Drifter

by Janine Infante Bosco

  After the biker fiasco I had an epiphany of sorts. It was time for me to put myself out there and not to score a deal but to make a life for myself. I was all work and no play, a recipe to become the old lady with six cats and a closet full of shoes she never wore. I needed to have fun, mingle some and let lose.

  I needed a wingman.

  But working twelve to eighteen hour days didn’t leave much time to make many friends. The close friends I had were business associates, men who taught me the ropes of a business I conquered at twenty-seven.

  I had cousins.

  A ton of them.

  But there was only one I actually still spoke to, and that was my cousin Celeste. She was my father’s brother’s daughter, and they were the only members of the family that didn’t engage in illegal activity. Uncle Sal was a mechanic and Aunt Nancy was a para in an elementary school. They didn’t run in the same circles the rest of the criminals in my family did. In fact, Uncle Sal disowned my low life father.

  Rocco Spinelli Sr. was a drug lord. Yep, he even got deported back to Italy when I was a kid. Of course my mother being the devoted wife she was packed me and my brother up and forced us to live in Italy. One would think being deported would’ve been a wake-up call for my old man. His crimes had been the forcing hand that uprooted our lives, but that didn’t matter to him. He was selfish as the day is long and a greedy bastard who took and took until karma kicked him in the balls.

  Karma came dressed in a suit with a flock of men behind him, and his name was Umberto Gallo. Gallo was a notorious mobster in the town my father was born in and he didn’t like the idea of my dad selling heroin on his cobblestone streets. My father was shot forty-seven times and his death became our freedom.

  My mother moved us back home to New York, shutting out the rest of our family including her sister Grace and my uncle, mob boss, Victor Pastore. Her reasoning was the mob killed my father and though some might say he deserved it, the woman who was blinded by love did not agree. The mob would never touch what was hers again and for that reason alone she disowned her sister.

  My mother was diagnosed with breast cancer not long after we returned to America.

  My father never earned a legit dollar in his life. All his money was cash, never paid taxes and sure as hell didn’t invest in an insurance policy. My mother was a single mom, worked as a waitress and raised us on her tips. We had state funded medical insurance and Slone Kettering didn’t accept Medicaid. Not that it mattered if they did. She never would’ve lost a day’s pay for treatment. Where would that leave us?

  It left us motherless.

  She passed away and my brother, Rocco, went to my Uncle Vic and asked him to help us pay for her funeral. Two months later I was living in a dorm in Pennsylvania and my brother was living in a condo in Miami. I graduated college with a bachelor’s degree in business and Rocco graduated from the school of hard knocks.

  Rocco could’ve been anything, but he chose to throw his life away. He claims he’s trying to make a name for himself, one that isn’t associated with the disgrace and dishonor my father left behind, but no good will ever come from him working for Uncle Vic. Especially now that he’s rotting in prison for the rest of his life and my brother is running his interests in Florida. It’s only a matter of time before the mob bleeds into the legit lifestyle he claims to live.

  It probably already has but then again, I wouldn’t know. We don’t speak.

  Not for lack of trying on my behalf.

  He calls on holidays, sometimes on my birthday if he remembers, but always on Christmas. And on our mother’s birthday he always flies in and visits her grave.

  Aside from Celeste, I’ve got no one, and Celeste isn’t really a party animal. She’s a single mom of a one-year-old and a full time nurse. Her story isn’t for the faint of heart; in fact, her story is what Lifetime movies are made of.

  I should’ve known she’d show up early, and I bet tonight she’ll be staring at her phone all night waiting for it to ring. She’ll make an excuse that Skylar needs her when Aunt Nancy probably already has her tucked into bed for the night.

  She needs to let loose just as much as I do, if not more.

  Tonight.

  Tonight we’ll be two girls who don’t carry the weight of the world on their shoulders. Tonight we’ll be fun, carefree and let the night take us wherever we’re meant to be.

  Determined, I pull open the door and grin at my unsuspecting cousin.

  Only it’s not my cousin standing in front of me.

  It’s my brother.

  My fucking brother and he’s dressed to the nines—well, except for the dress shirt that’s halfway unbuttoned. The last time I saw Rocco was in Miami and he was wearing linen pants and a wife beater tank top.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I question as I lift my eyes to his.

  “Nice to see you too, sis,” he growls, raking his fingers through his already messy hair.

  “I’m on my way out.”

  “No, you’re not,” he replies, pushing passed me as he strides into my apartment.

  “The hell I’m not,” I sneer. “Look, I don’t know how long you’re in town for but call my office tomorrow and maybe we can catch up before you go back home,” I say exasperatedly, glancing down at the watch on my wrist before lifting my gaze back to him.

  “Call your office,” he repeats, unbuttoning his suit jacket and shoving a hand into his pocket as he glares at me. “Look at you, all grown up, thinking you’re holier than thou,” he says, cocking his head to the side as he bites his cheek. “I wonder if Mommy would be proud of the little bitch you became.”

  “Not as proud as the thug you wound up being I’m sure,” I bite back.

  He smirks at me in that condescending way of his that tells me he doesn’t give a shit what I think of him. He doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything but himself.

  “I’m sure,” he replies sarcastically as he steps closer. “I didn’t come here to catch up, little sis, or to swap insults with you. I think it’s safe to say our mother would roll in her grave if she knew what either of us became,” he points out.

  “I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve made a damn good life for myself,” I seethe.

  “Yeah, fancy clothes and savings account will keep you happy for the rest of your life. You should probably look into getting yourself a cat or something.”

  “Fuck you, Rocco. What do you have? A nightclub? A parade of whores throwing themselves at you?”

  “I’m not in the nightclub business anymore. You’d know that if you bothered picking up your fucking phone.” He pauses, shoving his other hand into his pocket. “You know what she’d hate most? She’d hate that we can’t stand one another.”

  There’s no arguing that.

  I divert my eyes away from him because his words are true and they sting. Our mother would be miserable that we grew apart. I don’t hate Rocco, but I sure as hell resent him for all the ways he acted, all the choices he made after our mother died.

  “Why are you here?” I ask quietly.

  “Because even though I can’t stand you, you’re still my sister and I made a promise to our mother on her death bed I’d always look out for you.”

  “I’m a big girl, Rocco. I’ve been looking out for myself for some time now, but thanks anyway.”

  “For fuck’s sake Gina, I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me to,” he hisses. He moves like lightning, grabbing me by my shoulders and shakes me slightly. “Check your fucking ego and listen to what I’ve got to say.”

  “Take your hands off me,” I sneer, lifting my own to shove his off me.

  “Stubborn as shit you are,” he says, dropping his hands to his sides as he takes a step backward. “You turn on the news lately or are you too wrapped up in your fucking bubble to pay attention to anything else?”

  I cross my arms against my chest and glare at him as he blows out a strangled breath
.

  “Uncle Vic started a riot in prison and killed a powerful gang leader. No,” he shouts as I open my mouth to reply. “Shut it, Gina, and for once in your goddamn life listen to what I’ve got to say. There’s a possibility of retaliation, a real fucking strong possibility and everyone associated with the organization is at risk of being the target.”

  “Why are you telling me this? I haven’t seen any of them in years. I sincerely doubt any of Uncle Vic’s goons know I’m a branch on the family tree.”

  “You’re right no one would probably connect you to him but they’ll connect you to me,” he says, gaging my reaction and then it hits me. It becomes clear, the suit, the impromptu visit, even the strained expression on his otherwise stoic face. The resemblance to my uncle is uncanny.

  “You,” I whisper, shaking my head as my eyes travel the length of him and I watch him subtly shove his hand in his pocket, revealing a glimpse of the holster hidden beneath his jacket. “You’re not just visiting New York are you?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Jesus, Rocco, what the hell did you do?” He doesn’t answer and stares at his fancy shoes. “Mommy…”

  “Mommy hated the mob because they killed our father but our father was a low life criminal who deserved every fucking thing he got. I’m the asshole who has to carry the humility of his name and I’m sick of being associated with the legacy of shit he left behind.”

  “So, take Uncle Vic’s place and be what? A high profile criminal? A glamourous mobster? You’re delusional. No, you’re pathetic, pathetic because for someone who tries so hard not to follow in his father’s footsteps you’ve slipped right into his shoes.”

  I watch his jaw tick and his eyes narrow but he doesn’t open his mouth to speak. I’ll never get an explanation from him because he’s taken an oath of silence. His secrets, his crimes, everything that taints his soul is his burden to carry until his dying day.

  “Um, the door was open,” Celeste says, interrupting the stare off we were having as I turn and see her standing in the doorway. “I can wait downstairs,” she offers, looking back and forth between me and my brother.

  “I’m leaving,” Rocco grunts, turning his attention back to me. “There will be a guard posted at your door in the morning. He’ll be respectful of your work but he will never be too far. You try to ditch him, Gina, and I swear on our mother’s grave I will plop my ass at your job every fucking day and all the rich folk will know where you come from,” he warns, his tone cold as ice as he strides out my door, pausing in front of our cousin.

  “It’s a family fucking reunion,” he mutters, before he disappears down the hallway.

  I look around my apartment and grab the first thing that comes into sight, throwing my keys against the wall as I let out a frustrated shriek.

  “It’s always a good time when Rocco visits,” Celeste says sarcastically as she kicks the front door closed. “Should I get the takeout menus?”

  I spin around, frowning at her as I shake my head.

  “Fuck that. He’s not visiting and I’ll be damned if my brother will dictate my life. Nice try though, you definitely get an A for effort.”

  Grabbing my keys off the floor, I brush past her and open the door.

  “Let’s go,” I order, holding the door open for her. “I need a drink. Or six.”

  “Fine, maybe Rocco’s still downstairs and we can ask him to give us a lift in his Maserati,” she says pointedly as she steps out of the apartment and I close the door.

  “Fuck him and his Maserati.”

  Fuck his guard.

  A guard! He’s lost his fucking mind.

  Fuck the mob too.

  My brother’s the new boss of New York.

  Fuck everything.

  Chapter Nine

  It’s become a way of life.

  Locked and loaded, always looking over my shoulder, allowing my senses to guide me as I wait for the enemy to strike. Like the grainy photos of a terrorist I used to be given and trained to hunt, Prez hands us a photo of some motherfucker named Charlie Teardrops and tells us to keep our eyes open. The enemy didn’t wear the usual garb, he wore leather. He wasn’t some sand nigga looking to fucking destroy innocent American lives because a man in a fucking cave told him to. Nonetheless, Charlie Teardrops was still looking to fuck with the unsuspecting innocent. He was just as much a terrorist as the man in a cave. Both were fucking with the youth of a country, making the world they grow up in downright ugly.

  The president of the Corrupt Bastards MC was looking to flood the streets with drugs and move in on the territory of our club. Since our club had alliance with Victor Pastore, the gangster who whacked the guy who funded the rebirth of Charlie’s club, the Satan’s Knights were an open target—just as much as the family Victor Pastore left behind, the family Jack swore to care for as his own.

  So here we are, a bunch of sitting ducks waiting around because Jack’s getting hitched and we’ve all vowed to play nice until Reina becomes property of Parrish. If I was back in Albany, where men didn’t have heart and all they had in their bed was some dried up pussy to keep them warm at night, Charlie and his crew would be extinct already. But here in Brooklyn the men didn’t just have heart; they had love, and that of good women. They hung onto that shit with everything they had, put their women and their families before the mayhem, before the reaper on our backs. That’s some honorable shit right there.

  Shit, I ain’t used to.

  Glancing around the table, I try to understand how my brothers go about their days normally but come up short-handed. How can Linc sit here and shove tacos in his mouth while we’re waiting for Satan? The same thoughts ran through my head after 9/11. I used to feel like I was a man in a bubble looking at the world from the outside, trying to wrap my head around how the world kept spinning after such a horrific act. I would watch the news night after night wondering why we didn’t avenge the deaths of those innocent people in the towers, in the Pentagon and that field in Pennsylvania. Why did that motherfucker get to breathe? Why did his smug face have the chance to make a video admitting he was the man behind the devastation?

  I felt the anger for my country and the people who lost their lives down in my bones and that’s another reason I ran toward the chaos without hesitation. Most people remember exactly where they were, exactly what they were doing when those planes hit the towers. I’m the guy who remembers where he was and what he was doing when he first heard that Bush had sent our soldiers into Afghanistan. Every time I buy a case of beer I remember that day in the supermarket when I lifted the twelve pack of Budweiser from the shelf and heard our country was at war over the loudspeaker.

  The sounds of war fill my head.

  Gunfire.

  Cries.

  Curses.

  Bombs.

  The Afghani language.

  “Yo, Stryker! Earth to Stryker,” Linc shouts, waving a hand in front of my face and forcing me to leave the battle in the past.

  “What?” I question, lifting the Corona to my lips knocking back the beer until all that’s left is the lime inside the bottle.

  “Dude, the waitress is waiting to take your order,” he says, looking to the young girl standing beside me. Shit, I didn’t even realize she was standing there.

  “I’ll take another,” I say, holding up my empty beer bottle.

  “Sure, anything else?”

  “I’ll take another beef taco,” Linc adds. “Oh and you can bring out some more of these chips with the fresh guac.”

  “Better fucking make a pit stop on your way back to the clubhouse,” Cobra mutters, peeling off the label on his beer.

  “Dude, I’ve got a lifetime supply of condoms,” Linc replies, glancing around the room. Besides, there’s no viable ass around here to drag back with me.”

  “This place is crawling with families tonight. I think it’s time we search for a new taco joint.”

  “I was referring to the sup
ply of Drain-O and the plunger you’re going to need after eating all this shit,” Cobra tells him, before twisting in his chair and averting his eyes to the corner booth and the pretty blonde sitting in it facing him.

  Pretty.

  Not pretty like the pretty girl in my dreams.

  The pretty girl I can’t get the fuck out of my head.

  “I’ve never met a bunch of pussies like you two before,” Linc says as he looks between me and Cobra. “For real.”

  “The fuck you talking about?” I growl, tipping my chin to him as the waitress places our beers on the table.

  “I’m talking about you sending me to give the pool shark the kiss-off,” he replies. Turning to Cobra he continues, “And this asshole over here won’t grab his balls and go over to the hot blonde in the corner making googly eyes at him. Pussies, the both of you.”

  “You’ve been hanging around Wolf too long,” Cobra mutters, turning back around to stare at the beer in front of him. His leg starts to twitch and I look over his shoulder to the blonde who is staring at his back.

  “Do you know her or something?”

  “No,” he replies instantly.

  “No?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

  “Another life.”

  I’m about to question him more when I glance back to the booth and watch the person she’s sitting with slide from the booth and turn around.

  Green eyes.

  Green fucking eyes that keep a man company when he wraps his hand around his dick and wishes he had the body they belonged to.

  “Shit,” I hiss.

  “Oh man, just when I thought tonight was a total wash,” Linc taunts, rubbing his palms together.

  I keep my eyes trained on her face, wishing both that she’ll turn and give me her eyes and that she won’t notice me at all.