Single Dad Boss: A Small Town Romance

by Kara Hart

  I took a small sip and set the glass down. He did the same. “I’m from the Luciotti family,” he stated, leaning back in his chair and carefully observing how I reacted.

  “Is that supposed to mean something to me?” I asked.

  “You don’t know about us?”

  “No, I don’t. Can you just tell me what the hell is going on already?” I asked, feeling as though my head was about to burst.

  “Those men in those pictures. See that one on the right, with the cigar? That’s Chris Giocanda. He was one of the first wise guys to join our crew. That was before my time, of course. I never really knew the guy. My father, however, has a lot of stories about him. Now, see that other guy? The one with the angry look on his face? That’s Joe Viatola. He was a tough son of a bitch and I knew him plenty before he died. I can go on if you’d like,” he said.

  “You’re telling me that…” I stopped speaking. There was a knot in my throat that I couldn’t swallow.

  “You had me figured out a long time ago, I guess,” he sighed.

  I whispered, glancing out of my peripheral to make sure no one else was around us “The Mafia?” I swallowed loudly, feeling my body temperature start to rise.

  “I like to use the phrase ‘organized crime’,” he said.

  I stood up out of my chair and backed away from the maniac. How many people had he killed in his lifetime? How many poor families had he run into the ground? He was evil. He was worse than Cade!

  He grabbed my arm and said “Sit down.” I slapped him clear across the face.

  “Get away from me, you maniac!” I shouted. “I'll scream! I swear to God, I'll scream!”

  “What the hell?” He felt his cheek and took a step back. “Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you. That's not my intent.”

  “Tell me … have you?” I choked out the question, feeling my body start to shake. Last night was so great. But now everything was falling apart. My old life came flooding back into plain sight. And there was the question that begged to be answered: what was I going to do? Better yet, where were Jen and I supposed to run to next?

  “Are you asking me if I've killed someone before?” he asked, somehow straight faced and calm.

  “Yes. I need to know,” I whispered, standing as near to the door as possible.

  “Yes. I have,” he said.

  I felt my body weaken. I grew faint with disgust and dread. “I need to leave now,” I whispered. I hoped to god he would let me out, that he wasn't one of those psychopaths who kept women in their freezers. “Never talk to me again,” I said.

  “Wait, you don't understand! They weren’t normal, good people.” I unlocked the door and backed out onto the porch. “They signed up for the same life as me. We all know the rules of the game,” he said.

  The rules of the game. Was that how he saw all this? A game? In any case, I didn't want to stay and find out. “Goodbye, Lucas. I wish we had never met,” I said. Jen would be out of school by now and I needed to figure out a plan of action for us. We weren't safe now. Not with Cade. Not with Lucas.

  156

  Lucas

  “Fuck!” I screamed as I destroyed every God damn thing in the house. “Mother fucker!”

  The worst part wasn't knowing my rage was useless. It was knowing I wouldn't be able to get her back. A man who lived a life of crime? Hell no. A woman like her knew better than to stay with a man like me.

  So I smashed everything in the house. The pictures on the wall, the kitchen table – everything. The bottle of wine might have been the only thing left for me there. I fell to the floor, breathing heavy and deep, and reached for the bottle. I drank that half within seconds and went to searching for more. When there was none to be found, I called my brother.

  “Ricky. It's time to burn the city down,” I said.

  He didn't even need to respond. He was there within the hour.

  His heavy footsteps echoed against the trees outside and slowly made their way to my porch. “Lucas? Oh, shit. Brother, what have you done?” He sighed as his boots crunched down on glass and debris.

  “I've had a hell of a night,” I said, smiling. My fists were eternally bloody and bruised. Shards of wood and glass penetrated my skin. I was a fucking wreck and so was everything around me. Who was I kidding? I was slowly becoming the man in front of me, another laughing stock from the Luciotti family.

  “I don't think I can drive,” he laughed. “Drank half of a fifth of whisky on the way.” He smiled. The alcohol wafted around the room.

  “Then we’ll hail a fucking cab,” I said. I needed to get out of the house. Anywhere but here. I lifted myself up and grabbed the car keys from his hand.

  “Lucas, come on,” he barely protested.

  “Since when do you care about playing it safe?” I asked him. “Fuck it. No one can touch us, right? We’re the Mafia, the underworld. We own these fucking cops. Right? That's what we always used to dream of. Remember?” I said, kicking a piece of wood out of the way, as I stumbled to his car. I got in and started the engine. Ricky quickly followed my lead.

  “Just be careful, dammit,” he said, turning serious. “You know, fuck this. I'm driving.” I shrugged and switched seats with him. Safety wasn't an issue for me right now. If that car was to crash, what did I care? Within seconds, he had the window rolled down and was screaming to the world outside.

  “I remember,” he said after some time.

  “All our hopes? Our dreams of becoming the most powerful men in the business. Now look at us,” I said.

  “Yeah. Now look at us. None of it mattered. Once we got there, it didn't seem so great did it?” he asked me. This was the first time in a long time I had seen Ricky turn serious.

  “No. I guess it didn't. But it's my job, you know?” We both laughed at that idea.

  “Yeah, some choose the 9-5 office life. We chose to kill and run illegal operations. All at the expense of our life,” he laughed.

  “Yeah, well, it's not like we had any choice. Look at who our father is,” I said.

  “Yes. Our father,” he sighed. There was an awkward silence, filled by the sound of our tires against the asphalt.

  “You can have the title,” I finally spat out. “I don't give a shit anymore. You want to be the head of this family? Go for it.”

  He laughed at the thought. “Are you kidding? I couldn't run this family. I've thought it over a million times. As much as I want it, I'm not the clear choice. You are, Lucas. You've always had a good head on your shoulders. I've always just been a mess. I know how much of a burden I am to you all,” he said.

  I shrugged. This was our little pity party, driving to the ends of the earth and back. “I know where we can go!” He clapped his hands loudly and stepped down on the pedal. We were suddenly darting down the freeway, going 120 miles per hour. Destination: our death, most likely.

  We pulled into a dingy parking lot, directly off the freeway. Above us was a neon sign with a giant woman on it that read “Skin Palace.”

  “Interesting name,” I said, shaking my head.

  “You've never been to Skin Palace? I don't believe it,” he said, jumping out of the car. It was one of the shadiest strip clubs I had ever seen. I got out of the car, but I wasn't very excited to check out the inside of the space.

  “Couldn't we just find a bar or something more low key?” I protested. The fucking Skin Palace? Yeah, I had heard of this place. Dad’s friends all loved it. But I didn't think anyone my age actually went to the joint.

  “There's drinks inside,” he declared. “And you clearly need a night out.”

  The doorman didn't even check our ID’s and he damn well didn't take any money from us either. He knew who we were, who our family was. It was practically their job to know these things. “Have a good night, guys,” he said as we walked into neon, bass, and glitter.

  I shielded my eyes against the artificial reality I now found myself standing inside. Tits, ass, and alcohol. What more could a man want? Well, this man didn't
want these tits and asses. This man only wanted one ass in particular. Dahlia’s. Fuck what I was. Fuck what I came from. My family had ruined what we were beginning to build together. Now there was nothing left.

  We sat down at an empty booth near the back. “Hey, Ricky!” A shrill voice shouted behind me. “We've all been missing you, baby. Where’ve you been hiding all this time?”

  “I've been around, doll,” he said. Makes sense everyone knows him here. I thought to myself.

  “You miss me or what?” she asked him, leaning her tits over our table and pressing her ass onto his lap. She was dressed in black lingerie that barely covered any of her body. She had to be around nineteen years old. I couldn't help but shake my head at Ricky.

  “You know I'm always missing you, baby girl,” he said, running his hand over the curves of her waist. She arched her back like a cat and purred for him. Her friend came up behind me and touched my shoulder.

  “Just a whisky,” I said, pushing her hand off me.

  “One whisky,” she said, still smiling. “Anything else you want? It's on the house, sweetie pie.” My eyes trailed down to her huge, fake tits. I wasn't interested. Ricky eyed me. To him it was a travesty someone could turn one of his girls down.

  “I'm okay,” I muttered. “Just the whisky.”

  Ricky looked like he was going to sock me in the face. The one girl left us to get my drink. The other girl had her arms around Ricky. “Give us a second, will ya honey?” She made a pouty face, like a child, and walked off to please another one of her sleaze ball customers.

  Once she was gone, Ricky leaned forward. “What's going on with you? Your place is trashed, you're drunk, and you're refusing to have a good time with one of the best strippers in Michigan? This is low, brother, even for you.”

  “It's nothing. I'm fine,” I said. “I've dealt with much worse.” It wasn't a lie. I’d get over this sooner or later. At least, I hoped I would. She did have some strange hold on me.

  “You can't lie to me, forever. Something’s wrong. If you tell me it’s some broad, I swear, I'll wring your neck.” He threw his arms around my neck and I made a fake choking noise. He laughed and patted my back. “Seriously though. It's not a woman, is it? ‘Cause trust me, I got a million of those sob stories. You hit a point in your life where it doesn't seem to matter. You move onto the next, like an assembly line.” For whatever reason, that cracked him up.

  “It's a little more complicated than that,” I admitted. The strip club depressed me. Woman dancing for men who thought of them as products. I used to love that shit. But now, I felt committed to a person who didn't want anything to do with me. How the hell did that even happen?

  “You're a gangster, Lucas. A fucking gangster.” He knocked on the wood table loudly. “Get your head in the game. If it's some bitch, throw her out on the curb. You don't need all that baggage. Not now. Not when the roles of power are shifting.” Behind us, the woman came back with two whiskies.

  Watching the women dance made me sick. The neon, plastic world these men dove into was so pointless and wrong. It made me want to walk out of the lifestyle and never look back. Deep down, cheap thrills never really were my bag anyway.

  “Baby, can you believe this guy? He's asking me to leave here. Says he's got a girl back at home he has to stay loyal to. He won't take no goomah.”

  “Give him one minute with my sister over there and we’ll have him back to the right side of the field. Don't you worry about that.” She moaned. I turned to look at her sister. An identical twin waved back at me and I quickly downed my whisky. Siblings? Disgusting. My brother was more insane than I thought.

  I got out of my seat and walked toward the entrance. Ricky ran after me. “Whoa, where the hell are you going? Let’s stay and have a good time.”

  “Right side of the field? Are you fucking kidding me?” I yelled, forcing the door open.

  “Aw, c’mon. What's the matter? She's just havin’ a little fun. Jasmine’s always like that. She didn't mean nothin’ by it!” he yelled, almost tripping over the steps outside. I was almost to the car when I felt his hand brush my shoulder. I stopped and turned around.

  “Look. This whole thing here,” I gestured all around me, “it’s not what I'm after. Power and all that bullshit can only take you into a ring of fire. Before you know it, you’ll find yourself burned to a crisp,” I said, unlocking the car.

  “What the hell are you talking about? Lucas, you’re my brother and I love you, but you’re not making any sense. Just come back in here and have a good time.” He grabbed at my arm, but I swatted it away. If he wanted a fight, I’d give him a fight.

  “Maybe I don’t want to make sense anymore, Ricky. Maybe this isn’t the life I wanted for myself.”

  “What’s the alternative? Move to Monroe and settle down with some whore?” He laughed and grabbed my head. “You’re one of us. You’ll always be one of us. But if you decide you don’t want to be a part of the family anymore, you better watch your fucking back. Because there’s a bullet with your name on it and you sure as hell won’t see it coming.”

  I shoved him to the ground and jerked my arm back. I was close to shattering his jaw like a bottle of bourbon against concrete. Ricky might have had all the connections in Detroit to protect him for a lifetime, but I’d been killing criminals around the world for ages. Some of those guys were a million times worse than Ricky.

  “Watch yourself, Lucas!” he screamed, dusting himself off. “You bastard. You and that whore! Watch yourselves.”

  “You know what? Fuck this.” I bent down and grabbed his collar. I jerked his neck forward, so he could hear every word I was about to say. “You’ve always been a burden on the family. But most of all, you’ve been a huge pain in my ass.” I slammed my fist into his nose. He stammered back, but he didn’t fall.

  He’s more of a man than I thought he was. I looked down at my bruised fist. Another day, another dollar, right? He dove his body into mine and I hit the concrete at full speed. My back slammed against the ground and we slide backward. I was hurt and feeling like I couldn’t take a breath. Every time I breathed in deep, my kidneys felt like they were bruised up. Of course, he didn’t let up on me. His knuckles hit my gut and I nearly blacked out from the pain.

  Somehow, I rolled him over. It’s like the adrenaline kicked in. It was him or me and I wasn’t about to lose my life. I punched him twice in the nose and once square in the jaw, and he was gone for the time being.

  “They better have my Cadillac fixed tomorrow or I swear someone’s gonna pay.”

  I drove back, once again leaving my asshole of a brother to fend for himself. I didn’t even head to the house. Instead, I just sat in a parking lot, sleeping the pain off. Moments like these helped me reconcile who I was and kept me as grounded as I could be.

  By the time day broke, I went to find my car. I was hung-over, bruised, and barely hanging on a few hours of sleep. Who knew that women and family problems were more difficult than fighting off a group of known criminals. I sure as hell didn’t and I scolded myself for not staying away. Still, the heart wants what the heart wants.

  I shielded my eyes against the sun. A loud pop and crack whizzed by my ear. “What the fuck?” I jumped, falling to the ground with my pistol in my hand, ready to blast whoever was near. I quickly realized the error in my response when three pubescent kids ran away from me screaming for their parents. They dropped a box labeled “Fireworks.” Shit. 4th of July. Forgot that was today.

  I shamefully put away my gun and straightened my collar awkwardly. It was time to get my damn Cadillac back. I pushed open the door to the old mechanic’s shop and found him sitting at a desk. “My car,” I said.

  “Yeah? What about it?” He took off his reading glasses and clicked out of something with his mouse.

  “Is it ready? I need it. It’s been about a week, right?” I said. I had the sudden urge to smoke, realizing I hadn’t had one in a few days. I felt around my pockets and felt nothing. Must’ve s
moked ‘em all. I thought to myself.

  “Remind me what the car is?” he asked, looking at two sets of keys.

  “The Cadillac,” I said, pointing at the keys in front of him.

  “Oh! The Cadillac. That’s right. Yeah, it’s been ready since yesterday. How will you be paying for it?” He opened the door to the noisy garage. My car was on the ground and ready to go. Finally.

  “Cash,” I said, throwing him a wad of that smooth green paper. He almost dropped it out of shock.

  “But you don’t know how much it cost!” He shouted. I got in the car and started the engine. Fuck. This was what I needed alright.

  “Don’t worry. It’s all there. Give the rest to your workers as a tip.” I shut the door and peeled out of there. Of course, now there was an even bigger decision to make. Did I get coffee and grub from the café or did I head home?

  For once in my life, I chose the responsible route. Dahlia clearly didn’t want anything to do with me and I felt like I had to respect her on that. After all, it’s her life. Who was I to ruin it more than it already had been? So I drove on home, to look at the destruction I had caused myself.

  I checked my watch. Two P.M. Damn, I could use some coffee right about now. I turned the corner, right past the café. It was booming. Customers waited for tables outside, conversing and having a day of it. I imagined Dahlia behind that espresso machine, tamping the coffee and pouring those shots. I could just imagine that sass, with her hands on her hips and carrying that chip on her shoulder. It was odd how much things could change in such a short time. Two weeks ago, that attitude would have annoyed the hell out of me. Now I found it endearing. What the hell was wrong with me?

  I took another left and passed the school that Jen went to. Another series of rights and lefts and I was finally close to my house. When I finally turned into the woodland area, I felt at ease. But of course that didn’t last too long.

  “What the—” I stopped the car immediately. In front of me was Jen, sitting on a stump, behind a bush. She was crying and looked about ten shades redder.