I get it. I could have said, ‘Oh, May, your friend whose mom, the senator of Massachusetts, was knee-deep in running a human trafficking ring, along with trialing a behavior-control drug to use on the victims?ThatMay?’
The sins of the parents shouldn’t reflect on the child, though—I’ve lived that my whole life. I empathize with May and what she must be going through. It isn’t just that her mom was wrapped up in criminal things; she was wrapped up andledcriminal and heinous things. May would likely be trying to understand how her mother could do what she did. She'd likely be thinking that if she shares blood with someone who could do something so horrifying and horrendous—was it nature or nurture? Both?
I share blood with that person… Could I be just like them?
Those thoughts had plagued my conscience about my father more often than I cared to admit.
“Is the senator out of jail?” I ask.
“No, it doesn’t look like her power and connections are going to get her out of this one.” Relief is evident in Antonio’s voice, which confuses me more about how this loops back to Miguel and his stress at work. I say as much to Antonio, and he sighs. “Firefly, I don’t want to get into this.”
“It’s concerning you,” I nudge him. “Come on, talk to me. I’m across the country; it’s not like this will taint my world.”
He sighs again. “The ring that the senator was involved in was dismantled, but that doesn’t mean the people involved have all been brought to justice and are happy about what has happened. There are rumors—”
I frown. “What rumors? From where?”
“In Miguel’s line of work… He has some connections with ears to the ground in the lesser talked about layers of the world.”
AKA the criminal underworld. I get it, even if I truly didn’t. I’m not part of that life, but I view the world differently than most nineteen-year-olds do because of who my father is.
“Rumors about what?” I prod.
“That the Mancini family in Boston used that human trafficking ring for their flesh peddling.”
Italian mafia, I hiss silently. “But that’s Boston; you and Miguel are in New York.”
“Boston ports are being closely scrutinized. And since the supply chain,” I visualize Antonio making air quotes, “that Mancini relied on is gone, they’ll be looking for other sources.”
“Are missing persons reports up?”
Frick, this is New York we’re talking about. People go missing or are found dead all the time, even without this heinous trafficking ring.
“Miguel is doing whatever he can to ensure no one is grabbed from the club. Places like that are ripe for victim-picking.”
People out having a good time, alcohol, drugs… with not a care in the world, not being as aware as they should be…
How the heck would Miguel do that? And his club is just one club in New York.
“That’s like a boat the size of the Titanic popping a leak every inch. How the hell could you stop and fix them all?”
Short answer: you can’t. You’re screwed, and that boat is going down.
“We can only do our part, firefly.” I can hear the exhaustion in his voice.
“Do you want me to come for a visit?”
“This is the last place I want you,pequeña y dulce niña.”
I don’t tell him that there is crime and people who abuse others everywhere. Instead, I suggest, “Maybe you and Miguel could come here for a visit?”
“I’d like that. I’ll see what I can do about getting Miguel to take some time away.”
I know they want to come, but I wouldn’t hold my breath. With the amount of work Antonio did—plus he is mentoring two eighteen-year-old musicians and ensuring they don’t get taken advantage of by the leeches in the industry—and with what it sounded like Miguel was dealing with, I knew it would be hard to get away. I don’t hold that against Antonio or Miguel; I totally got it.
“Take care of yourself,Tio.”
“I will. You, too. And don’t be a brat again and ignore my texts and calls. OrAbuela’s. You know how she worries.”