Walking The Line (Satan's Knights Prospect Trilogy Book 3)

by Janine Infante Bosco

  The next day I bought Anna a diamond cross and now here we are, standing in the same church Frankie, Enzo and I received all our sacraments at, ready to bring our little Anna Banana into our faith. Lauren shifts Anna in her arms, which is not an easy task with all that lace and tulle. Anna’s christening gown is like something I’ve never seen before, but no one expected any less. Lauren was thrilled to finally have the chance to dress a little girl, and when she picked out Anna’s dress, she spared no expense.

  Laying a hand on the small of my stepsisters back, we walk towards the altar, to where Carrie stands, holding a candle. Our eyes catch for a split second before we focus on the baby. I help Lauren remove the headband from Anna’s head, another monstrosity of lace and tulle, and we huddle around the marble basin as the priest prays over Anna.

  She squirms in Lauren’s arms as the priest gently pours the holy water over her head and I smile at her, knowing her dad is watching over her, smiling too.

  “I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,” the priest says before he takes his thumb and traces the sign of the cross over her forehead. She starts to cry and instantly my arms reach out to take her.

  Holding her against my chest, I bend my head and kiss the expect spot where the priest made the sign of the cross.

  “You, my Anna Banana, are so blessed.”

  ~*~

  One month later

  “Come in, boys,” Blackie orders.

  Bash, Bishop, and I all rise from our chairs and look at one another. Each of us has done the time and put in the work. The jobs may have been different, some of them were more trying than others, but we got them done and we did it all for the sake of the patch. For the holy sanction of brotherhood. It’s finally time to find out if our efforts were successful or if there’s still more crow to eat.

  Bash enters the chapel first, followed by Bishop and lastly me. The three of us stand before the table, our eyes moving around the room, trying to read the expressions of all the men who voted, but my gaze holds on the man standing behind my father who sits at the head of the table, holding the meat mallet.

  He may not be in charge of Satan’s Knights anymore, but Uncle Jack will always be the heart and soul of this club. He showed us the true meaning of what a chosen family should be and schooled us all on how to prevail in the worst of times. My dad saved this charter, but Jack Parrish created it.

  “Bash,” my father calls and the transplanted Texan who is still searching for a place in New York that serves grits, steps forward. “Congratulations, brother, you are now property of Parrish.”

  Pipe rises from his chair and shakes his hand, pulling him into his embrace before ordering him to remove his kutte. The room goes silent as Pipe lays the leather on the table and reaches into his own kutte for his pocketknife. With a steady hand, he cuts the stitching from the bottom rocker that reads prospect. A grin spreads across Bash’s face and like the southern gentleman he is, he tips his black baseball hat to Pipe, taking his bottom rocker that declares him a fully patched member of the Satan’s Knights Brooklyn charter.

  Next to step forward is Bishop, the father who broke the heart of every man in this room as he fought for his son. He never gave up on that boy and if you ask me, he’s the most admirable out of all of us. It takes a brave man to admit his wrongs, especially when it comes to his child, and it takes an even braver one to right them.

  “The vote was unanimous, welcome to the Satan’s Knights, son,” Dad announces, and it’s Blackie who moves to congratulate Bishop. They met in a prison cell and by the grace of God they formed an unlikely allegiance. If Blackie didn’t bring Bishop into the fold, the club wouldn’t be rising in a different direction. We wouldn’t be working to help get kids off the street and out of the arms of their abusers. We’d still be those crazy fucks who blew Chinese restaurants to smithereens and hijacked ambulances.

  Finally, it’s my turn.

  My moment of truth.

  My father rises from his chair and rounds the table.

  “Take your kutte off, son,” he commands.

  Meeting his gaze, I swallow and do as I’m told. I hand him my leathers and watch as he lays it on top of the table. He turns back to me, lifting a hand to my cheek and I see the tears in his eyes.

  I feel them in my gut.

  “I never thought I’d see the day one of my boys took the colors of my club and I sure as fuck didn’t think I’d have the honor of being the man who gives them to him,” he says hoarsely. A lump forms in my throat as I tear my eyes from him and stare at the patches in his hand. Not only is there my bottom rocker and the Brooklyn patch I’ll wear on the front of my vest, but there’s also a patch that reads, my brother’s keeper. “

  “Wear them well, son, and never ride faster than your guardian angel can fly.”

  ~*~

  Two Hours later

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Bishop calls.

  I pause and turn to face him.

  “Yeah, the party is just getting started,” Bash adds from beside him. “There’s plenty of Fireball to go around and they didn’t even break out the fried pancakes yet,” he says, rotating his hips almost as if he’s trying to keep a hula hoop around them.

  He’s fucking tanked—has been ever since Maria sewed his bottom rocker onto his kutte and he asked his girl to marry him.

  “Sorry guys,” I say. “Carrie’s got class tonight and I’m watching Anna.”

  Carrie didn’t waste any time. As soon as she passed her G.E.D, she applied for college and got accepted to the College of Staten Island—something I found out from Enzo when he showed up at my apartment with a copy of her schedule. He flung the paper at me, told me to pick what days I wanted to watch Anna, and then he handed me his phone and had me call Carrie.

  Tonight is my first night on Anna Banana duty and I can’t think of a better way to celebrate my new status other than spending the night watching my favorite girl.

  Bash can keep the pancakes.

  ~*~

  Two months later

  “When did we start celebrating half-birthdays?” Enzo asks, tugging at the string that’s holding the party hat on top of his head.

  The answer to his question is simple.

  Anna.

  “Just be happy Dad didn’t hire a clown,” I tell him.

  “Nico put your hat on,” my mom orders.

  “Yeah, Nico,” Enzo mocks. “Put your party hat on.”

  “Does everyone have a horn?” Sophie calls, holding a bag of pink paper horns.

  Sunday dinners have changed a bit over the last few months. One day, while I was watching Anna and Carrie was in class, Dad showed up to the house with the former Nomads and had them carry out the dining room table. Two hours later they returned with one twice the size and the following Sunday, we all sat down together as one big family—my mom and Sophie included.

  “Lady, get the camera,” Dad calls to Maria as he bounces Anna on his knee. If someone would’ve told me my father would be sitting at the head of the dining room table with a unicorn headband on top of his head, I would’ve told them they were fucking nuts. But here is, in all his magical glory.

  “Okay, I’ve got the camera,” Maria says as she squints and snaps a photo from one of those disposable things.

  “You wound me, Mama Leone,” Riggs admonishes, knocking the camera out of her hand. “We don’t use that crap when Uncle Tiger’s got a Go Pro.”

  Before she can slap him silly, Carrie calls out from the kitchen.

  “Are we ready?”

  “Wait,” Enzo shouts. Turning to me, he fixes a party hat to my head, snapping the string under my chin. “Now, we’re ready.”

  My mom kills the lights, and everyone starts to sing to Anna as Carrie walks out of the kitchen carrying half of a cake.

  I’m not kidding.

  It’s half a cake.

  I’m surprised there’s not half a candle sticking out of it.

&nbs
p; We finish singing to our little girl and everyone claps, but Anna only has eyes for the cake.

  A true Scotto.

  She sticks her chubby fist into the cake, and we all laugh. Rather proud of herself, she lifts her head and flashes us a toothless smile before turning to Dad and smearing the frosting all over his beard.

  And that…that takes the cake.

  ~*~

  Two months later

  “Excuse me, my niece was brought in…Anna Scotto…”

  “Nico,” Carrie calls, and I spin away from the registration desk. My eyes fall on Anna and I breathe a sigh of relief as I charge for them.

  Carrie called me a little while ago in a panic saying Anna had a fever of a hundred and three and she was taking her to the pediatrician. I was on my way to Jersey to meet with the foreman of a construction company my father was trying to cut a deal with. I immediately turned my bike around and raced over here.

  “Did she see the doctor yet?” I ask, taking Anna from her. I kiss her red cheeks and feel the heat radiate from her to my lips. “Jesus Christ, she’s hot.”

  “The nurse practitioner said it could be a combination of her being sick and cutting another tooth, but I’m waiting for the pediatrician to examine her to confirm.”

  Anna burrows closer to me and I take a seat next to Carrie.

  “I called your dad and Sophie, they’re on their way too.”

  I nod my head and tighten my hold on Anna, gently caressing her back.

  “It’s going to be okay, Anna Banana, Uncle Nico is here,” then I turn to Carrie. “If a doctor doesn’t see her within the next five minutes, we’re getting the fuck out of here and taking her to the hospital.”

  “Okay,” she murmurs softly.

  Her green eyes lock with mine and for the first time in a long time, I feel compelled to take away her pain.

  “She’s going to be okay,” I whisper.

  “I know,” she sniffles, looking at Anna in my arms. Hesitantly, she raises her hand and touches it to her daughters back, carefully avoiding my hand that’s already there.

  Something pulls at my chest.

  An unfamiliar ache.

  A burning.

  “How’s school?

  She lifts her chin and surprise wears on her pretty features, instantly making me feel like a dick because it’s the first time I’ve attempted a conversation with her that doesn’t pertain to Anna.

  “It’s good, I finished out the semester with a three-point-four average. I’m thinking about taking a few extra courses next semester, but I’m going to have to talk it over with Sophie and your dad to see if they can watch Anna.”

  “I can watch her,” I say instantly.

  “You already watch her two nights a week and all day on Tuesdays.”

  Tuesdays are my favorite day of the week in case you were wondering.

  “So?”

  “What about the club?”

  “I’ll make it work,” I tell her. “Just let me know when you need me, and I’ll be there.”

  For Anna, there’s nothing I won’t do.

  I’ll break through locked doors.

  Go to the ends of the world.

  So long as she and her mother have what they need.

  Carrie smiles softly and murmurs a thank you before turning her attention to the flat-screen television on the wall. Desperate to keep my focus on the promises I made to myself, promises that don’t include looking at Carrie, I glance at the clock.

  One more minute and we’re out of here.

  I turn to tell Carrie that and watch as her face falls. Drawing my eyebrows together, I follow her line of sight and my gaze settles on the television. On to the headline that reveals her father has been arrested for funding an illegal prostitution ring.

  My eyes move back to her and I watch as she pulls her lower lip between her teeth.

  Ah, fuck.

  I’m not prepared for her tears.

  “Green Eyes,” I call.

  Releasing her lip, she turns to me.

  “You okay?”

  “He got what he deserved.”

  I fight the urge to reach for her hand, giving her a nod instead.

  “Anna Scotto?”

  Saved by the pediatrician, we tear our eyes from one another and rise from our chairs. She hikes the diaper bag over her shoulder as I carry Anna into the exam room. Twenty minutes and a dose of Children’s Motrin later, we exit the urgent care and head for the pharmacy to fill a prescription of antibiotics.

  I leave my bike at the doctor’s office.

  I’ll grab it later.

  My Anna Banana needs me.

  ~*~

  Four months later

  “Dad’s going to go broke, we need to get him a part-time job or something,” Enzo says as we stare at our father who is currently having pancakes with Mickey Mouse and friends.

  Yes, you read that correctly.

  Our dad, Alfonse Scotto, commonly known as Wolf, the president of the Satan’s Knights motorcycle club, is having breakfast with a cartoon character.

  For months he obsessed over how we were going to top Anna’s half-birthday, then one day he announced we were all going to Disney World. He fucking got us shirts that read ‘Anna Banana’s First Trip to Disney’ and everything. By everything I mean we’re all fucking wearing mouse ears—including him.

  “Why do you get the fancy ears?” Enzo asks Carrie.

  “I’m sorry, did you want to trade? The pink bow will look fabulous on you,” she quips, and I feel the corners of my lips tick into a smile.

  I miss that sarcastic mouth.

  “Did you guys try the sausage? It’s fucking amazing,” Riggs says with his mouthful.

  “Riggs!” Lauren chastises. “You can’t curse in the land of the mouse.”

  “I’m the fucking Tiger, I can do whatever I want. In the land of the wild all tigers trump mice.”

  “Whose idea was it to bring him?” Anthony grunts.

  If you think my father is a sight to be seen, you should get a load of this guy. The former mob enforcer has a sorcerer’s hat on top of his head.

  Suddenly I hear Anna cry and the sound pulls me away from the chaos surrounding the breakfast table and my eyes instantly scan the room, searching for her. I spot her pulling away from Goofy, burying her face in Sophie’s chest as the protective grandma backs away from the character and makes her way back to the table.

  “She’s not a fan of the dog,” Sophie declares, handing Anna off to Carrie.

  “Wait a minute, Goofy is a dog?” Enzo questions. “I thought Pluto was the dog.”

  “If he’s not a dog, what is he then?”

  Dad turns his head to study the character in question.

  “That’s a cow, Soph,” Dad corrects.

  “I don’t think so, honey,” Maria chimed in.

  “Yeah, I don’t see any nipples,” Riggs adds.

  “Idiot, they’re called udders,” Anthony growls.

  “Tomato, to-mat-toe.”

  Laughing, I push back my chair and round the table, freezing in front of Carrie.

  “Can I take her?”

  The smile she gives me as she holds Anna out for me to take punches me square in the gut and it takes me a second to recover.

  Burning.

  Aching.

  Begging.

  I take Anna and walk her over to her favorite character, Minnie Mouse.

  “Hey, Minnie,” I call, and the oversized head turns to us, waving a big fat glove at us.

  Christ.

  Then something clenches in my chest and I picture my brother’s smiling face. I bet he’s getting a kick out of this.

  Clearing my throat, I smile at his daughter before focusing back on the mouse.

  “Minnie, this is Anna Banana,” I say, watching as Anna’s eyes go wide. “She’s celebrating her first birthday today.”

  The mouse brings her gloved hand to her mouth before making grabby hands. Instead of going to her idol, my little Anna
Banana, my sweet niece, she reaches out and bites the mouse’s nose.

  Laugh it up, brother.

  ~*~

  One month later

  I shouldn’t be here. None of us should be. We should be at the cemetery, paying our respects to Frankie on the first anniversary of his death. Instead, me, Enzo and dad are standing on the land that used to house the former clubhouse of the Satan’s Knights.

  Any other day I might’ve been impressed to see the work that’s been done. Not too long ago this place stood in ruins from a bomb, now all that debris…all that carnage has been cleared. The dirt turned.

  “Why are we here?” Enzo asks and we both look towards our father for an answer.

  “The city finally cleared the permits on this place, giving us the green light to rebuild,” he reveals.

  Wonderful.

  Now, let’s get the fuck out of here.

  My brother is alone and waiting for me.

  “When me, Pipe and Parrish started this thing this place served as an oasis for three kids who got dealt a shit hand in life. It was my first home when I got out of juvie and in a lot of ways this place saved me,” he shares, pausing to look at us. “It held the promise of a future none of us thought we had and rather than try to rebuild what we lost, I want to use this land to create a future for the kids of these streets who feel like they got nowhere to go.”

  He draws in a breath.

  “For children walking the line.”

  His gaze flits to me.

  “I want you to build it.”

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “Both of you. I want you to use the hands God gave you and I want you to create Frankie’s House.”

  ~*~

  One year later

  Frankie’s House grew to be so much more than the blueprints of my father’s dream to help troubled teens called for. Once we got started, the ideas just kept flowing and everyone got involved in some way, shape or form.

  Enzo and I oversaw all the construction. We got our hands dirty pouring the foundation, hanging up the sheetrock and hammered every nail. When the paint was dry, we put our efforts into creating a flag football league. We hired some of Frankie’s old coaches and teammates to assist us, and we already have four teams rearing to go.