Becoming the Street Boss: A Zanetti Famiglia Novel

by Faiman, Hayley

  “You saying I should take the five years?”

  He clears his throat. “I’m saying take the five years. You don’t know what a judge is going to hand you and this isn’t a bad deal. A hundred-k? That’s nothing. It’s a drop in the bucket. Five years in the long run isn’t much. I know it seems like that right now, your marriage is new, Pippa is young, but you can get out early for good behavior. I’ll make sure that’s in the agreement.”

  “This is horseshit.”

  “Yeah, but it’s the name of the game and you know that. Don’t worry about the bakery owner, it’s taken care of. Your position will be held for you without issue and Pippa will be taken care of. You know that she will be fine.”

  Nodding, I lift my handcuffed wrists to the table. “You take care of that judge that tried to tell my wife to divorce me and it’s a deal,” I whisper to him.

  Sal smirks. “Naturally.”

  Five years. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it, but it doesn’t seem like I’ll have a choice. Five long fucking years, because I know even though New York allows conjugal visits, federal prisons don’t.

  Fuck.

  Dipping my chin down to look at my hand, I curl my lip. That hand is going to be the only play I get for five goddamn years.

  PIPPA

  There’s a knock on my bedroom door. Inhaling a deep breath, I let out a sigh and force myself out of bed. I’m wearing a pair of Massimo’s sweatpants and one of his t-shirts. My uniform for the past five days.

  My hair is a matted mess, and I’m fairly certain that I smell pretty bad, but I don’t really care. Every day that passes without any contact from Massimo, I can’t help but think that this could all be over. The life that I had hoped we would have, one filled with possibly love and children. It’s all done and over.

  Yanking the door open, I lift my gaze to Renzo. His eyes widen, surprise crossing his features and I wonder how he could possibly be shocked, he’s been bringing me food every day, he knows what a fucking mess I’ve become.

  “Salvatore is here to see you, girl,” he says, his deep voice rumbling.

  Lifting my shoulders as I inhale a deep breath, I drop them along with my head, exhaling as I wonder what the fuck Salvatore has to say to me.

  I know that he talked to Gavino and Arlo when this all happened, but I have no clue what they discussed and seeing as Massimo isn’t home yet, whatever that plan is, it hasn’t worked.

  Renzo shakes his head, turning his back to me before he starts to make his way downstairs to the living room, I follow behind him, my feet shuffling with each step that I take.

  I’m depressed as hell and I know that I need to take care of myself, but I really just want to wallow until the next thing is thrown at me.

  “Pippa,” a voice murmurs.

  Keeping my head down, I make my way over to the corner of the sofa and sink down, pulling my knees up before I wrap my arms around them. Only then do I lift my face and look at Salvatore. I wish that I hadn’t looked. A flash of pity crosses his face and I hate it.

  “You’re obviously not doing well,” he rasps.

  “I would do better if I knew what was happening,” I lie.

  He smiles softly, shaking his head a couple of times. “Somehow I doubt that. No newlywed would be okay with her husband being arrested and gone for a week, let alone, a woman in your position.”

  “In my position?”

  Salvatore smiles brightly. “You know who you are, Pippa. You know you’re the wife of a Made Man, it’s no secret.”

  “What happens now?” I ask, my voice low and meek.

  Salvatore nods his head once. “He’s made a deal. On my urging, and with protest,” he announces.

  My head flies up and my lips part in shock. “He did?”

  “He did. Just to say, he’s not happy about his deal, but it was what he needed to do. In the long run, it’s what was needed.”

  Licking my lips, I open my mouth, but Renzo speaks first. “What’s the deal? How much time’s he getting?”

  Time?

  Time.

  Fuck.

  The look in Salvatore’s eyes tells me that Massimo is indeed getting time. And judging by the look on his face, I’m not going to like the length of time Massimo will be away from me.

  “Five years,” he rasps.

  My heart stops beating. My lungs freeze. I stare, slack-jawed at him, expecting him to laugh and say he’s kidding. He isn’t laughing. He also doesn’t seem like the kind of man who laughs and jokes, in general, anyway.

  “Five years?” I finally wheeze.

  He nods, but Renzo doesn’t say anything. My eyes search Salvatore’s and I just stare blankly before I decide to ask what’s been on my mind since Massimo was arrested.

  “What happens to me?”

  “You’re the wife of a Street Boss. You live here in his home, you’ll have access to whatever funds you need. The household bills will all be taken care of by Gavino. He’ll have money available for you to access. You live your life as if he’s still right here next to you. The wife of a Made Man in good standing? She never goes without. Not ever.”

  “Except she goes without him,” I mumble. Salvatore clears his throat, and I watch as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “What?” I ask.

  His eyes lift and find mine. “I know it’s probably embarrassing, but I have to tell you. This five-year stint? It does not include conjugal visits. New York does permit them, but the federal prison system does not.”

  My eyes widen and I feel my face heat at his words. Renzo grunts, but I can’t look over at him. Shaking my head, I pinch my eyes closed. I don’t want to think about that, and I really don’t want to think about not being touched for five years. It’s all too much.

  “What happens now?” I ask, opening my eyes.

  Salvatore lifts his lips up in a small smile. “Next, he’s arraigned and officially sentenced. Then, we wait for five years, maybe less if he is released early for good behavior. But five full years if he doesn’t want probation.”

  With a sigh, I stand to my feet. I’m suddenly exhausted. Slowly, I walk toward the stairs, stopping after I’ve taken my first step. Looking behind me over my shoulder, I give him a small smile.

  “You’ll let me know when the arraignment is, won’t you? I think I’d like to go.”

  Salvatore dips his chin in a jerk but doesn’t say anything else. I’m glad. I don’t want to hear anything else. I take myself upstairs, slip into bed, and I sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  MASSIMO

  Court.

  It’s the last thing I want to do, but everything has to be completely official. Walking into the courtroom, I’m not surprised when my gaze scans the seating and I see my wife.

  Her eyes are sunken in with purple circles beneath them. Her hair is dull and lifeless, her lips turned down in a frown. She looks fucking haunted.

  I did this to her. I made her look this way. This is all my fucking fault and there’s nothing I can do about it. Setting her free isn’t an option. Not only is she mine, it would be unsafe for her out there.

  Roman hasn’t been dealt with, in fact, the last I heard he’s fucking disappeared, which means the cops are probably hiding him—for now. Ignoring the federal prosecutor and even Salvatore, I make my way toward where Pippa is sitting.

  She stands, her eyes focused on me, and walks toward the wooden banister that separates us.

  As soon as she’s close enough to touch, I reach out and extend my index finger, sliding it beneath her eyes, touching the bruised skin there.

  “You need to sleep, dolcezza,” I rasp.

  She lets out a sigh, tilting her head to the side as her lips pout slightly. “All I do is sleep, Massimo,” she whispers.

  Her eyes slowly open as I drop my hand from her face. “You haven’t been taking care of yourself, promise me that you will.”

  “Five years,” she breathes.

  “I know.”

  Pippa shakes her
head, her eyes filling with tears. “What do I do?” she asks with a whimper.

  “You’ll be okay,” I say with a nod.

  Though, I’m not sure if my nod and words are for myself or for her. Probably more for me than for her at this point. I need her to be okay, I need to believe that she will be okay. She needs to be okay.

  “Will I? What happens?” she asks, her voice sounding as unsure as I feel on the inside.

  “Nothing, dolcezza. We get through this, then I come home and shit goes right back to where it was before this whole nightmare started.”

  The bailiff calls out for everyone to stand and I drop my hands from her, turning around to face my fate.

  Dropping my head, I listen to the judge drone on and on about being responsible and then he scolds me like a fucking child. I can’t wait until I get the confirmation that this fucker is dead.

  Finally, after at least thirty minutes of his bullshit, he hands me my sentence. Five years and one hundred thousand dollars, just like we had agreed upon. The bailiff makes his way toward me, a shit-eating grin on his face, all too happy to take a Zanetti famiglia man to prison.

  “Massimo,” Pippa’s sweet voice calls out.

  Looking back over my shoulder, my eyes find hers and even though tears are streaming down her cheeks, she’s strong. Her back is straight, her shoulders square and her gaze unwavering.

  “Dolcezza.”

  She shakes her head once, her gaze focused on mine and nowhere else. “I’ll be okay,” she whispers.

  My lips twitch. “I know you will. See you soon?”

  She lifts her chin. “As soon as possible,” she breathes.

  Turning around, I allow the bailiff to take me away. I don’t look back. It shows weakness, and I don’t need anyone to think I’m fucking weak. My wife is crying, but she’s going to be just fine. I have more protection in place for her than she could ever need.

  * * *

  ONE MONTH LATER

  Gavino makes his way toward my table. Standing, I extend my hand to shake his. He dips his chin and we both sit down across from one another.

  “How are you doin’ in here?” he asks, his eyes roaming over my face.

  “Aside from the shit food, the shit company, and the other organizations surrounding me? I’m doing just fucking dandy,” I snap.

  He dips his chin. “Yeah, I figured as much. Wanted to let you know that Roman’s place is taken care of.”

  “Good. Pippa?” I ask, getting to the most important thing.

  Gavino smirks. “You haven’t called her?”

  Jerking my chin, I lift my hand, running my fingers through my hair. “I haven’t. The phone, fuck, I’m not good over the phone.”

  “I know it’s not the same, but when Luciana was away, all we had was the phone for months. Hearing her voice, gauging her moods, staying present for her, she needs that.”

  “Does she? Married for less than a week before I left, Vino,” I point out.

  He smiles, shaking his head. “She needs you, Massimo. Don’t be an asshole.”

  I grunt. Gavino leaves a few minutes later after giving me the skinny on the happenings of the famiglia. Jerking my chin, I stand, giving him a shake and a hug. Gavino leaves and I’m taken away by an officer.

  Making my way back to my cell, I sit down on the small cot that is mine for the next five years. Closing my eyes, I lay back on my bed. I’m fucked. There is no way in hell I’m going to be able to live here for five years while Pippa is at home.

  There is only one way to deal with this. She’ll be safe, she’ll have protection, but she won’t have to wait for me. She won’t have to deal with me. Deciding that my next move is to call Salvatore, I close my eyes and try to sleep.

  PIPPA

  Lifting my hand to my face, my thumb goes directly into my mouth and I chew on my nail. He’s supposed to call. Gavino and Salvatore both said that he would, that he could. Renzo clears his throat.

  My head snaps to look over at him. He shakes his head, chuckling at my obvious nervousness.

  “He hasn’t put me on the approved visitation list. He doesn’t want to see me. He said he’d call,” I hiss.

  Renzo stands before he makes his way over to me. He stops in front of me, forcing me to tip my head back to look up at him. My breath hitches when he lifts his hand, his palm cupping my cheek.

  “Massimo will call. He said he would. He will.”

  As if right on cue, the phone rings. I run over, answering it immediately. The robo-voice asks if I’ll accept the call from the prison. Eagerly, I do. Pinching my eyes closed, I wait to hear his voice, more excited than I probably should be.

  “Dolcezza,” he rasps.

  “Massimo,” I breathe.

  “You’re good?”

  “Yeah.”

  There’s a moment of silence. Then he continues. “Salvatore will be bringing some paperwork over today. Your account information and other stuff.”

  “Okay, when can I see you?”

  He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t answer me immediately. Then he lets out a sigh. “Never, Pippa.”

  “What?”

  My chest squeezes. My breath completely escapes and I see spots as my knees begin to give out. Renzo’s hands wrap around my waist, bracing me so that I don’t fall on my face.

  “Massimo,” I shout.

  “Pippa, it’s for the best. You’re only twenty. It’s not fair and I won’t make you stay, not like this. Maybe if we’d been together longer, maybe if you were pregnant…”

  His voice trails off and I want nothing more than to scream at him, but my voice is gone, it’s stolen from me. He’s stolen it from me. There’s no other way to describe what’s happening to me, except the man that I was falling in love with has ruined me in just one word. Never.

  “You’re an asshole. You’re a selfish fucking asshole,” I scream into the phone right before Renzo slips it from my hand.

  I hear his voice mumbling, but I don’t know what he’s saying. I can’t hear him. I don’t understand him. All I can hear is roaring noise in my ear. My knees give out, except this time Renzo doesn’t catch me, he’s too busy talking on the phone to my asshole husband.

  Pinching my eyes closed, my palms on the cold tile on the kitchen floor, the tears flow. I haven’t cried since that day in court where he was sentenced. I can’t stop crying now, not even if I wanted to.

  It all pours out of me, every sleepless night, every worry, every single fear that I’ve had since Aunt Irene made me leave.

  Strong arms wrap around me, lifting me from the floor. I tremble in those arms, turning my face to look up at him. It’s Renzo, he’s looking ahead, instead of at me. Lifting one of my arms, I cup his bearded cheek.

  “Why?” I whimper.

  “Why?”

  “Why doesn’t he want me anymore? I’ll wait for him, I’d always wait for him,” I whisper.

  Renzo hums as he sits on the sofa and arranges me on his lap. Pulling my head back, I look up into his eyes, my hand still cupping his soft beard.

  “It’s soft,” I whisper.

  He smiles and I can see his white teeth, but that smile doesn’t reach his eyes, just like Massimo’s doesn’t.

  “I use conditioner, girl,” he murmurs. My lips curve up into a small smile as my eyes search his. “He’ll realize he’s making a mistake. He’ll change his mind. He’s just scared. Men like us, we don’t do scared.”

  Shaking my head, I press my lips together, tasting my salty tears. I open my mouth to speak, but Renzo beats me to it.

  “Girl, he’ll come around. Just be that steadfast woman for him. Be the wife that you are supposed to be.”

  Continuing to shake my head, my eyes meet his. “My only other option is to be one of Arlo’s girls,” I whisper. “Massimo saved me from that life, he took me for himself to keep me and now he’s throwing me away. Why would he do that?”

  Renzo wraps one of his hands around the back of my head and shoves my face in his neck. I c
ry. He doesn’t say a single thing to me. Not a word. He just lets me cry. And I do. The tears, the trembling, none of it stops and he doesn’t try to make it either. He just lets me be.

  Without a word, he carries me upstairs and tucks me into bed. What feels like minutes later, as I’m staring at the window, alone in my bed, I hear the doorbell ring. Inhaling a deep breath, I know who is on the other side of that door.

  Salvatore.

  Throwing the comforter back, I climb out of the bed. I need to face him myself, I need to hear the words. I need to know exactly what Massimo wants from me. What he’s denying me. Exactly what kind of fucking asshole he is.

  “Pippa, go back to bed,” Renzo murmurs as soon as I appear.

  Salvatore turns around from his place in the chair. My eyes find his, and I shake my head once. “No, I need to know exactly what Massimo’s wishes are,” I say, my voice firm, but my entire body trembling.

  Salvatore jerks his chin and I nod my head once as I walk over to the other chair. I can’t sit on the sofa next to Renzo, I need to be alone. Lifting my legs, I wrap my arms around my shins and rest my chin against my bent knees.

  “Tell me,” I softly demand.

  Salvatore nods his head. “You have access to an account that he had me set up for you. All you need to do is sign the signature card, which I have with me. There will be fifteen thousand dollars deposited each month. That’s yours to do with as you see fit. Gavino and the famiglia will be taking care of the rest of the expenses. The car is paid for and yours to use as you see fit. The house is paid off. Gavino will be taking over the household bills. Massimo has also added a once a year, one-hundred-thousand-dollar deposit for you.”

  “It’s too much,” I say, interrupting him.

  Salvatore shakes his head. “He has it, take it, Pippa. You’re his wife, you are owed fifty percent of his assets, and this isn’t even close to that,” he explains.

  Pressing my lips together, I look down, inhaling a deep breath. Lifting my eyes back to meet Salvatore’s I ask him the question that I definitely do not want an answer to, but I need it.