I cut the articles out of the paper and for years, I’d look at them memorizing the tiniest of details. The officer held the chalk in his left hand. He wore a watch on his right wrist. I could tell you so many details about the detective in that picture, but could only tell you one thing about my father. He was wearing his favorite black loafers because they were all that was visible as they peeked out from beneath the sheet.
Aside, from the photos I had also memorized the articles. They said my father made the ultimate sacrifice to protect Victor. He shielded Victor with his own body, allowing the rival family to riddle his body with bullets. In the days that followed his death, I often found myself wondering if my father thought of my mother or me before he stepped in front of the gunfire. Did we cross his mind at all? Or was he too wrapped up in being Victor’s right-hand man he completely forgot about his only son and the woman who would love him until she drew her last breath?
The police didn’t arrest Victor this I know because I was sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast when he showed up to our house. His face was drawn, his eyes bloodshot the man who was always so put together looked disheveled as he broke the news to my mother and me that my father was dead. When I close my eyes and allow myself to think of that day, I can still see my mother falling to her knees. Her anguished cries haunt me from time to time. Her fists pummeled against Victor’s chest, as she screamed “NO!”
I stared into Victor’s eyes as he held my mother in his arms trying desperately to calm her down but failing miserably. I was numb as I stared at him standing in our kitchen alive while my father’s lifeless body lay on a slab in the morgue. It hadn’t seemed fair to me, I guess that’s why his death didn’t hit me right away.
We had to keep the casket closed because one of the bullets had gone through his face. At the wake, I sat beside my mother, holding her hand as she wept while I stared at his coffin disbelieving that he could be inside the mahogany box before me. My eyes glued to the array of flowers that lay over the coffin, mainly on the banner that adorned the spray of flowers that read “Beloved Father”. It felt as if I was living in a nightmare, never feeling real maybe because I didn’t see him lying in the coffin.
I never accepted it as my reality, not even when they lowered his body into the dirt. It wasn’t until Victor pulled me aside after the burial and promised in not so many words to take the place of my father to be the man I could turn to in life because the only one I’d ever known was no longer with me. It settled in then that my dad was gone. The irony of it was that the man promising to take his place robbed me of a father.
Now here he stood all these years later never living up to his promise. The bathroom door opened, and the blonde came charging into the bedroom. She stopped right in front of me shoving my chest with the palm of her hand. “Forget you ever met me Michael-- Val whatever the fuck your name is anyway.” Ah, it was good to know she was just as confused as I was in the name department.
“How about that ride sweetheart?” Jimmy offered dangling a set of car keys in the air.
“Eat shit and die.” She replied, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she glared at Jimmy before making her way out of the room. Jimmy and Anthony’s eyes followed her taut ass as it left the room no doubt appreciating the view. The front door slammed a few moments later, signaling that my chance at getting that happy ending I was shooting for was shot to hell. Jimmy turned around.
“Boy sure knows how to pick them,” he grinned wickedly. “How much she set you back?”
“I don’t pay for sex,” I ground out, clenching my fists at my sides. Anthony slapped Jimmy on the back, tearing his attention from me and back towards him.
“Jim why don’t you and I step outside and give Vic and Mike a few minutes to catch up,” he said in an even-keeled tone. Some things never change that was Anthony always controlled never flustered. Even when we were teenagers, he was the quiet one choosing only to voice his opinion when he felt strongly about something, usually being the one who made the most sense of things for me.
“Is that good with you boss?” Jimmy asked Victor. I didn’t wait for his answer. I could picture him nodding his head curtly dismissing them as only he could. Instead, I turned and walked into the bathroom. I gripped the edge of the sink, lifting my head to peer at my reflection in the mirror. I struggled to focus my eyes, willing myself silently to get my shit together. Maybe drinking myself into a stupor wasn’t the brightest idea I’ve had, but I needed to be numb. In just a few hours, the sun would rise and I’d sign the papers that would take my mother off life support. At least I’d be able to say goodbye. A privilege I never had when my father left this earth.
I turned the knobs on the faucet and dipped my head splashing the cold water on my face. On top of dealing with pulling the plug on my mother, I now had to deal with the past. I had to deal with Victor when all I wanted to do was spit in his face and send him back to wherever the fuck he came from. There was a time when he was Uncle Vic a time when my parents and I would spend every Sunday at his house. My father and he would talk business over brandy and cigars while my mother and his wife Grace cooked up a storm. There would be enough food on their table to feed the entire Pastore organization yet none of them was privy to Sunday dinner. That was just for the Valente’s and the Pastore’s. I’d sit at the dining room table sandwiched between Victor’s two daughters.
Adrianna was my age we had been raised as cousins since we were in diapers. Our mothers joked that on the day of our First Holy Communion, we looked like a bride and groom. Adrianna dressed in a white dress that was a replica of a wedding gown and myself in a white suit. For years, they would kid around secretly hoping that we would one day wind up together. Neither she nor I ever had the heart to break it to our moms that it would never be. At sixteen years, old Adrianna had fallen helplessly in love for the first time only I wasn’t on the receiving end of that love. No, her young heart belonged to Anthony.
Victor and Grace’s youngest daughter Nicole was six years younger than Adrianna and me. She was a little spitfire always trying her hardest to be older than she was to fit in with us. She was a pain in the ass. A pain in the ass that insisted on calling me, Mikey. I hated it. I could still hear her singing her nickname for me. I’d cringe much like I did just now thinking about it. Only back then, she’d smiled at me flashing me a smile full of metal. I was weak when it came to that kid, so I let her carry on calling me that ridiculous name. It was that smile of hers that got to me, braces and all. I was sixteen and Mikey was the name of a boy, a child even not a man. Still, I let Nikki call me Mikey. Hell, if I saw her tomorrow, and she decided to call me Mikey my twenty-six-year-old self would answer. I’d groan, but I’d let her do whatever she wanted. What can I say? I had a soft spot for that kid.
I shut off the water took a deep breath, deciding it was time to face the music. When I emerged from the bathroom, I found Victor was sitting at the foot of my bed. He was hunched over his elbows resting on his knees, his head in his hands. He slowly lifted his head to look me in the eye.
I crossed my arms over my chest and tried my hardest to find my voice.
“What are you doing here Victor?”
He slowly stood, rising to his full height.
“I came as soon as I heard of the accident. I hoped that it wasn’t as bad as it is. I was praying…”
“You pray?” I asked incredulously. The thought sounded ridiculous.
His lips curved slightly, but he shook his head as if he was shaking away the smile that threatened.
“I pray,” he confirmed before he paused a moment. “I wanted to be here for you.”
“Why now?” I asked harshly gritting my teeth desperately holding on to my pride.
“Son, I was only honoring your mother’s wishes all these years,” Victor whispered. His gray eyes looking into mine. I could tell he was being sincere still I didn’t want to hear it.
I squinted, not sure what he meant by that. What were my mother’s
wishes? And why were they not important anymore as she lay on her deathbed? Shouldn’t they matter still?
I shook my head. I didn’t even understand how he was here. How had he found out about her accident or the fact that she was in a vegetative state? How did Victor know there was no hope for my mother?
“She’s not dead yet,” I swallowed the lump in my throat. The words catching as I acknowledged that my mother was dying. Technically, she was dead already. There was no brain activity, but she was still here in body but not in spirit. I felt the hot rush of fresh tears sting my eyes. I would not cry in front of this man. I turned my head. “Her wishes still matter.” I croaked.
“They do, but your father’s do too, and it's high time I honor his,” Victor said quickly as if he had been reading from a script. He stepped closer towards me, causing me to step to the side. I didn’t want him invading my space.
“I promised you I’d be there for you. I failed you all these years and I will not sit here and make excuses for that, but I will not stay away and let you bury another parent. I will not let you say goodbye to your mother by yourself.”
My teeth sank into my bottom lip as it quivered. I turned my head as the tear fell from my eye. I couldn’t control it. I couldn’t stop myself. I wasn’t numb anymore. I felt my heart being ripped from my chest. I felt Victor’s words slice through me. The reality of my situation sinking in I blinked turning to face him wiping angrily away at the tear that betrayed me by falling free. I tried to prepare myself. I knew miracles weren’t granted to folks like us and that’s what it would take for my mother to make it out of this. I told myself that at least I would be able to say goodbye. I’d be able to tell my mother all the things I never had a chance to tell my father before he died. Somehow, that didn’t seem to matter anymore. Somewhere along the way, I forgot what I wanted to say. Tomorrow would come sooner rather than later and for the life of me, I didn’t know how to say goodbye.
I bowed my head, resigning to my grief and let the tears flow freely. I closed my eyes welcoming the flash of a memory of my mother’s smiling face engulf me. She was laughing as my father spun her around the kitchen dancing as they often did to one of their songs. I was just a child peeking at his parents sharing in one of life’s simple moments. A moment so pure and beautiful. A memory I will cherish. I felt strong arms wrap around me as I wept. I cried for the little boy inside who clung to the memories of his parents. I cried for the teenager who faced the crucial years without his father. I cried for the man who had to say goodbye to the only woman he ever loved. I cried in Victor’s arms.
“You’re not alone,” he whispered hoarsely.
“You’ll never be alone,” he vowed much as he did all those years ago. Only this time I silently wished he’d be a man of his word.
Chapter Two
I stared at the framed photo of my parents that I kept on my dresser wondering to myself how things had gone so incredibly wrong for my parents how their lives were both cut short tragically. I kissed the tips of my index and middle finger pressing them to the glass of the frame before stuffing the frame into my duffel bag. I zipped the bag closed, taking one last glance around my bedroom. I walked around the bed towards my closet door, grabbing the garment bag that hung from the top of the door containing my one and only suit. I hooked my finger around the hanger and threw the bag over my shoulder. I swallowed the lump in my throat gripping the handles of the duffel bag and headed towards the door.
I told myself I’d be coming back here after I buried my mother, whom I watched just hours ago draw her last breath but deep down I knew the truth. I could never come back to this place, with my mother gone now there was nothing for me here. No one was left in my life who gave a damn about me. Not that I deserved my mother’s unconditional love I have been nothing but a pain in the ass to her since the day I fucked up my knee and they told me I couldn’t play football anymore. But my mother the saint that she had been tried so hard to keep me on the straight and narrow encouraging me at every turn in my life. There was no one left to be on my side to root for my successes and bestow words of wisdom when I failed. I was utterly alone.
Irrationally, I blamed Victor and my dad now for her death. Granted, no one actually murdered my mother, but if it hadn’t been for my father dying my mother never would’ve moved us out here and never would’ve been on that interstate that stormy night. Her car never would’ve flipped three times and I wouldn’t be heading back to New York to add another name on the tombstone that marked our family plot if they hadn’t made the choices they had in life.
I had to hand it to Victor though, no matter how much of a dickhead, I was being to him, he still seemed to be trying to get into my good graces. When Victor offered me a job back home, I actually contemplated taking him up on his offer.
He wanted me to run the new nightclub he was opening. He was giving me a chance at a legitimate life respecting my mother’s wishes all the while still abiding by my father’s. I shrugged him off and told him I’d think about it not committing myself to anything. The first thing I had to do was get through this funeral.
I stepped into the living room, ignoring my audience, I made my way to the liquor cabinet. I grabbed the half a bottle of bourbon twisting off the cap I took a hefty gulp. I felt three pairs of eyes on me and could give a fuck less. I’d offer them a shot, but I was a greedy motherfucker. The liquid burned my throat and warmed my belly. I clutched the liquor bottle as if it was my salvation still managing to hold the duffel bag in my hand. I glanced over at the three men that had barged in here last night, then stood by my side while I said goodbye to my mom this morning and now waited to take me back home.
Victor slowly stood up, his eyes firmly planted on me as he buttoned his suit jacket. “You about ready son?”
It burned my ass that he called me son, but I left it alone for the time being. I took another swig of bourbon the liquid burning my throat, making it hard for me to speak. “Just about,” I croaked.
I peered at him as the dapper don shoved one hand into his pants pocket as he looked over his shoulder at Jimmy. “Jim bring the car around.”
Jimmy pulled the toothpick he was chewing on out of his mouth before nodding. “You got it, boss.”
I refrained from rolling my eyes. I couldn’t help but wonder if my father jumped at Victor’s every command much like Jimmy did.
“You can ride back with Anthony,” Victor said patting Anthony on the back as he walked passed him. “Give you two some time to catch up.” He stopped to stand right in front of me, his eyes drifting down towards the bottle I was clutching. “Go easy on that, huh.” He said with a nod of his head towards the bottle.
I brought the bottle up to my mouth grinning as I took another shot. I’ll be damned if I’m going to take orders from him. I watched his jaw tick ever so slightly and he watched me silently. I took a deep breath shuddering as the alcohol filled me. Victor stared at me for a moment the wheels in his head no doubt turning. I’m sure if I was anyone else he would’ve had a few choice words for me, but with my mother having died just hours ago he kept his mouth shut. He glanced over his shoulder at Anthony and then nodded towards the door.
He granted me one last nod before heading towards the front door. I waited a moment before I took another sip of bourbon watching as Anthony followed him to the door. I didn’t even bother to strain myself to hear what Victor said to him in hushed tones. I imagine it went something along the lines of ‘take care of him’ or maybe ‘don’t let him get drunk’. Either way I was sure my old friend was my newly appointed babysitter for the ride back home to hell.
Once Victor closed, the door behind him Anthony and I stared at one another in an awkward silence, giving me the opportunity to size him up. He was a big brute of a guy standing about six feet three inches tall with his dark hair slicked back. I swear the guy had stock in a gel company somewhere. He had the same hairstyle since I could remember the only difference now was that at the age of thirty he had some gr
ay hairs creeping along his hairline. His face was young, not a line on his olive skin. However, his crystal blue eyes were hard and uninviting when you looked at them. Anthony was as intimidating as they came. He could take you to your knees with one cold hard stare. He was wearing a black fitted T-shirt despite the cold temperatures and the fact that it was January. He had bulked up since I had last seen him not to mention he had gotten some ink. He had full sleeves of tattoos covering his arms. I guess I’d be shitting my pants if I didn’t know him or maybe if I actually gave a fuck.
“Where are your keys?” he asked, seemingly running out of patience. Someone didn’t like the fact that they had to babysit the drunken orphan. Are you still considered an orphan at twenty-six? I squinted, trying to figure out why he needed my keys. He sighed heavily. “Mike, let’s get some shit out of the way, yeah? I’m really sorry you lost your mother. I get that you’re mourning and I can’t imagine the pain you’re going through but I’m not Victor. I’m not going to remain silent and catch an attitude from your ass. I’m not into playing games don’t have any fucking patience for them. So, I’m going to ask you again where are your keys?”
I looked at him for a moment raising an eyebrow at his no nonsense tone. It was then I realized that while I was passing through one shit storm after another my brother my best friend grew up. Hell, he could’ve been married with a fleet of kids for all I knew. I’d even gather that he was high in the ranks when it came to Victor’s organization. I set down the bottle of liquor on the table reaching into my pocket for my keys I held them out towards him.
The Tempted Series: Collectors Edition Page 2
