Oh Holy Knight

by Janine Infante Bosco

  Oh Holy Knight

  The Satan’s Knights MC New York: Book Fourteen

  Janine Infante Bosco

  Copyright © 2020 by Janine Infante Bosco

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Published by Janine Infante Bosco

  Edited by: Back 2 TheWall Edits

  Cover Design: Cosmic Letters

  For everyone missing a loved one this holiday season.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  About the Author

  Also by Janine Infante Bosco

  Chapter One

  Wolf

  “Fucking Hell,” I rasp, drawing out a deep breath. My fingers wrap tightly around the leather steering wheel as I turn my head to the passenger window of my Silverado. There are seldom times when I trade two wheels for four, but I didn’t want to risk ruining the delicate pine arrangement by strapping it to the back of my bike. My gaze focuses on the scenery outside the window. The sprawling hills of Green-wood cemetery, and the bare old oak tree. Just to the right of it my youngest son, Frankie, rests for all eternity. I’d like to tell you that it gets easier, but that would be a big fat lie and while I’m a lot of things, a liar ain’t one of them.

  I pull the keys out of the ignition and open the door. My boots hit the pavement and I drag in another breath as I round the back of the pickup and pull down the tailgate. I stare at the festive blanket that lays on the bed of the truck perfectly unscathed. The fresh pine is decorated with little red ornaments and a ribbon that has red cardinals printed on it. There is also a little wooden plaque in the center that reads ‘On angels wings you were taken away, but in my heart you will always stay.’

  I carefully lift the arrangement out of the truck, bending my head to breath in the fresh scent of pine and start up the hill. A blast of wind hits me as I reach Frankie’s grave and my grip on the blanket tightens.

  If only I could’ve held onto him this tight.

  If only I could’ve kept him safe.

  If only he were still here with me.

  I wait for the wind to settle and when it does, I fall on bended knee in front of my son’s grave. For all the times I’ve visited him, seeing his name etched in stone still steals my breath and brings me back to the moment God called him home. I held his mother in my arms as he took his last breath and vowed to give his infant daughter the best life imaginable.

  It’s been an adventure living in Anna Banana’s world, but a joyous one for sure. She heals us with her smile and her bubbly personality. In a lot of ways that precious little girl is just what us Scotto’s needed to go on after such a tragedy. But even the sound of her sweet giggles can’t help me around Christmastime.

  It’s when Maria pulls out the decorations and hangs the stockings on the mantle. It’s the empty chair at the dining room table. It’s watching my two older sons raise a glass at midnight to honor their brother. Those are the times when I feel the loss most. When my heart aches and the emptiness threatens to swallow me whole.

  It’s the very reason I’ve checked out on the holidays and have relied on my brothers to oversee the timeless traditions. Everyone has done their part over the last two years. Jack and Reina have hosted Christmas Day and Pipe has organized the annual Satan’s Knights toy drive, making sure we remain prominent figures in our community. And let me not forget Riggs—if it wasn’t for him, Big Nose Kate’s wouldn’t have gotten that mention in the Staten Island Advance for being one of the best decorated places on the island. People from Brooklyn and New Jersey came to see his infamous light show. The inflatable Harley riding Santa perched on the roof was a hit. So were the bikers in the manger. The crazy fuck dressed a bunch of mannequins in leather and called them the Three Wise Knights.

  They did good.

  They did me proud.

  But as the patriarch of the Scotto family and the president of the Satan’s Knights motorcycle club, it’s time for me to take back the reins. This year we’re going to have a jolly fucking Christmas if it kills me.

  It’s the first year Anna understands the concept of Santa Claus which means her grandpa needs to put on his big boy pants and pull out all the stops. Throw my balls to the wall as my son, Enzo, would say. Anything for our Anna.

  We’re going to have an old-fashioned Italian Christmas, complete with the Feast Of The Seven Fishes. We’re going to bake cookies and hot-glue gingerbread houses because the icing never sticks and when I’m done with the lights, astronauts will be able to see my house from fucking Mars. I’m also going to have my brothers put an extension on the house to fit everyone at the table. The days of the kids sitting at a card table with their chicken nuggets and French fries are over, they’re going to sit next to their parents and develop a palate for the finer things in life…starting with scungilli. To top it all off, I even took my Santa suit out of the attic and Lou Monte’s Dominick The Donkey has been playing on a continuous loop at the clubhouse.

  The wind continues to blow around me as I lay the blanket in front of Frankie’s tombstone. I reach into my back pocket, retrieving the stakes the garden center gave me to secure the arrangement. The ground is hard from the bitter cold and it takes some force to get the stakes into the dirt. Once I’m sure the blanket isn’t going anywhere, I lean back on my haunches, bring my hands to my mouth and blow into my palms. It doesn’t do much to warm me so I try rubbing them together. When that doesn’t work either, I smack them against my thighs and sigh.

  Frankie’s name stares back at me.

  Taunting me and breaking my damn heart all over again.

  “Hi, Son,” I rasp, forcing a swallow. “It’s dad.”

  I always start with the same words and they always leave a sour taste in my mouth. It shouldn’t be like this. No parent should have to visit their child in a cemetery and be forced to talk to slab of stone. It wasn’t right when I watched Jack do it and it ain’t right now.

  “Getting cold,” I say as I straighten the ribbon on the blanket. “The weatherman says it may snow this week.” Those words make the corners of my mouth lift slightly. “As soon as Maria heard that she went and bought Anna a pink snowsuit. To be fair, I drove her and then after we left the children’s boutique, I made a stop at Dick’s for a sled. Carrie says she’s too young to go sledding and I guess she’s right, but that won’t stop me from building a little hill in my backyard. Two feet should be a good enough dip to entice her little giggles.”

  A full smile spreads across my face as I picture it.

  Oh, the joy.

  “She’s the best, but I don’t have to tell you that.”

  Our Anna has a beautiful life here on Earth, but up there in Heaven, she has the greatest guardian angel.

  Her daddy.

  “This Christmas will be the first that she actually understands and appreciates the magic of it all and I want you to know that I’m going to make it real special for our girl.” My throat starts to tighten, and I pause for a beat. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, mostly about when you were young. You didn’t believe in Santa for too long because your brothers were little assholes and had to go and ruin it for you. But for the few short years that you did believe…well, those were the best Christmases of all.”

  Frankie’s mom, Sophie, my third wife, is Jewish and she wanted Frankie to follow in her faith,
but I still made sure my boy got the same over the top Christmases that his brothers received. She would be lighting her menorah and I’d show up at her house with the tallest Balsam Fir in the lot. Nico and Enzo always came with me and I’d sit back and watch my three sons fight over which ornaments they were gonna hang on the tree. Then, when the tree was trimmed, I’d lift Frankie onto my shoulders and help him place the twinkling star at the top.

  I may not have been the hands-on father they deserved, but all three of my sons had great Christmases—a fact both Nico and Enzo reminded me of this week. But it was Sophie who actually lit the fire under my ass and forced me to realize that if Frankie were here, he would do everything in his power to pass on those traditions to his little girl. I told Sophie to polish up her menorah for our granddaughter and went home to Maria and informed her that we were having Christmas this year. She was all for it, and together we made a list of all the traditions we wanted to pass down to our grandkids. We even found some new ones to partake in, like this Elf On The Shelf thing. That little fucker wasn’t around when my boys were young, but it’s a hot commodity these days and when I leave here, I’m dropping an elf on Nico’s doorstep. Moving that bastard every night can be his job.

  “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that your brothers got the message to me and I promise you Anna is going to have a wonderful Christmas. And though we’ll be celebrating her, we’ll still be missing you.”

  Gone but never forgotten.

  Rising to my feet, I lay a hand on top of his tombstone and say a quiet prayer. Then, I bring my hand to my heart and stare at his name once again.

  “Merry Christmas, son."

  Heaven sure is lucky.

  Chapter Two

  Nico

  I think it was Blackie who once said Sundays are for eating, fucking and…well, I forget the third thing, but with those two as an opening act do you really need a third? I’m going to go with no. Anyway, the point I’m trying to make is that he spoke prematurely. If his daughters were born at the time of this conversation, he would’ve said Sundays are for pancakes and playing dress up. I know this because my Sundays have changed drastically since I moved back into my dad’s old house with Carrie and Anna.

  On top of the pancakes and playing pretty, pretty princess, I watch the movie Frozen at least five times on a Sunday. Take today for example, I’m on my third viewing and wearing a fucking tiara, but I’m not complaining.

  There is nothing I won’t do for this little girl. She stole my heart before she ever took her first breath, and she hasn’t given it back.

  So did her mom.

  It took a long time for me and Carrie to give into the love we have for one another. To let go of the guilt that was suffocating us after losing Frankie. That’s not saying there aren’t times when I still feel like I’m in the wrong, that it should’ve been me instead of him. Those are the times when I remind myself what happened was out of my control. I think about the words my dad said to me when we opened Frankie’s House, a nonprofit dedicated to helping misguided children. He told me that I paid my penance. He said we get one life, to make it count and I’ve concluded the best way I can make my life count is by loving Anna and Carrie.

  “Uncle Ni Ni, you’re not watching the movie!” My little Anna Banana accuses as she tugs on my arm. “And your princess crown is on wrong.”

  “I’m watching,” I insist as I straighten my tiara.

  Bet you never thought you’d see me with a tiara on my fucking head—yeah, neither did I. But this is Anna’s world and we’re all just guests. We play by her rules and if she wants me to dress up like a princess and look like a complete jackass, I do it. No questions asked. Keeping my eyes pinned to Olaf, I bend my head and press my lips to the top of her head.

  I’m just happy to be part of her world.

  “Hey, I have a surprise for you,” I say, giving her sides a little tickle. She giggles and I swear to Christ, my fucking heart swells. There really is no greater sound than a child’s laughter.

  Anna turns and lifts her wide eyes to mine, a big smile on her pretty little face. My niece loves surprises, just like her dad used to.

  “Tell me! Tell me!”

  “I don’t know…” I tease, watching as she narrows her eyes and sticks out her lower lip. She looks just like Carrie when she does that. It’s like God took all the best qualities of Frankie and Carrie and created this perfect little package.

  “Uncle Ni Ni! Tell me!” she demands.

  I bite back a laugh and wink at her.

  “Okay, okay, you pulled my leg. I’ll tell you, but first you’re going to have to give me ten kisses,” I say, pointing to my cheek.

  Luckily, she’s too young to have mastered the art of an eyeroll and gives into the request, pressing ten loud kisses to my cheek.

  “Now tell me,” she says.

  “When mommy gets home from the store, we’re going to put up our Christmas tree.”

  Her eyes light with excitement and a grin spreads across her face.

  “Really?” she squeals.

  I nod and she starts to jump all around the living room.

  The poor kid has been asking to put up the tree since August. I would’ve given in, but Carrie shot me down and insisted we wait until after Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving came and went but there was still no tree. Turns out she was waiting to buy a flocked tree on Black Friday. I could’ve spray painted the branches of the artificial tree we had collecting dust in the attic, but no, we needed a King of Christmas special. Naturally, the tree was on back order and didn’t arrive until yesterday. But nothing is gonna stop us from putting the tree up today. I’ve got a hazmat suit in the garage waiting for me.

  Why a hazmat suit, you ask?

  Well, after I told my old man about the whole tree debacle, he revealed that it was Maria who got in Carrie’s head about the flocked tree. Apparently, my lovely stepmother bought one last year and while it looked beautiful when all was said and done, it was a fucking bitch to put up. The fake snow went everywhere—even dad’s beard. Maria cleaned the mess it made on the floor with her vacuum but when she tried to take the Dyson attachments to dad’s beard, he almost threw her and the tree out the window.

  I don’t have a beard, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. The last thing I need is Carrie taking a vacuum to my armpits or any other body part for that matter. My luck she’ll slip the hose in my pants and the thing will suck the silver piercing right off my dick.

  Ouch.

  The doorbell rings and I leave Anna dancing and jumping in the living room to answer it. Pulling it open, my eyes cut from my brother, Enzo, to the basket he holds in his hands. I point to the thing that looks like Christmas exploded in it and lift my eyes back to his.

  “What is that?”

  He smirks and raises an eyebrow.

  “Nice tiara, princess,” he taunts and pushes the basket at me. Instead of taking it from him, I pull the tiara from my head. When tiaras become your norm you forget to check yourself in the mirror before answering the door.

  Laughing, he continues. “I don’t know what it is, but it was on the stoop, so I picked it up before I rang the bell.” He shoves the basket against my chest, forcing me to take it. “You’ve been Elfed.”

  I narrow my eyes.

  “I’ve been what?”

  He shrugs his shoulders.

  “That’s what it says on the card. Now, step aside, princess. I didn’t come here to see you. Anna! It’s your favorite uncle!"

  Favorite uncle my ass.

  Brushing past me, he enters the house, leaving me standing at the door. Dumbfounded, I continue to stare at the basket like it’s bomb about to detonate at any second. There’s a creepy looking doll—ah, I guess that’s supposed to be the elf—and all sorts of snacks. There’s also a story book, a coloring book, crayons, and Santa’s Magic Key—whatever that is.

  Wait.

  I inch closer, getting a better look at the bag of hay nestled inside the basket�
�at least that’s what I think it is until I read the label.

  “What the hell is reindeer food?” I mumble to myself.

  We don’t have any reindeer and I refuse to start feeding the deer that sometimes pop up in the backyard. They’re like stray cats, once you start feeding them, they keep coming back, then they start breeding and before you know it, your property is infested with cats. Staten Island is already overpopulated with deer without me contributing to the cause. There will be no feeding of deer of any kind. Not in this house.

  Shaking my head, I kick the door closed and make my way back to the living room where Enzo and Anna are dancing.

  How come she never asks him to dress up?

  I set the basket on the coffee table and sink onto the couch.

  “You really didn’t bring this thing here?” I ask, eyeing the elf.

  They stop dancing and Anna rushes to my side.

  “Is that for me?” she asks.

  “Um…I think so,” I reply, scratching my head. I hardly think anyone would drop this thing off for me to enjoy. Lifting my gaze back to Enzo, I ask, “What are we supposed to do with it?”

  “Well, you can start by opening it. There’s some good shit—er, I mean stuff in there.”

  It looks like a bunch of crap to me.

  “Yeah? Like what?” I challenge.

  “Like popcorn balls and oh, look it’s those chocolate balls that everyone is selling on Facebook.”

  He says as he tears the cellophane from the basket, and I quirk an eyebrow.

  “People are selling chocolate balls on social media?”

  “Yeah, you put them in a mug, pour some warm milk over it and boom, marshmallows appear.” He grabs the balls and takes Anna’s hand. “Come on, Anna Banana, let’s get chocolate wasted.”