by Hazel Parker
Dirty Play
The Ferrari Mafia Family Series
Book One
~
Hazel Parker
Dirty Play – Ferrari Family Series © 2020 Hazel Parker
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1: Nick
Chapter 2: Izzy
Chapter 3: Nick
Chapter 4: Izzy
Chapter 5: Nick
Chapter 6: Izzy
Chapter 7: Nick
Chapter 8: Izzy
Chapter 9: Nick
Chapter 10: Izzy
Chapter 11: Nick
Chapter 12: Izzy
Chapter 13: Nick
Chapter 14: Izzy
Chapter 15: Nick
Chapter 16: Izzy
Chapter 17: Nick
Chapter 18: Izzy
Chapter 19: Nick
Chapter 20: Izzy
Chapter 21: Nick
Chapter 22: Izzy
Chapter 23: Nick
Chapter 24: Izzy
Chapter 25: Nick
Chapter 26: Izzy
Epilogue
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Author Bio
Prologue
December 18th, 1962
It was an unusually cold day on the outskirts of Las Vegas, which meant the temperatures had “dipped” to the low sixties.
From my porch, wearing a light jacket and with a freshly made warm cup of tea, I sniffed the wafting wisps of herbal scents as I watched my family play on the front yard. My wife, Mary; my boys Bill, Nick, and Frank; and the princess of my family, the most beautiful thing that had ever happened in my life, my three-year-old daughter, Maria. The boys were playing some sort of chaotic version of football while Mary and Maria sat about five feet from the edge of the road, playing in the grass.
In many ways, the day was the perfect culmination of nearly two decades of pursuing the American dream. The means didn’t matter so much as the ends. I had gotten us to where we needed to go.
“Ow!” Bill yelled when Frank managed to tackle him. “That hurt!”
“Hey, hey, hey!” I yelled. “Bill! If you’re going to play football, you’re going to get hit. Don’t be mad because he did it right. And stay out of your mother’s garden, would ya?”
I could admit I didn’t have a great understanding of the rules of football, but I had seen the game enough to know it was a violent endeavor, far more aggressive than what I had known “football” to be back in Italy.
“Alf, dear,” Mary said. “The mailman’s coming. Won’t you meet him for the mail?”
I rose from my seat, stretched, and put the tea on the porch table. Yes, I supposed I could do that. I supposed that for my family, I would do just about anything—what was getting the mail on top of the things I had done to get to this point?
“Yes, sweetie.”
I strolled down the driveway, pausing for a second and scooting back to avoid Nick trying to drag Bill and Frank to some imaginary goal line. I slowed my walk down when I saw the face of my young Maria. I then met the mailman, a gentleman by the name of Paul, and nodded to him.
“How are you doing today?”
“Oh, just fine.”
There was something off about his voice. He was usually pretty easy and chatty, but his voice sounded a little more stilted.
“Dad!”
I turned around. Bill was bleeding from his elbow, and though it was just a scrape on the ground, it was the sort of thing that couldn’t be left alone.
“Boys, go inside and clean up!” I shouted before turning back to Paul. “Just fine, huh?”
“Yep, can’t believe how cold it is.”
That felt a little more like Paul, and I chose to believe that I had just misread him, especially after having just basked in the glow of the queen and princess of the family.
“That’s the desert for you; during the day, it can feel like you’re going to melt to death, and at night, it’s like you’ll freeze,” I said. “So probably just a bit jarring when it’s cold.”
“Just a bit,” Paul said with a nod. “You have yourself a good day now.”
Paul never ends the conversation first. I wonder if the office has put some sort of time frame for delivery.
“You too,” I said.
I turned back to Mary and Maria. I wanted to tell them to come inside now that the boys were there and that I’d be right behind them.
“Flowers!”
But then, ever the wondrous and awe-filled child, Maria walked over to our garden. Mary followed her, and I decided to let them be. I’d have all the time in the day to get them inside, and as long as they weren’t shivering cold, what difference did it make?
I got inside and heard the boys jostling with each other in the kitchen.
“Hey, settle down!” I yelled. “Your mother’s gonna have a fit when she sees the mess you’ve made.”
I turned my attention to the mail. I had a couple of bills…some business advertisements…a letter from one of the nearby casinos…
And then a yellow envelope with just the words “Alf Ferrari.” It did not have my address on it, and it did not have a return address. In fact, it did not even have a stamp on it.
With some trepidation, I opened the envelope.
“Payback.”
BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM!
Gunfire rang out from the front yard.
“Stay in here!” I roared to the boys as they screamed. “Don’t move!”
I was already halfway to the front door when I burst through, all but knocking it off its hinges. I saw the postal service truck driving off in a hurry, leaving skid marks on the ground. And there…
No…
There, on the ground…
No, it couldn’t be…
“Ma…Mar…no, no, no!”
I hurried over to the two bodies, praying, hoping, begging for any signs of life. If they were still breathing, I could stem the bleeding…I could get them to a hospital…I could, I could, I could…
I got to my little princess first.
She wasn’t…
She was gone.
“Mary?” I said, my voice quivering and my lips shaking.
I crawled over to her in a hurry. I rolled her over. She was…breath still came from her mouth. But it was shallow.
“Goddamnit!” I roared.
I didn’t have time to mourn. I sprinted back into the house. Bill, bless his soul, already had the phone off the wall mount.
“I called—”
“Good, stay inside, and don’t you dare go near the window.”
I did not want the boys to have the lasting image of their little sister to be bleeding out, dead on the front yard. I did not want the boys to be asking questions. I just
…
I wanted to protect them better than I had protected the women of the family.
“Police, what’s your emergency?”
“My wife, my daughter…”
Saying the words still didn’t make it seem real. Nothing would make what had just happened seem real.
“They’ve been shot and killed.”
* * *
The ambulance showed up within ten minutes. I sent the boys upstairs, and I knew damn well that they were looking outside. I could hear Frank crying at the sight of his little sister on the ground. Bill was trying to calm him down; Nick hadn’t said a word. I guessed he was in shock. Frankly, I was too.
I took the boys to the hospital downtown and scrambled to find my beloved. A doctor met me outside my wife’s room.
“She’s in critical condition,” he said. “But she’s got a shot.”
“And my daughter? Maria?”
I knew the answer before the doctor even slowly shook his head.
I wanted to think that at least she was no longer in pain, but she also no longer had the opportunity to experience the joys of life.
And it was all because of this life I’d gotten myself wrapped up in.
“Forget it, I know,” I said. “Just go treat her.”
“Yes, sir,” the doctor said, smartly going back into the room.
I turned and looked at my three boys, looking to their father for guidance on how to act during this dark moment. I felt the same way, wanting to look to the heavens for leadership. Too bad none of us had any advice.
“Let’s go to the chapel, boys,” I said. “God needs to hear all our prayers.”
Frank sniffled. Nick kept his head bowed, seemingly refusing to show any kind of emotion at all. Bill put his arm around Frank, and the four of us headed to the chapel. I told them to sit at the front of the small room so I could see them, but really, I just needed some time alone.
I knew even before I closed my eyes or knelt that I needed to get out of this life.
This life, this work had given me many great things. It had given me the American dream, it had allowed me to provide for my children, and it had ensured I had a network of protection.
But at what cost? The wicked only went after those that had something it wanted to guard; those who lived their lives on the outskirts, away from the madness, they never had to suffer the wrath of evil. At the very least, they didn’t have to worry about their families getting gunned down in broad daylight.
God, I prayed. Save my wife. You have my little girl. Let Mary live. And in return, I promise to lead a fully honest life. I will cherish my wife from now until death finally parts us.
And I will get out of the “business” forever.
I opened my eyes and sat back in my pew. Like all the prayers I had ever offered, the answer wouldn’t come immediately. But up until today, life had generally provided me quick answers; I could only hope this would be the same.
I heard the door open. I turned around.
It was Nico, one of my closest connections in the business. He only was be present to let me know he needed me.
“Boys,” I said. “Say twenty Hail Mary’s and twenty Our Father’s. If I’m not back, repeat the process. We need to say all the prayers we can for your mother.”
“Yes, sir,” all three of them said.
As soon as I was sure they were doing so—and, thank heavens, they were generally good kids who did what we asked them to—I stepped out of the chapel and moved with Nico to the outside of the hospital.
“We heard what happened,” he said. “Alf, if you—”
“I’m done, Nico.”
Nico didn’t say a word at first. I took a second to collect my thoughts.
“I’m sorry, but if my wife makes it through this, I’m done,” I said. “I made a promise to God I’d get out if he spared her life. And while I am grateful for you and the family, I can’t go back on a vow to God. The consequences would be worse.”
Nico nodded, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. He offered me one, which I readily accepted.
“You know the deal, Alf,” he said. “The Boss is willing to let people walk. But there is always a price.”
“I don’t care about the price,” I said. “Nothing could be worse than losing my daughter.”
Even Nico, a man not prone to emotion or shock, looked horrified.
“Shit, I’m sorry, Alf,” he said.
He took a puff of his cigarette. Just like that, the cold-blooded messenger of the family had returned, his show of empathy was so brief, it was like a hallucination.
“What will you do?”
“I don’t know, but I won’t stay here,” I said. “Make an honest living. Maybe something in California, maybe something in Utah. I don’t know. Just not here.”
“Well, that’s at least a good decision if you’re going to make that first bad one,” Nico said. “I would encourage you to think about it, Alf. The Boss is getting old, and more zealous members of the family are biding their time to strike at those who—”
“I’ve never been part of the family, Nico, and you know that,” I said. “I’ve only helped, and you’ve repaid me greatly. But I’m not in the family.”
Nico sighed.
“You’ve been warned,” he said. “You may have made a promise to God, but doing this is a deal with the devil.”
He took another puff of the cigarette.
“Should I inform…”
“No,” I said, cutting him off immediately when I knew where he was going. “No, absolutely not. I’ll reach out to her.”
Nico took one more puff of the cigarette before dropping it to the ground and grinding the butt down.
“I’ll leave her up to you, then,” he said. “As for the rest, God speed. Because depending on how things go, it may only be God that can save you.”
I didn’t care. I’d risk wrestling with the devil to keep Mary alive and my boys safe. I’d risk anything to have that happen.
Nico left. And with him, I hoped, the last ties I had to the family and The Boss.
* * *
Three Months Later
“Hurry up, Bill!” I yelled from downstairs. “We’re not going to wait all day.”
“I’m almost done, Dad!”
I sat in the kitchen, alone, drinking the remains of my morning tea. I needed it to feel awake after the previous few months. Really, I just needed a permanent injection of caffeine, but I wasn’t even sure that could do the trick.
“Take the luggage out to the car,” I said. “You’re the last one.”
“Ugh, I know!”
I didn’t yell at him for having an attitude. I was honestly just going through the motions as a father; until we got on the road and actually got out of Las Vegas, I felt like I was living on borrowed time. Nico’s half-threats had remained in the back of my mind, and I never did have a moment where my focus wasn’t on constantly scanning the environment for threats.
But so far, no more violence had come upon the Ferrari family. And after what had happened to little Maria, that was the only metric I judged life by.
I heard Bill bounding down the stairs with the last of his clothing. I took a moment to pause and look around the now-barren kitchen. The only thing that remained was the table and two chairs, a sort of parting gift we decided to give to the new owners rather than try to lug it to our new home.
This place made my family and me who we are today. For both better and for much worse.
I opened my mouth to say something to the empty space, but I stopped myself. Anything short would be incomplete; anything long was just delaying the move.
I walked outside and shut the door behind me, placing the keys to the house under the mat. But before I went to the car, I made one last stop at the spot where Maria had drawn her last breath.
“I’ll always remember you, my little one,” I said. “I’ll make sure that no one in this family ever has to suffer like you did. I love y
ou.”
I kissed the ground, sighed, and headed for the driver’s door. I opened it, shut it, and looked back at my family. In the back were my three boys.
And to my right, by miracle of miracles, was my wife: alive, wounded, but breathing.
“Time for a new life, boys,” I said.
“What are we going to do in California?” Frank asked earnestly.
For the first time in months, I smiled.
“We’re going to make an honest living,” I said. “We’re going to start a winery near Sacramento. Call it Ferrari Wines. I think it’s going to be just what we need.”
Just what we need for our boys and, eventually, our grandkids to have their own lives.
May what happened here never happen again.
Chapter 1: Nick
Present Day—Sacramento, CA
“And what can we expect this summer from the new-look Nick Ferrari?”
Sitting in a producer’s seat, I shined my endorsement-winning smile to the reporter seated across from me, a cute blonde girl in a red suit from ESPN. Around us, an entire production crew, ranging from cameramen to producers to audio guys, captured everything I did, from every “um” I might utter to every shift in my seat.
“I just think you’re going to see me go out there, give it my all, and give the fans a good show,” I said, conscious of maintaining my smile the whole time for the cameras.
“Even in a contract year?” the reporter asked. “You will be a free agent at the end of the year. And the rumor is you’re just going to retire instead of move and take over your family’s namesake.”
I chuckled in an “aw, shucks,” demeanor, pretending to be embarrassed at having been “caught” in some sort of scandalous truth. I shook my head slowly while smiling, keeping a playful tone.
“I’m not worried about what will happen after I lead the Giants to another World Series banner,” I said. “I’m just worried about making sure I give my teammates a hundred percent effort.”
I had to give credit to the girl—Brittney, I think her name was. She knew how to effortlessly utilize her looks and playful demeanor to get someone to open up. I supposed that’s why she worked for the big dogs.
