Page 4 of Family Secrets

With Gino’s headache increasing and patience waning, he’d reached his limit of brotherly bonding. “And you could tell me the real reason why the fuck you’re here instead of balls-deep in whichever one of the girls you went home with last night.”

“Jealous?” Sully challenged, hoping to get a rise out of his older brother.

Gino had too much on his mind to play games with Sully, he needed a hot shower and several hours of uninterrupted sleep before having a sit down with his father.

“If you really must know, Sully. I’ve just spent the last few days dealing with shit I don’t want to talk about, sitting in a room with motherfuckers I don’t particularly care for. The only fucking thing about you I’m jealous of is you’re wearing a clean suit.”

Two things were a constant when it came to Giovani Vitale; one, there were few people in his world who were allowed to call him by his full name and continue to draw a breath. Two, he never wore the same suit twice. His closet was full of designer labels his personal shopper placed there once a month. To Gino, clean meant never worn, something his mother started, and he never grew out of.

Sully settled back into the leather seat using the guise of scanning the face of his cellphone to mask his pondering of what Gino said. His understanding of Gino’s trip to Sicily was to visit his mother and sister, something he did on a regular basis. Was the Family branching out? Would Gino move back to Sicily, leaving the running of New Jersey’s operations to him? Excitement bubbled in his chest. He’d worked hard to prove his value to the Family, and if what he suspected was true, this changed everything.

* * *

Gino’s eyesfelt as if they had grains of sand stuck behind the lids, a penance he assumed for overindulgence the past few days. He’d made the mistake of laying down after his shower, his body’s need for rest overriding his need to check on a few of his investments. Now he would need to hurry if he wanted to make his meeting with a potential new venture on time. Donning a new suit, Gino jumped behind the wheel of his car, pushing the gas to the floor as he whipped into traffic. The blaring horns and raised middle fingers caused him to smile and a sense of being welcomed home. Gino was born in Sicily, remaining there with his mother and younger sister until his father called him to the States to begin molding him to take over the Family. He grew to love the hardened streets his father and uncle introduced him to, craving the adrenaline rush he received when things became heated.

Gino pulled into the parking lot of the gym he owned. The business, a gift from his uncle Johnny before he died. The man responsible for introducing him to boxing, and subsequent passion for the sport. Exiting his car, Gino took a look at his phone, the fucking thing was vibrating and irritating the shit out of him. His frustration increased as his phone was full of messages, photos of Antonia getting ready for her party with her douche friends. He’d half a mind to block her number, but then he would have to listen to his father bitch about being available to the women in the family. Gino argued with his father on countless occasions over the difference between his sister, Georgianna, a beautiful woman who knew her place and didn’t cause issues, and the illegitimate bitch, Antonia, who couldn’t keep her mouth shut requiring legal intervention when she landed in jail.

Pocketing his phone, a smile curled the side of his lips at the war his father would wage when he failed to attend the ungrateful brat’s birthday party. He’d gladly go toe-to-toe with the dirty old bastard, payback for all the shit he’d put his mother through.

Heavy metal music blared from the speakers overhead as Gino walked through the door, several heads nod to him in respect as he made his way to the back of the room where the man he’d come to see stood in front of the speed bag, his fists a white blur as he keeps a perfect rhythm.

“Hey, Gino,” a female voice purred to his left, a well-manicured hand landing in the center of his pressed shirt. Red hair framed the face of Holly, one of the girls who made themselves available to his men, her blue eyes, partially hidden behind thick eyelashes. Gazing up at him, she ran her index finger up the buttons of his shirt, leaning her ample tits against his chest. Any other time he would have taken her over to one of the machines, bent her over and fucked the shit out of her. He’d done it before, more than a few times, and he would now if he didn’t have more pressing matters to attend.

“Not now,” Gino barked, pushing her hands off him as he stepped to the side. He ignored her calling his name in protest, the annoying voice she used intensifying the headache he’d failed to sleep off. When she continued, Gino looked to one of the men lifting weights, a snap of his head silently conveying the order to get rid of her. Girls like Holly were plentiful, those who were chosen knew what was expected of them and accepted it in exchange for the benefits they received. Clearly Holly had outgrown her usefulness.

Nearing the back of the room, Gino stood several feet from the young boxer who was turning heads all over New York, Kane Cavallo. The guy possessed speed and skill, with one hell of an uppercut, and was currently undefeated. He came from a family bathing in money, which made Gino have to dig deep to come up with an offer he couldn’t refuse.

“Hey, Kane,” A man dressed in track pants and a warmup jacket shouted, the lettering on his back read KING, as in Brody King, Cavallo’s trainer, and the “in” Gino managed to find. King had skeletons in his closet, ones in the wrong hands could ruin him. Gino offered to guard said skeletons for him…at a price.

Gino remained stoic as Brody unwrapped the tape from Kane’s hands, speaking to him in a hushed voice. Kane nodded repeatedly but kept his eyes trained on the floor, sweat dripping down his face and onto his gray t-shirt. With a pat on Kane’s shoulder, his eyes flash to Gino.

“Kane, this is Gino Vitale. Gino, Kane Cavallo.”

Kane reached his hand out to Gino but didn’t say anything as they shook hands, something Gino appreciated.

“Saw you fight in Queens last month, knocked the motherfucker out in the first round. A little flashy don’t you think?”

A smirk curled up the side of Kane’s face, his hands hooking on his hips. “Isn’t that the point of boxing, knock the other guy out first?”

“Not if you want a heavyweight belt tossed over your shoulder.” Gino let his retort hang in the air, giving the man who was a few months younger than him a minute to think about it. Kane wasn’t a stupid man; his Ivy League education and scholastic achievements were living proof.

“Tell me, Kane. Why do you have the same heavy metal song playing every time you make your way to the ring? And the lights dancing to the music as you make your way down the aisle, are they to illuminate your path? Everything about boxing, from the trunks your designer chooses, to the Ring Girls who parade around the mat between rounds, are there for entertainment. Spectators are there not just to see you, but to enjoy themselves. Knocking your opponent out in the first ten seconds may give you a win, but it won’t make you a champion. Promoters need a product, not a liability, and it's your job to give them what they want.”

Gino knew from the disappearing smirk and shift of stature, he’d made his point, now to bring it home. Where his father taught him the fine art of seducing women, his Uncle Saul taught him everything about making deals. “You have the skill, and based on your family name, you have the means. What you don’t have is a promoter. Someone with the right connections to get you into the type of venue you need to start winning your way to the top.”

Three hours later, Gino stood with his back to the wall, a signed contract in his jacket pocket and his newest venture punching the shit out of a guy he didn’t care enough about to recall his name. He ignored his vibrating phone, confident it was either his father or Antonia, neither having anything to say he wanted to hear. Instead, he perused the crowd, taking in the electricity in the air, men standing on their feet, shouting instructions that would never be heard. He watched as Kane delivered a series of punches, driving his opponent further to the breaking point before the bell rang signifying the end of round three.

“What did I miss?”

Gino swung his head to the left to find Sully standing beside him, his brown eyes glued to the busty redhead with the number four over her head.

“Why are you here?” Gino returned his attention to the ring. His question redundant, his brother’s attendance to one of these is as rare as a virgin birth.

“Couldn’t leave my brother hanging.”

Gino rolled his eyes internally, Sully’s need to be here had zero to do with any bonding and everything to do with his primary job of being their father's lap dog. Every day was a competition, a new way for Sully to show their father he was just as good as his older brother. Gino’s suspicions were confirmed when Sully pulled out his cell, typing like a fucking teen as Kane sprang from his corner sending the poor sap to the mat with his signature uppercut, ending the match and remaining undefeated.

Gino pushed off the wall, filtering his way through the thick crowd to where Brody and Kane made their way back to the dressing room. He’d arranged a celebration for his champion, a little something to take the edge off the copious amounts of testosterone pulsing through Kane’s system. A smile formed on Gino’s face as he pushed open the metal door finding the two Ring Girls, naked as the day there were born, the brunette on her knees before the redhead, her tongue buried in her snatch.

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