Fuck… That breath! Miles thought.
Vic’s years of meth abuse didn’t do him any favors. Not that he was ever a looker anyhow. He was known for his particular set of skills. Skills that didn’t involve the use of soap, water or a toothbrush.
The only thing that keeps me from knocking Vic into next week is the fact that no matter how bad I beat ’em, he’ll never get any uglier.
As they cut through the rows of cells, the grisly population of D Block voiced their disgust that Miles was breaking free of this hell hole, and they were stuck to serve out the rest of their terms. With a cocky smile on his face, Miles smirked at all of them.
What do I care? They had never did me any favors, anyway.
“They’re gonna get you, Cap! They got a bullet with your name on it!” Vic screamed.
Miles smiled at the man he once considered his mentor. That was a long time ago, before the man had tried to kill him.
“Bring it on, Schiabetta! I’ll just dodge it once again,” Miles yelled back in a self-assured voice. Confidence has never been something that Miles lacked. The guards nudged him forward but it didn’t stop Miles from pushing Vendetta Vic over the edge.
“Public Enemy #1, Capadonno!” Vic yelled.
Turning his head, Miles barked back, “Ask me if I give a shit!”
Vic reached his arms through the bars of his cell and gripped Miles’s brand new white t-shirt. Miles looked down at Vic’s disgusting fingers. There was dirt caked under his fingernails.
“You will when you see what we’ve done to her!” Vic threatened.
Glaring at Vic, Miles was certain that he saw the look of pure insanity in his eyes.
I don’t care who comes for my neck. I will fuck a brother up that comes at me with the intention to hurt or kill… but come after a woman? I’m not having that shit. Especially not my woman. Letty. It had been a long time, but in my heart, Letty was still mine.
“If she is hurt, I will snap each and every one of their necks,” Miles spat.
“Capadonno…” the guard warned.
Miles seethed at the sound of the guard’s voice. Ten more feet, Miles. You can do this, Miles thought. My pep talks suck ass because I don’t feel any calmer. I’m sure as hell not any less likely to refrain from decapitating Schiabetta with a lethal upper cut. Bam! Halitosis breath, be gone. I wish.
Vic the Dick wasn’t satisfied though. He smirked cruelly as he blurted out, “Good luck, Miles. You got lucky last time. That contract is still active.”
A growl resonated from Miles’s throat. Some of the other inmates glared at him with a ravenous look in their eyes.
They are always looking for a little action. A little entertainment. They can go watch Jerry Springer in the common room. I’m not here to put on a show for their crooked asses.
After a moment, Miles replied, “Let ’em try it. They’ve got something coming their way.”
As Vic continued to sling shit through the bars of his cell, Miles stepped out into the glaring sun, blinded by the day.
“Gotta ignore the noise, Capadonno,” Officer Chapman said as the doors of the prison slammed shut. “If you listen to the chatter, you’ll only wind up back in here.”
Miles laughed loudly as he shook his head. “I’m heading a lot of places… but Franklin Correctional Facility ain’t one of ’em.”
Officer Luciano slipped a silver key into the lock of Miles’s handcuffs. With a clang, the metal bonds released from Miles’s wrists.
“Good to hear, Cap,” Officer Chapman said as they walked through the courtyard towards the perimeter gate of the prison. As they approached the chain link fence, the security system buzzed loudly and the gate swung open.
“Miles Capadonno, sign here…” Officer Luciano said as he handed Miles a form on a clipboard. “All of your belongings are in this bag. Please check to verify everything is there.”
“My belongings…”
“Yeah, your belongings. Everything you had on you when you came in… All the stuff you had in your cell,” Officer Chapman explained.
My life now fits neatly in the restricted confines of a plastic bag.
Miles’s mind crashed back to that night when he first passed through the gates of the prison. It seemed like a lifetime ago. In reality, it was. Miles was not the same guy that he was when he had come in. Grabbing the white plastic bag, Miles rifled through it, eyeballing the contents of the bag. There was an old pair of Fila sneakers, a black button shirt, a silver skull ring, a wallet, three legal pads full of Miles’s messy scrawl, a bible, a photograph of Miles and Letty, the photo of Miles’s mother, an obituary for Andrea Cormack that was clipped out of the Philadelphia Inquirer from May 16, 1998, a pencil, a couple of Rolling Stone magazines and a yellow post-it note with the names of fifteen men.
Writing down their names had made my revenge seem more real. I didn’t write their names because I had trouble remembering. No, I remember that day as if it were yesterday. I wrote their names down to remind myself that they could be erased in the blink of an eye.
“Looks fine to me,” Miles replied.
If the guards had any fucking clue what that post-it note meant, they’d never have let me out of my cage.
“I’ll check it out later,” Miles assured the officers.
“All right,” Officer Luciano said as he passed Miles the clipboard and a pen.
Taking the pen in his hand, Miles slashed the Capadonno name from the registry. He struck the name out as a way to remove himself from this lifestyle. Now, if he heard them calling Miles Cap from down the block, he’d just keep on walking.
What has this lifestyle done for me? It stripped me of my freedom. I lost Letty. I damn near lost my life. Now seventeen years later, they are apt to remind me there is still a contract on my head. This time I won’t run, though. I paid my debts. They owe me.
This time, Miles was brazen enough to collect on owed favors. Scraping the pen across the form, Miles signed the name Miles Cormack big and bold.
Taking my mother’s maiden name, I intend to make my allegiances loud and clear.
Miles passed the clipboard back to the officer. Officer Luciano looked down at the form and gave Miles a look of approval.
“Good for you, Miles,” Officer Luciano said.
Putting two fingers in his mouth, Officer Chapman whistled for the door guard.
“Open ’em up!”
The access gate of the prison clanged open, and Miles took his first step towards freedom. Not even giving the gray façade of the prison a second glance, he walked forward, slinging his bag over his right shoulder. A glossy black 1970 Dodge Charger waited at the curb.
“Corina…” Miles cooed in nothing more than a whisper.
My car. My baby. Corina still looks as good as the day I got her. There she sits just feet away with a cocky twenty-something kid leaning against the side door. Despite myself, I laugh.
“Last time I saw you, you were in diapers, kid…” Miles said to his kid brother Landon with a smirk.
“Not quite but it has been a minute,” Landon said as he flicked a set of keys to Miles. Miles caught them mid-air, trapping them in his right hand. Landon stood at about five feet eleven inches, about a half foot shorter than Miles. Rather than sporting the usual Capadonno dark look, with black hair and brown eyes, Landon favored the Cormack features that their mother sported. With straight blonde hair and bright blue eyes, Landon had a happy smile on his face as he greeted his older brother. Landon was the spitting image of Andie Cormack.
“Ah, freedom,” Miles said as he twirled the keys on the index finger of his right hand.
Damn it feels good, Miles thought.
“I should have known the others wouldn’t show,” Miles said nonchalantly as he approached his kid brother.
“Rainey is well… Rainey. Preoccupied with her own drama. Hangs out with this guy, Anthony. I don’t know if they are together or broken up. It changes daily. Knox is just as stubborn as our father,” Landon b
egan.
“Fuck Knox,” Miles said bluntly, clearly catching the kid off guard.
“Dustin is busy running his garage and driving Dad around,” Landon explained. “He’ll be around later.”
“And what about Sasha?” Miles asked as a grilling look escaped his eyes.
This kid probably thinks I’m insane. He’d be half right.
“She had to be at the house for a meeting with the home health nurse,” Landon explained. “Though, I’m sure if she didn’t have that she would have come in the church van along with her other bible thumpers to pray for you,” Landon said with a wicked smile.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Miles griped loudly as his eyes rolled.
This is the same sister that was supposed to keep me out of trouble, but instead, was too busy getting high behind the same church where she now acts as secretary and Sunday school teacher.
Landon shrugged his shoulders. “It is what it is, dude.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Miles replied as he stared at the kid.
Landon was only four years old when I’d last seen him. It seems so strange seeing him an adult now. A man. I’ve missed so much, Miles thought sadly.
Time is a funny thing when you go on the inside. Although Miles mostly remained the same, a youth afforded to him by hitting the weights out of necessity to stay in prime physical condition, the rest of the world moved on. Everyone aged, went about their lives, made mistakes and tried new things.
I’ve been trapped in limbo for the past seventeen years.
Gazing over at Landon, Miles brought his brother into a bear hug, lifting him off his feet as he slapped his back hard.
“Good to see ya, kid,” Miles said happily with a broad smile.
“You too. You look good. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting you to look like when you came through those doors. You look nothing like I thought you would. The beard, the tats, the clean threads…” Landon said as he gave Miles a piercing look.
Miles ran his hand through his beard. It was a conversation starter, that was for sure. Women loved it, men respected it. Miles didn’t care, though. The look worked for him.
“C’mon, what are you waiting for? Get the hell in,” Miles barked at Landon as he stood on the curb, shooting the shit.
At the sound of Miles’s voice, Landon ran around to claim shotgun. Slipping into the driver’s seat of his beautiful car, it felt like home to Miles. Stretching his legs to the pedals and his bulky arms to the steering wheel, he gripped the soft leather tightly, as a groan slipped from his mouth. There was something animalistic about the growl that ripped from his throat. Sexual. Wild and free. Miles’s knuckles went white as he gripped the leather of the steering wheel.
“Oh, baby… You only get better with age,” Miles cooed as Landon gave him a perplexed look. He lifted an eyebrow at Miles, looking at his older brother as if he were insane.
Maybe I am. I love this fucking car, Miles thought happily.
“What?” Miles asked as he gave the kid a nonplussed look.
“You’re talking to the car like it’s a woman,” Landon said looking confused.
“The finest of women,” Miles uttered. “This old girl has never let me down.”
Miles inserted the key into the ignition, and the motor purred as it started up. The sound was like heaven to Miles. It was ecstasy. Corina’s motor was heaven and hell, sweetness and sin all rolled up into a single sound. It brought back a flood of memories for Miles. Opening up the glove box, he grabbed a CD. Not even bothering to look at the title, he inserted it into the CD player, and not a second later, a familiar song blared out. “Born To Run” wailed from the speakers as Miles revved the engine. As the Boss’s familiar voice cranked from the stereo, Miles gave a glance over at his brother. Miles winked at Landon. Landon had a fresh look in his eyes. He had hope. It had been a long time since Miles had seen hope in anyone’s eyes. The feeling was infectious. Miles couldn’t help but feel a little hope, himself. Two seconds later, he slammed on the gas pedal as the Charger sped forward leaving his past and Franklin Correctional Facility behind him.
So this is what freedom feels like. No ties to the past. No cage to hold me. Nothing could tame this wild heart. Nothing could rein me, chain me or hold me down. I have debts to collect, and I won’t stop until redemption is mine.
“Where are we going?” Landon asked when he saw that Miles was heading south on Market Street instead of towards the Ben Franklin Bridge that would lead towards Jersey.
“A quick detour,” Miles said as a slick smile grew across his face.
“I don’t like the sound of this,” Landon said with a weary tone to his voice.
As Corina pulled up to the stop light, Miles looked over at the kid with a wink. “What’s life without a little excitement?”
Miles could hear him gulp from across the car. Corina roared down Broad Street as Miles weaved through traffic.
“Fucking cabby! Move!” Miles yelled out as he was nearly clipped by a taxi driver going no less than ninety miles an hour through Center City traffic.
“Lunatic,” Miles griped.
“Dude, where are we going?” Landon asked with a nervous edge to his voice.
Miles was still singing along to the song that blared from the radio, so he didn’t bother answering until the last word was sung. Finally, Miles answered him in the most nonchalant voice that he could muster, “South Philly.”
It was the place where all this bullshit began. But today, I’m not on business. Today, I’m just fucking hungry and I have a hankering for some Mi Famiglia grub. The corner café might look like a hole in the wall to an outsider, they have the best damn food in South Philly. Think mussels, linguini… hell, they even serve up a mean cheesesteak. It has been forever since I had a decent meal. The kid, though I wouldn’t exactly call him scrawny, looks like he could use a good meal, too. Mi Famiglia also happens to be wise guy central.
“Please tell me you just wanna see a Phillies game, or something,” Landon said, his leg tapping up and down. The further into South Philly they went, the more Landon’s anxiety showed.
Cutting through the city, Broad Street was a major artery. It was always crowded, always full of activity. You can see the best of the city, from the theatres and restaurants that line Broad Street in Center City to the clusterfuck of beggars, prostitutes and fast food restaurants at Broad and Snyder. Nothing had changed since Miles last saw it. Sure some of the store names weren’t the same. But the shuffle? The coming and going of people? The stark contrast of poverty and wealth? It was all the same. Broad and Snyder. Miles knew this intersection well. It was a crossroad of his own life. Freedom and Incarceration.
The light turned green and Miles hit the pedal as fast as he could, leaving the intersection behind him. Seeing the place where he had fled for his life only to be arrested set his teeth on edge. Miles sped past South Philly High, careened past Methodist Hospital, and made a sharp turn onto Wolf Street. It was like no time had passed at all.
“Come on, man,” Landon complained. “The Penrose diner is right down the street! Why Mi Famiglia?”
Miles rolled his eyes at his kid brother. “Fuck off. I’ll eat where I want.”
Landon gave Miles a look as if he now knew with certainty that his older brother was certifiably insane. There was symbolism to the location of Miles’s first meal as a free man. It was the place where the Capadonnos had tried to execute him. Tried and failed. It was at the Mi Famiglia restaurant that Vic Schiabetta had shot out the front window, with a bullet aimed right for Miles’s head. The cold truth of the matter was, it wasn’t just Vic’s doing. He was a foot soldier, following orders from capo. Vic followed orders from a man who should have had Miles’s back. The thought that they were returning to the restaurant sent shivers up Landon’s spine.
“You comin’ or what?” Miles asked him with a smirk growing from his lips.
Throwing his head back, Landon appeared to be fighting with himself about entering th
e establishment.
“Fine! We’re not staying all damn day though!” Landon spat.
“You got that right. I’ve got a woman I need to see and business that needs handling,” Miles replied coarsely as he opened the front door. As the bell over the front door rang, all eyes were on Miles. Miles’s silhouette darkened the doorway of the restaurant as seventy-two pairs of eyes drilled to his face. Some of the patrons stared up at him in anger, others in fear. But all of them, every last one, looked up at Miles Capadonno with respect. They all knew, you never cross a Capadonno. They weren’t exactly known for their forgiving nature. There was something about the looks on all of their faces that gave Miles a deep sense of satisfaction.
“Mr. Capadonno,” Rita Marone said in a thick South Philly accent. She looked surprised to see Miles. “What a pleasure seeing you here!”
The look of trepidation in Rita’s eyes didn’t match the warmth of her voice.
“It’s Cormack now, Mrs. Marone,” Miles said, correcting her gently. Nodding her head, Rita’s expression changed into one of deep approval.
“Good for you, Miles,” Rita said as she placed a hand on Miles’s arm, partially covering the skull on his sleeve tattoo. “Your mom and I, we go way back, you know.”
Miles nodded politely as he stepped out of the doorway to let Landon through.
“Do you remember my kid brother, Landon?” Miles asked as he pointed towards the kid. In typical Landon fashion, he grinned from ear to ear. As Miles watched Landon grin at Rita, he began to wonder if the kid’s got even a drop of Capadonno blood in him.
My mother must’ve had some side action. For all I know, Landon could be the mailman’s kid.
“Oh, yes! I remember Landon!” Rita gushed. “You were just a baby when I saw you last…”
“Hi, Mrs. Marone,” Landon said with a wave of his hand.
Rita glanced at Landon, then back at Miles. She continued to compare their faces with her eyes until a wicked smirk formed on her face.
“What?” Miles asked as a smile grew on his own face.
Miles Away (Carrion #1) Page 3
