by Prince, DD
I don’t know how often he checks it but I’ve sent him a Facebook message to tell him about high school grad. I’m not counting on him making it. He’s never made it to any school plays, birthday parties, or anything else that I’ve asked him to come to. When Dad shows up it’s generally very random. I don’t know why I sent him an invite but I guess I’ve never totally given up on him. I’ve always tried to believe that people are redeemable.
Tommy
“Her name is Athena. They call her Tia. She’s yours if you want her.”
“Mine?”
“Yeah, yours.” Pop waved his hand dismissively, “For whatever.”
I was sitting in my father’s office absorbing this news, news that a nineteen year old girl was coming to me as a gift from my father, that she comes to him as payment for unpaid gambling debts. Pop said he was about to have the news of the payment arrangement conveyed to her father and then I could do what I wanted with her. “Whatever” meant I could put her on the streets under one of the pimps on my down line. I could also sell her off overseas into the slave trade and pocket the profits myself. Yeah, we had contacts in a variety of industries, including those of the seedy underworld. Looking at her photo, she’d fetch way more on the black market than the debt her Daddy owed. Way more.
Or, I could keep her for myself. My cock twitched, looking at her. Silky straight long chestnut brown hair, big jade green eyes, beautiful skin, full lips, fit yet curvy, soft-looking. She sure didn’t look like she was just about to graduate high school.
Re the down line, our family business has somewhat of an MLM set up. We receive commissions based on a variety of pursuits. Some call us mafia. I don’t really use that word. You might say I say tomato, you say tom-atto and while it’s all the same fruit, of course, there are many varieties of tomatoes. We’re businessmen. Yeah, not all of what we do is legal but it’s not all shady business deals and gambling debts, either. The way it’s set up creates multiple layers and plenty of income streams and the money flows up to the family coffers from a variety of areas, like security, construction, and a variety of retail and wholesale businesses. There’s also a grayer type of security, loan sharking, prostitution, and drugs. We deal in herb, not in chemicals, and it’s a very small part of our business.
Yeah, organized crime exists in the 21st century. No, it’s not always as glamorous as it’s portrayed on screens and it’s not always seedy, either. It’s a living. Some days are fairly ordinary. Some days are awesome. Some days we have to make tough decisions. I’d had to make many tough decisions so far and I was sure there would be many more.
My father was a working guy who was connected around town and he wanted to start his own business. So he and his best friend, a guy also connected, started a construction company. The company did well; they were smart businessmen. Over time, they saw the need for a number of other services and they had the capital to begin expansions so they could better provide for their family without paying 50% of their earnings in tax. The company has grown by leaps and bounds in the past 30 years. After the construction company, he opened a coffee shop. He now has six of those coffee shops and it’s moving to a franchising model in the next 5-7 months. He’s silent partner in some restaurants, in some hotels, a few nightclubs, too. Some of those night clubs have back room card games; some that deal in big money.
Drugs and druggies, alcohol and alcoholics, hookers, nymphos, bookies, gamblers, loan sharks… they’re always gonna be out there. Why shouldn’t we profit from it? We have the brains and the brawn and the green. And because of that we’ve got the cars, the houses, the fat bank accounts and the high tax brackets so we look above board to the tax man and have the fat rainy day funds in our mattresses, attics, basements, whatever. And this isn’t all we do; it’s just a way of supplementing things.
Why bust our chops for a bit better than minimum wage and work like a dog our whole life to put money into a retirement plan we may never get to spend? Successful men get between what men want and the source. That’s what we do. You want to bet on the races? We can help. You want to get your rocks off, find someone to cater to your fetishes? We’ll hook you up. You need money to pay off your gambling debts or start up a new venture? Guess, what? We can help there, too. It all fits like a puzzle together nicely. People need protection. People need money. People need help from builders to build those businesses they want us investing in so we do the investing and we do the building. And people need vices so that the end of a hard day they’ve had a little fun. People need to pay up, too, though.
And because men can have too much of a good thing and get caught up in the sins of the flesh and the thrill of the bet it can get dirty. Some people don’t pay their debts. Some people need to be dealt with. Sometimes people get greedy and try to take from us. We have to make hard decisions sometimes. People come to play; they must be prepared to pay.
I’m 29, Pop’s namesake, I’m inches away from taking over the family business and we feed ourselves and look after our family this way so we take it seriously. If people borrow money, they have to pay their debts. We prefer cash as our currency of choice, of course, but sometimes creative financing comes into play when someone can’t pay.
My family may be wealthy but I’ve earned my stripes, too. Pop didn’t believe in sticking a silver spoon in my mouth. He clawed his way up and believe me, he made sure I had to do the same. He called it character-building. I called him a hard ass.
I started at the bottom and worked my way up. I bought my first place, a downtown condo, with cash, no mortgage, cash I earned from age 14 to 19. No one could ever say that I didn’t deserve to sit in my father’s chair when that day came.
Sitting in my father’s office and getting told he was handing over a flesh payment on a debt to me was intriguing, to say the least. I’d never seen him take this kind of payment before.
“Why are you letting the guy pay like this? This isn’t our style. There’s more to it. Spill.”
Pop shrugged, “This was my choice, not his. Too many questions, Tommy. Just think of it as a gift. A bonus for all your hard work. Look at her.”
He pushed the picture closer. I’d already seen it. My Pop didn’t like questions, that was for damn sure. I guess I sort of inherited that quality from him. But I needed to know the whole story, particularly because he was probably only a few key decisions away from retiring. He didn’t look ready to retire, he’s only in his 50’s and looks like he’s in his 40’s. But my Pop has worked hard to build his empire and he says he wants to enjoy the fruits of that labor before he’s too old to really enjoy it.
“What kind of guy gives his daughter up for debts? The debt is measly,” I said. He looked reflective and a long moment passed. “Pop…”
“I bought his debt. There’s history. Long family history. This guy! He…” he waved his hand, “He was like one of those, what do you call… fan girls. He tried to crawl up all our asses and worm his way into the business. But he was always a liability so he didn’t get the time of day. He disrespected me many years ago. Took something from me. He paid a price. But I don’t know that his price was enough,” he tapped on his temple with his index finger, “and some nights I still lay awake thinking about what he took from me. This daughter; she’s all he’s got of any value. And look at her. I’m thinking she’s young, she’s beautiful, you could make her yours. Marry her, maybe. Your call, I know, but that’s what I think. It’d be a shame to put her to work or sell her off. I saw opportunity. I acted. Two birds with one stone. Pay this guy back by taking his last thing of value. Take her to pay his paltry debt and help our family move forward.” He shrugged like it was no biggie but was looking at me studiously. I could see that it was a biggie.
I shook my head. This was Pop’s way. He was telling me this Tia was mine to do what I wanted with but dropping his suggestion of ‘marry her, maybe’ was his way of saying, “Marry her” without outright demanding it. If I didn’t, he’d be disappointed. People know better than t
o disappoint my father. I also know that bonuses aren’t in his vocabulary so he isn’t giving her to me as a bonus, he’s got plans. But my father knows me. He knows better than to tell me what to do outright. When he really wants me to do something, he does this.
“Married, Pop? Who says I’m ready to get married?”
“Tommy, my boy, you’re almost 30! When I was thirty I already had 4 kids. You don’t become a man until you start a family of your own and need to be a family man to take over the company. You decide who you marry, of course, and this young girl, she’s part Irish, half Italian. She’s beautiful, she’s young so she can be molded into what you need her to be, and that doesn’t mean you can’t still have your fun. It’s your decision, of course, my boy…”
“I’ll think it over.”
This was the best way to handle my father. He’d been pushing me to get married since I was about 23 but never this bluntly. As his eldest son, it was expected, before I took over the company. I’d been prepped and primed to take over this company ever since I could remember. He’d drilled a lot into my head over the years and I’d jumped through hoops to prove I was worthy. Not just to him, to myself.
To him, settling down showed a commitment to family, showed I was ready to be a man, so to speak. I was sure I’d already proven I was a man many times to my father with tests I’d passed, decisions I’d made, problems I’d taken care of, opportunities and profit I’d brought the business --- he knew I had what it took. My father was a demanding prick and I’d paid the price of being his son many many times. I was all but in charge as it was already. In his mind he wanted me to do this to show everyone, his associates, his enemies…that I was ready to take the helm. It was an old school way of thinking but that was how it was with Pop.
He’d put me at the bottom of the ladder when I was 14 and made me work my way up like any other soldier that worked for him. I knew what it took to take over for him and I knew I was ready. Evidently he thought I needed to take one more step on this journey before he was willing to hand over the keys to the kingdom.
But married? He’d talked about me being married in a “someday when you’re married,” or “someday when you’re a father,” “someday when you run this business,” way for years but I’d never given getting married much thought. Pop certainly enjoyed being married, he got married often, but despite his love for walking down the aisle he wasn’t a man who believed in any sort of marriage sanctity.
Me? Women were a means to an end for me. They satisfied my desires. I had a healthy appetite and an active sex life with as much action as I wanted. I didn’t do relationships --- didn’t want to, didn’t need to. I never had the desire to get serious, to be monogamous. I knew women liked the way I looked and they liked the money, the power, but I hadn’t met anyone I cared enough about to take things to any level other than physical. Thomas Ferrano Jr. was a force to be reckoned with in and out of the boardroom, the boxing ring, the bedroom, and more and I’d been busy my whole life, proving myself, focused on the business.
I liked control in and out of the bedroom and was very partial to rough sex. I had my pick of playthings to suit whatever my fancy was on any given day. Blonde, brunette, redhead, African American, Asian, whatever. I’d certainly never met someone I’d wanted to marry or even date seriously. Dating someone? Getting serious? That’d feel too much like giving up control to me. Not interested.
Never desired having the same woman in my bed night after night, rarely was I interested in even having the same woman twice. Who needed a woman nagging me, thinking she could tell me what she didn’t want me doing, asking me inane questions that I couldn’t be bothered to answer? I had no desire niggling at me yet for kids, either. I had nieces and nephews through my two sisters and the kids were fantastic but they weren’t my problem on a daily basis. Being Uncle Tommy was just fine by me.
Married? Sheesh. I knew how Pop’s brain worked and to him, it was necessary and I’d need to do it to get what I wanted. Full control. I wanted control, control in all areas of my life. Pop was slipping just left of his prime; it was time. Pop was missing the boat on some great opportunities that could make us a lot of money and get us out of the small time game in a few areas. I could take the company to greater heights, areas that made more money and lowered our risk. If I had to get married to get him to give me the keys to the kingdom and for me to not have to run business decisions by him, maybe that’s what I’d have to do.
He and I butted heads a lot; I guess what everyone says is true; we’re a lot alike. And if I was head of the business I’d want to think about an heir to take over for me some day, rather than promoting one of my nephews.
My buddy and business associate John was married and had kids and he also had power. He and I got hammered one night at the sex club I belonged to and a conversation came up about my lack of desire to hook up with one girl night after night. He’d talked about how fucking amazing it was to have a submissive, a woman who would bow down and do anything he wanted to please him. I had that whenever I wanted. It wasn’t the same girl each time but there was no shortage of women in the club who’d pant in heat when I approached them. Johnny said I didn’t get it, didn’t understand what I was missing, how amazing it was to have her submission, her trust, her commitment. He played at the club. His wife was cool with it. His wife liked threesomes, even. And his wife didn’t tell him what to do; she yielded to him in everything. He told me there were relationship parameters and he knew what her limits were and said he had loads of room to play.
I’d laughed and slapped him on the shoulder and said, “See Johnny, that’s where you and I are different. The only way in the world that’d go down for me is if there were no limits, no safe words.”
Control. Full control. I looked at the picture sitting in front of me again and the way she looked… I thought about control. I thought about controlling the business, being in full control of my own destiny, and I couldn’t help but think about controlling her.
Pop was watching me mull things over. Fuck. I looked at him, conceding, “I’ll meet her. We’ll see.”
My father got that look on his face that he gets when everything is falling into place. That look was one of the very few things that could chill me to the bone.
Tia
Graduation day. How exciting! Two other girls from Rose and Cal’s were also graduating so today was a big day at the house. We were all “all dolled” up. My hair was up in a sleek up do that everyone said makes me look a little bit Katy Perry pin-upish. Bright red lips, smoky eyes. Rose told me I looked 25 instead of 19. I feel like I’m older, anyway. Always have. This was probably because of losing my Mom so young.
It was probably also due to being almost on my own for the better part of a year at 9. After Mom died Dad would leave me alone for hours at a time, sometimes overnight, while he nipped out to run “errands”. I learned how to make simple meals at that age, to cook and clean up after myself. At 9 I even paid the electric bill once when I noticed that there was a disconnection notice taped to our door. It was a rare occasion that my Dad’s wallet had been full of cash so while he slept off a bender I took the bill and took the money and walked the 3 blocks to the bank and paid it.
Social services hadn’t looked too kindly on it, though, when I told them about it in my interview when they’d come over to check on me after my aunt had called. I’d been proud of myself when I told them I could get myself off to school, make my own breakfast and pack my own lunch, and that I’d even paid bills at the bank with money from Daddy’s card games.
Yeah, that had gone over so well that they hauled me into care. They’d come and found me at home alone with almost no food in the fridge other than some dried out old Chinese take-out but a case of 24 beer in the fridge and nothing but some saltines and beer nuts in the cupboard. The green mat had still been on the dining room table from a poker game Dad had hosted two nights before and it was filled with crushed beer cans and overflowing ashtrays. He’d always to
ld me to stay in my locked room during those games.
Dad turned up drunk in the middle of the meeting and blubbered like a baby in front of the social worker. He was ruined after Mom died. I felt like I had to take care of him back then. Lord knew he couldn’t take care of me. I guessed that was what made me an old soul, the fact that I had to be.
Anyway, here I was all ready to graduate high school, wishing my parents were there to see me get handed my diploma, graduating on the honor roll. I didn’t know if Dad would make it. I doubted he would. I knew that Rose, Cal, and Susie, my social worker would all be there for me and that was okay.
After the ceremony we had a family celebration planned at Rose & Cal’s and tonight there was a big dance and after party planned, too. My ex-boyfriend Nick had been sniffing around me all week and I wasn’t looking forward to seeing him tonight.
I’d dumped him a month ago because I found out he was selling pot on the side from his gas station job. Some people would buy gas and when they came in to pay, He’d slip them dope. I wanted no part of that. Yeah, sure, I smoked up once in a while but I had no desire to build my future with a guy who would put his future in jeopardy. He was a loser. I didn’t like to think of my Dad as a loser but in reality, that’s what he was. I wasn’t about to get tied down with a loser of a boyfriend, too.
Nick was trying to win me back. I wanted no part of it. Nick was 22, he was gorgeous, long hair and leather jacket, tattoos, and he was a bad boy. I was attracted to the look and the swagger of bad boys for some reason, but when it all came down to it they’d get dumped as soon as they showed me their true bad boy colors. It sounded dumb, of course, because while I was attracted to them, I didn’t want to waste my time on someone going nowhere but downhill.
As I got dressed for grad I thought about the guy that had come into the ice cream parlor I worked at the other day. He’d come in while I was working my last shift and he was well-dressed, as sexy as a movie star, and carried himself with confidence. He was so tall and strong-looking. He was 100% grown-up male and so very different from Nick. Older. Somewhere near 30, I figured, and he gave me tummy flutters like I’d never had before. What would it be to date a guy like that? A guy that oozed sex appeal and power? He seemed so together. A man.
