. “What’s that, Gabby?”

  “I’ll be there the entire time.” I smile as she shoves my shoulders. “How about we stop at Calgrone’s for a quick bite before I take you home?”

  “Yes! I need some real Italian food.” We both laugh. I really want to stop and see my father before going to Santini’s for the weekend. After his entire family was murdered, except Isabella, he’s been diligent about me staying at her side.

  Once we arrive at my father’s restaurant, I let Bells out of the car and lead her inside. The restaurant is less crowded, being it’s too early for the normal dinner crowd. I sit her at a table closest to my father’s upstairs security and order her dinner, before heading downstairs to look for my father. It wasn’t long before I could hear my father’s voice, shouting at someone.

  “I can’t help you! Are you fuckin’ crazy!” my father shouts.

  “You have to. I have to get away from him. Today.”

  I immediately recognize her voice. The reason I’m even here: Antonia. Seems like she’s already beaten me to it.

  “Fine. But we need to find out the truth about this.” He sounds like he grabs something from his desk, as I hear him shut the drawer. “But I will not lie to Beppe. I will help hide you, but I have to tell him what’s going on. He may be pissed the fuck off, but he’ll never hurt me.”

  She doesn’t respond. I wonder what truth he needs to know, but I have to get out of here. My father will kill me if he finds me eavesdropping. I hurry back upstairs just as our dinner is placed on the table.

  Once I sit beside her, my father appears from the back of the restaurant without Antonia.

  “Uncle Veto!” Isabella sees my father’s tall stature from across the room. She jumps up and runs to hug him. As per usual, he hugs her close, picking her up to swing her body side to side in his arms.

  Maybe he preferred to have had a daughter.

  He puts her down, grabbing her cheeks in his hands, and kisses her forehead. She turns abruptly to head back to the table and enjoy her authentic Italian cuisine, as she would call it. My father joins us at the table, waving his hand in the air in some motion that the waitress always understands. Moments later, she brings my father a shot glass and a bottle of his favorite scotch. He usually only drinks the hard stuff after a long day, or when he’s worried about something. Something big that may end up with someone being murdered. However, since I know Beppe would never harm my father, I shrug off the urge to inquire any further. I’m always ready to dig in someone’s ass for my father … or just shoot them.

  Whatever’s faster.

  “Are you headed to Beppe’s house?” he asks, without looking me in the eye. Something he never does.

  “Yes. I’ll be watching Isabella for the weekend.”

  “The Don’s on his way here. I want you to keep your eyes open and watch your back.”

  What is he talking about? He doesn’t know I heard him downstairs, but there’s no way whatever he has to tell Santini will cause him to fly off the handle. He only tells me to watch my back when he’s in the middle of some deal with people he doesn’t trust. He trusts Santini. We both do. “Don’t be paranoid, Pops. I’ll be in the safest house in Chicago.”

  He stands abruptly, just as Santini walks in with the usual ten guys hanging on his every word. “Do as I say.” He stares through me, being sure I understand what he expects before greeting Santini and whispering something in his ear.

  I look over at Isabella, who has already begun to clean up and gather her things to leave. She always tries to avoid her father at all costs. Santini follows my father downstairs to his office without even uttering a word to his daughter.

  Typical. What can I say? Our fathers are complex douchebags.

  “Bells…” I lean over to her, and she smiles intently waiting for whatever stupid thing she expects me to say. “Let’s promise each other we won’t fall in love with douchebags like our parents.” I stick out my pinky to lock in our promise, and she takes it in hers with a smile. “Let’s get you home.”

  “Can we take the secret way in?” she asks, reminding me of her escape route from the house—the one only her brothers and she knew about, but they were gone now.

  “We can.”

  It doesn’t take long for us to make it to the Santini home. After carrying her suitcase to her room from the tunnel, I leave her to her privacy and make my way down to the kitchen to grab a drink of water before taking a shower. As I take a sip, I hear Santini’s voice in the distance. Except, it’s an angry, boisterous roar that is usually addressed to his security when we’re in his home.

  His loud footsteps stammer into the kitchen, which causes me to turn quickly as he stands a little ways behind me. He’s furious, displaying a fit of anger I’ve seen many times … just not toward me. I scan his posture, ready to attack him if need be to get out of here.

  But then I see it.

  The gun in his hand. What the fuck is happening?

  I remember what my father said. Watch your back.

  Just then, I hear Isabella calling my name from behind me. I turn quickly to try and shield her from what’s about to happen, but just as she’s about to grab my hand, I fall to the floor. I don’t even hear the gunshots go off, nor do I feel like I’ve been shot. There’s just…nothing.

  As my breathing slows, I hear Isabella screaming at her father as she grabs at my arms, pleading for me to get up.

  Yet another brother she has to see dead.

  I can’t move. My life has been taken from me. A life that wasn’t fulfilled in any way. Just an errand boy that committed a murder or two for a father that hated him. And shot in the back by a father who he thought loved him.

  “I had to, son,” Santini whispers before he drags his daughter from the room. “Take him to his father.”

  With that, I’m being dragged, then rolled onto what seems to be plastic. Just as I’ve helped do many times before. But now it’s my turn to face my punishment. A death sentence at seventeen.

  11

  He’s My Son Now

  Tears begin to flood my eyes as my father recounts the events that led up to my death. I haven’t really played the day back much since I met Lynn, because I knew if I continued to harbor and relive the day to understand why it had to happen, we would have n
ever gotten to where we are now. A place of peace.

  But now, the answer to the main question of that day can be told right now. Why? Why the one person I thought would never do me any harm, was the one who shot me, with the intention to kill. And in front of his daughter no less. I could only imagine what that impact has caused on her life, especially so soon after losing most of her family. Not only that, but I was the one person she could confide in. The one person who never disappointed her. And she watched the person she had grown to despise, kill the only brother she had left.

  The sounds of her indescribable screams still pierce my heart to this day. My blood spewed on her kitchen floor has no comparison to the flood of tears and emotion that have for certain stained her already damaged soul. I am determined now more than ever to get her away from that man. For her to go through so much trouble to get away from him, only confirms my suspicions of her discontent.

  Before I can even consider saving someone else, I need to relinquish any distractions that may impede her rescue. I need my father to delve more into the conversation he had with the Don the night that changed everything.

  I sit back on the couch, preparing for the answer to the question I’m not sure I want the answer to. I peer at my father, who has returned to leaning his forearms on the fireplace mantle. “What did you tell Santini that pissed him off? And please tell me, what the hell this has to do with my son-brother… shit… Jackson.” I shake my head, now realizing why there was something so familiar in his eyes. I thought it was the same look I used to have when my mother left me to fend for myself on her drunken binges. Apparently, it was me looking into my father’s eyes.

  My father turns to face me and stands quietly.

  “Tell him,” my mother pushes him.

  He takes a deep breath. “Antonia came to tell me she was pregnant, but at the time, we assumed it was Beppe’s baby.” He takes a deep breath and walks toward me. “She was frightened. She didn’t want her child to grow up in the life … and wanted nothing to do with Beppe ever.”