Page 77 of Vicious Souls

“That would be when your dad wrote Tate out of his will.”

“Do you think there’s any correlation between the two events?” Durian asks.

“I guess we’ll find out soon,” and I look down at the letter and take a deep breath as I start to read.

* * *

“My Dearest Kingsley,

By now,if this letter is in your possession, I will be gone. I pray that my passing has not caused you any additional undue stress. Just know that I am with you always, in spirit, and will leave you never.

I trust that you adhered to my request and you are reading this in the company of Durian and Dante Accardi. And you are probably curious why I wanted them with you when you read this letter. By now, my will would have been read, and I’m sure you will have a lot of questions about why I did what I did. There are things I want to say and matters I wish to put to bed for once and for all, and that is the reason that I requested the Accardi family’s presence at the reading of this letter.

To understand what came after, you need to understand what happened in the beginning. You may know that Durian and I go way back. Right way back. From our teen years, as we moved up in the ranks and made something of ourselves. With our lust for the life of Made Men, we became larger than life itself. We were closer than brothers and thick as thieves. Until we fell for the same woman…

In all honesty, Durian found her first. But he took his damn time making his move, and so I moved in and eloped with the woman that would later become your mother. I don’t think Durian ever forgave me. If he did, he never showed it; he was good like that, always hiding his emotions. But my marriage to your mother marked the end of the road for Durian and me; we both went our separate ways, and I heard later that he had married and had two sons. Of course, I made it a point to keep up with his news; it was like acquainting myself with the movements of a brother I had lost contact with. When his wife passed, I considered reaching out to him, but too much time had passed. Every time I picked up that damn phone, something held me back and I just never had the courage to call him.

I saw Durian over the years, even met his sons on a few occasions. We were civil but distant, opting to stay out of each other’s business.

But there was occasion for me to meet one of the Accardi boys in an unusual circumstance that I’ve never discussed with anyone. Seven years ago, I stopped to greet Rollo Accardi as I was walking into the Quick-E-Mart and he was walking out. I had my foot halfway in the store before I parted to let him through and realized who it was…”

* * *

I hearthe heavy thud of Durian as he falls into a nearby chair and sighs heavily. He loosens his tie and looks at me with doe eyes, obviously affected by what is being read. As though he already knows what is coming and is bracing himself. He is affected in a way I’ve never seen him, and I guess what he’s hearing makes some sort of sense to him when it makes none to me at all.

“Do you want me to stop?” I ask.

“This is very painful for me,” Durian mutters, looking at his son. “I’m not sure that I want to know what he’s going to tell us.”

“I can stop,” I tell him, setting the letter down on a side table.

Dante shoots me a look, as though urging me to stop, a look of pain and anguish on his face. Whatever is coming, it’s bad.

66

DANTE

Ihave serious concerns for my father’s health. This looks like it is more than he can take. I’m glad to finally know exactly what split Durian and Maddog up, and I am even more surprised that the woman my father had been in love with ended up being Kingsley’s mother. I mean, what were the odds?

“Should I go?” Kingsley asks, looking from me to my father. He doesn’t reply; I think he wants to go on but he doesn’t know if he’d be able to handle what’s to come. And Kingsley, martyring herself by asking if she should leave her own home so we could be more comfortable. I urge her on, wanting this to end sooner rather than later. Whatever is in that letter has to come out now; I don’t want to be going through this again ever. Kingsley picks up the letter and looks down at it, breathes deeply, then starts reading again.

* * *

“We stoodoutside the Quick-E-Mart chatting, when all of a sudden, Rollo grabbed my arms and pushed me through the door into the store. My brain didn’t comprehend what was happening until the gunshots rang out and Rollo went sprawling to the ground, his body riddled with bullets. He died instantly and the gunmen were gone by the time I made my way back outside. I didn’t know who or why, but all I knew was that one of us was dead when it could have so easily been the two of us. I didn’t know who the bullets were meant for, but I did know that Rollo saved my life that day. It damn near destroyed me knowing that he had died and I had lived.

There was nothing I could do to bring Rollo back, but there was something I had in my possession that I knew the Accardis wanted. That’s why I gave them the waterfront. If Rollo Accardi hadn’t died that day, I would have given it to him. But he died that day, trying to save me. If that was his last selfless act while he was alive, I wanted my last act to mirror his. That one act, even knowing there was bad blood between his own father and me, didn’t deter Rollo from pushing me out of harm’s way, and it was a testament to the man that you had raised, Durian. You raised a wonderful son, as I’m sure your second son is also.”

* * *

Kingsley stopsreading and looks up at us, her hands shaking. The letter goes fluttering from her hand and lands at her feet, her eyes wet with moisture. This couldn’t be easy for her, realizing my brother had given his life in place of her father’s. And the look on my father’s face, as he sits there, bereft and motionless, as though wishing time to stand still. Like he wishes he could turn back the clock and do so many things differently.

“Go on,” I tell her, my voice maybe harsher than I meant it to be. I lift the letter and thrust it back into her hand. I can’t deny there isn’t a momentary lapse of judgment in the way I am toward her when I realize that Rollo died in place of Maddog Murray. So many things would have been different had Rollo not died seven years ago.

My life would have been different.

But then…

I wouldn’t be sitting here with Kingsley now.

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