by S. C. Ellen
“Oh, of course, you can, have a good day, Mr. Pentalini!”
And with that, we leave the school and walk to the black Cadillac that’s waiting for us at the front steps.
One of the men guarding Vinny gets into the driver’s seat, as Vinny takes the passenger, and I sit in the back with the other meathead. I stare at the driver, noting that I’ve never seen him before. Vinny notices my questioning gaze and introduces him for me.
“Carson, this is my brother-in-law Romario. Romario, this is Carson.”
He gives me a brief nod through the rearview mirror, and I give one back in acknowledgment, never caring for proper formalities.
“So, a whole football team, huh?” the Romario guy asks, pulling out into the traffic-congested city.
I shrug in response. “They deserved it. I would have gone ten more rounds with them if I could. Bastardos.”
Vinny and the Romario guy give each other looks that I can’t read. A sly smile overtakes Romario’s features. “When are you going to do it, Vincenzo? The kid needs an outlet.”
My brows furrow together, wondering what the hell they could be talking about.
“He’s not ready, Ro. In due time he will be, in due time.”
And with that, the conversation is dropped, starting up a new one that leaves me feeling even shittier than I did before.
“My poor tesoro was heartbroken that I had to leave her birthday party so suddenly. You should have seen the look on her face,” Vinny’s head shakes, letting out a low chuckle. “That girl will be the death of me, I swear it.”
Romario chuckles lightly, “I can’t wait until Val and I have some kiddos of our own, she’s been praying for it. Lord knows we’ve been trying for a while.”
I tune the rest of the conversation out, beating myself up over the fact that I managed to ruin the birthday party of a nine-year-old girl all because of the mess I always seem to create.
I run a defeated a hand through my messy curls, bitterly. Why must I cause so much fucking disaster? Why can’t I just be normal?
I can feel myself spiraling further and further down into the darkness with no way out in sight.
That night, as I’m staring up into the onyx-colored sky, Vinny enters my room, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
“So, are you going to tell me what really happened today?” he asks with a knowing look.
I ignore it and shrug it off. “There’s nothing to talk about, Vin, it happened and that’s all there is to it.”
“Bullshit, son. A person doesn’t just take out a whole football team, injuring them to the point where it’s probably the end of their season, and just sweep it under the rug. It doesn’t work that way, kid.”
I let out a breath, contemplating whether or not to tell him the truth. The truth that has been eating at me all day. I decide it’s either now or never.
“I can’t explain it to you without sounding like a… like a monster.”
Vinny taps the side of the bed, silently telling me to take a seat next to him. I do, and he wraps a comforting arm around my shoulder.
“Whatever it is, Carson, you can tell me. I may not be your biological father, but that sure as shit doesn’t stop me from treating you like you were my own flesh and blood. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, you can tell me.”
I let out a sigh, laying out my truths to the only person I know I can confide in no matter what the circumstance may be. “That stupid Phillip kid constantly targets women like they’re nothing more than dirt to him. He bullies them, makes them cry, and I even saw him push a girl before. So he shoved into me today, and I couldn’t stop myself. I wanted to hurt him. Really, really hurt him. Especially when he mentioned my father.” I pause, trying to calm the anger that’s threatening to rise at the reminder of today. “He picks on innocent people all the time, and it’s not right, Vinny. So, I just… I snapped. I couldn’t control myself. All my anger, my frustration, just erupted, and I couldn’t stop it. And you know what the worst part about it was?”
He doesn’t answer, only encourages me with a nod to go on.
“The worst part about it was that I enjoyed every second of it. The blood, the feeling of my fist connecting with flesh and bone, the power I held, the look of fear in their eyes, just the rush of it all. Vinny, I loved it, and I wanted more of it. Just like the first time. Doesn’t that make me sick? Doesn’t that make me a monster?”
Sadness casts across Vinny’s gaze. “We all have demons and monsters inside of us, my son, and we each have ways of feeding them. In the world we live in, these monsters can either be your best friend or your worst enemy, depending on how well you control them.”
“What do you mean?”
“If I had any doubt before, I now know you will do well in this life, you just need the right guidance to lead you. You aren’t ready yet, but in due time I know you will do me proud, son.”
Confusion courses through me. “You’re talking in riddles, Vinny, I don’t know what you mean. What life will I do well in?”
“The one you were always destined for.” He pauses, letting that seep into the air between us for a moment, before continuing on, “You asked me if that made you a monster, feeling that way toward violence? No, my son, that does not make you a monster, it makes you a protector. You protect the ones you care about, no matter what, and that is what a man is supposed to do. However, you must control those urges, before they control you, and you won’t always have me to come and clean up the mess like today.” He gets up, reaching for the door, but I stop him.
“What if… what if I can’t control them? What if one day I snap and can’t come back from it?”
“Then that is by your own choice, my boy. Darkness doesn’t invite itself in, you invite it.”
Alayna
Sitting on the carpeted floor of my bedroom, I tap my pencil along the page that I am writing on. So far, I have:
Dear Carson,
I guess I should probably start off by telling you a little bit about myself. My name is Alayna Marie Pentalini. I am 12 years old and live in a state called Michigan (If you look on a map it’s the one that looks like a giant mitten!). I love chocolate, puppies, and the scent of vanilla. I am too nosy for my own good, at least that’s what my poppa says, and that’s why I am writing you this letter. I have asked him about you every day since my 9th birthday party.
Lenny, aka one of my dad’s bozos, said you were in trouble that day. I don’t know what kind of trouble you were in, but I hope you’re okay now. Poppa doesn’t share much about you, besides the fact that you are a few years older than me, without a family, and that’s why he flies out to New York sometimes to see you. So, you won’t be lonely.
It makes me super sad to think about because no one should have to be lonely, especially in a big city like New York! It’s always been my dream to go there, but I know it will never happen. Poppa says the safest place I can be is in Michigan where he and his men can keep an eye on me. But if Michigan is so safe, then why can I barely ever leave my house except to go to school? And why do I need his stinky men following me around everywhere I go?
I have a secret to confess… Even though I have a family, sometimes I feel like how you do. Lonely. Like I am a princess locked in a tower, waiting for someone to come and save me. But you know what? Why does someone have to save me? I can save myself, and I can’t wait until I grow up so I can prove to my father that I don’t need his protection, and I can live normally like all the other girls at school do…
I never admitted that to anyone, not even my best friend Tessa, and I don’t know why I think writing to you will answer my questions or even help me at all, but something tells me that you might know a thing or two about what I’m talking about.
I’m not sure how this letter will even get to you without my father knowing, but I just feel like maybe you could use a friend, too. So, here I am.
I will put this letter inside—
Suddenly my door flies open, and my bro
ther comes barging in. His eyes land on the paper in front of me, and an evil glint grows across his face.
“What’s that you’re writing?” He makes his way inside the room and yanks the paper out from under me.
“Hey, give that back!” I jump up, but he holds it high above his head, far from my reach.
“What? Your secret love letter?”
“It is not!”
Rip.
Pieces of my heartfelt letter scatter all around me as my brother sprinkles the torn pages like confetti falling all around me.
My heart sinks, and tears well up in my eyes. He makes me feel stupid and slightly pathetic for ever writing it in the first place.
Gosh, what was I even thinking?
“I hate you!” I shriek as he snickers his way out of my room, and I’m left feeling even more lonely than I’ve ever felt before.
Carson
Seventeen years old
“Have you changed your mind about moving to Michigan yet?” Vinny begins, stirring the pasta around on his plate before eating it.
I inwardly sigh. “It’s better this way, Vin.”
“For who? For you, Carson?”
“For everyone.”
His fork clinks on the table. “You are seventeen years old, son. You can’t avoid letting other people in forever besides Elliot and me. It’s not right to isolate yourself. You need guidance, you need a family, Carson.”
“I have all the guidance I need. Elliot’s mom treats me like a second son, and I have you. I don’t need anyone else. I’m fine.”
“But I can be there for you more than I am right now, Carson. You are a growing into a man. Just come with me to Michigan—”
“No,” I interrupt. He looks at me confused, almost angry, like he never had someone say that to him before. It makes me quickly rephrase what I just said. “I’m older now, Vin, I understand things a lot more than when I was six. You never wanted this for yourself, it was forced upon you. I was forced upon you. You have your own family outside of all this. I’ve already burdened your life enough, I won’t do that to your family.”
He looks angrier than he did before. The glass of whiskey in his hand is nearly shaking out of its tumbler from the force. “A burden, Carson? Is that what you think you are?” He slams his glass down on the table, the contents spilling over the edges. “Don’t you ever dare look me in the eye and say those words again, you understand me?”
I don’t respond. Vinny never raises his voice at me, and quite frankly, I’m never intimidated by anyone, but the look he is giving me right now makes me feel otherwise.
“No one tells me what to do, I do whatever the hell I damn well please. No one forced me to do anything, and no one ever will. I won’t ask you again, but the next time you say no to me—will be the last time that you do. Capisce?”
I give a stiff nod before his phone begins to ring, and he goes into the other room to answer it.
“Merda! What do you mean you let him get away? You find that bastardo, and once you do, tell him that he is going to wish he never stole a fucking thing from Vincenzo Pentalini!”
My brows furrow together, overhearing the brief conversation happening in the other room. Who the hell stole from Vinny, and what did they steal? From what I’ve gathered, Vinny’s in the stock market business, so could it have been money?
It isn’t long before he comes back in looking more stressed than usual.
“Is everything okay, Vin?”
He gives a terse nod, “It will be.”
“Is there anything that I could do to help?”
He puts on his long trench coat and matching hat. “Maybe one day.”
Before I can question it, he leaves without another warning.
I shrug off my confusion and decide to go over to Elliot’s for the night.
I make it up the front porch steps, and the door suddenly flings open.
“Oh, shut up, you old hag. All you do is sit on your ass all day and watch your stupid shows!” Harold, Elliot’s father, stumbles out of the doorway, nearly tripping down the stairs.
He sees me, and a strong scent of cheap liquor oozes out from his breath as he passes by. “Carson, do yourself a favor, boy, and never get married. It’ll ruin your damn life.”
Ignoring him, I step inside the house, and find Elliot’s mom, hastily trying to hide the liquor and beer cans from view.
“Everything okay, Mrs. Debra?”
She takes a deep breath before answering, “Yes, Carson, Elliot is upstairs,” she dismisses with a tired tone.
I knew Mr. James wasn’t the world’s greatest father, but this was extreme—even for him.
I find Elliot in his room, listening to music on his CD player. He takes off his headphones and sits up in his bed.
“Did he leave yet?”
I nod.
“Thank God.” He gets up, putting on his shoes.
“Where are you going?”
“You mean, where are WE going.”
“What do you mean?” I question again, growing frustrated.
“You know Max Webber?” Elliot asks, tying up his sneaker. I nod in response. “Kid’s parents are out of town, so he’s having a party.”
“And we are going because…”
“Because my girl, Lola, invited us, that’s why.”
“I thought your girl was Mia.”
He shrugs, “Her? Please. That was yesterday’s chick. I’m on to bigger and better things, if you know what I mean. Now, come on, let’s see if we can steal some booze from my dad’s stash.”
After a few minutes, with our coat pockets full of beer—hidden from view, of course—we’re finally ready to leave.
Max only lives a couple of blocks down, and the March air is nice enough to walk in.
Elliot pulls out a pack of cigarettes and lights one up. “You want one?”
I accept the offer and take a drag, realizing I actually enjoy the taste of it.
We reach the house in record time, and it’s in full party mode. Electric dance music is coming out from the large speakers, people are already trashed, and the smell of weed is strong.
“Well, well, well… if it isn’t Mr. Eli.” The girl, what was her name again—Lilly, Lola—approaches us as soon as we walk in the door. Her dress is as skanky as she is, and her brown hair is cut up to her ears. She reminds me of the pixie dolls Vinny’s daughter, Alayna, is often pictured with.
“Well, well, well… if it isn’t—” Elliot pauses, contemplating something in his head. Knowing him, he’s probably already forgotten the broad’s name, as well.
“Lola, it’s Lola,” the girl answers offensively.
“That’s what I was going to say, baby!”
She rolls her eyes, “Yeah, whatever.”
She walks away, and Elliot trails after her. “Come on, baby, don’t be like that!”
And on that note, the night is more or less uneventful from there.
It’s close to midnight when I eventually make my way back home. I fully expect to find Vinny already there by the time I walk in through the door, so it’s a bit odd when I notice that he isn’t.
I shrug it off, thinking nothing more of it. He’s probably still dealing with whatever business he needed to take care of from earlier.
It’s when I’m making my way through the hall to get to my room that ringing from his office catches my attention.
It’s an unspoken rule in the house to avoid that room at any and all costs, but it’s unusual for Vinny to leave his phone at home.
I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol or weed that’s flowing through my system that makes me think that this is a good idea, but I hesitantly walk into the room and pick up the phone. I’m not familiar with the number on the caller ID, but I answer it anyway.
Before I have the time to even say ‘hello’, the voice on the other line speaks.
“The coke has been sold. They said it was the freshest fucking Columbian snow they’ve ever tried! I’m on my way to pi
ck up the money now. Just letting you know in case shit goes down with those damn Russians again. I’ll stay in touch.” And just like that, the line goes dead.
I hold the phone in my hand for what feels like forever, trying to process what the man just said. Coke? Being sold? And why would shit go down with Russians?
What the fuck kind of shit is Vinny involved in?
Setting the phone back down onto the desk, my eyes catch hold of a file. I contemplate whether or not I should open it, or just get the fuck out of here and pretend like I never saw or heard anything.
My eagerness overrules my logic, and I find myself dissecting every page and word I can get my hands on. The file holds stacks of documents, including detailed reports of a few well-known mayors and governors. Pictures of them at charity events, auctions, and even to my surprise, a sex club—all completely unaware that they were being photographed.
More files and death reports of all kinds of people stashed throughout the rest of the office leave me more confused than before.
What could Vinny possibly need with all this information?
I’ve never been one for snooping, but I’m getting older now, and I need answers and Vinny isn’t letting up.
Going through one of the many storage cabinets, a box of pictures falls out and scatters all around the wooden floor. This time, I notice they’re of him and his family. Some of him and his wife, others of his son, but mostly of his daughter, Alayna. In each picture, she grows to be more and more beautiful than the one before, looking like a real-life doll.
A real-life angel.
One of the pictures catches my attention, in particular; it’s one of her and another girl displaying big goofy grins, hugging onto each other as if they’re the best of friends. It’s sweet.
After getting a small peek into Vinny’s other life, I pick up the discarded pictures and place them carefully back into the box.
I’m not very fond of having my picture taken, so Vinny had none to share. Not that I need any reminders of my sorry existence anyway.
The creaking of the front door sets my body into alarm, and I haul ass right out of that room.
