Page 7 of Waiting Game

He nodded, turning away from me and deciding that the conversation was over.

I sighed and shook my head, slamming the door as I left.

My suitcase thumped on every step as I rolled it behind me down the steps of my tiny apartment that was a part of a rundown duplex. I didn’t care about the neighbours disproving looks across the short fence, and I bit my tongue as I passed them.

Now was not the time to pick petty fights with my nosy, elderly neighbours.

The walls of the apartment were paper thin. I knew they would have heard my recent arguments with Pete, and would eventually complain to me about that and the loud clanking of my suitcase.

But I didn’t care, I was too angry to be polite.

I opened the boot of my shitty old car and threw my luggage in, slamming it shut. I turned the key and the engine cranked slowly.

“Come on,” I said through gritted teeth.

It only just came to life, and I pulled out onto the street before it had a chance to stall. It was luckily only a short walk to the hospital where I worked, but the airport was much further away and I didn’t want to have to waste my money on a taxi.

I had been saving my money for months for this trip, not wanting my family to have any reason to bitch at me about coming back.

They were all well off, and it was how I grew up.

With the best of everything.

But I would rather drive my shitty car to my shitty apartment than have what they had - because I knew what it took to get it.

Everything that they had, was paid for with blood money.

The Santino crime family had been a part of Melbourne for generations, after my grandfather immigrated to Australia from Italy. Ever since, my bloodline had been responsible for so much crime, violence, and evil in that city.

Which was exactly why I left.

I didn’t want to be a part of that.

I had only been back to Melbourne twice since I left.

Once, for my father’s funeral, and once to check on my brother, Antoni.

I had begged him at the funeral to not take over, to end it all, but he refused.

Now, he wasn’t just Toni - he wasDon Antoni Santino.

The brother who I loved so much, was now the leader of everything I hated.

It took a long time to process, to get over, but of course I still loved him. We were best friends growing up, we were inseparable. Now, it took a lot of mental gymnastics on my end to be around him. It involved a lot of pretending, ignoring, and denying reality so I could convince myself that he was still the same guy.

Since my last visit, Antoni had also visited me once to introduce me to his girlfriend, Rome. Even then, I stayed at a hotel with them to avoid letting him know too much.

None of my family knew where I lived, where I worked, or who I hung around - and it would stay that way until they came to their senses.

The fear was probably a little unfounded, but I couldn’t bring myself to trust anyone who was involved with the business of my family. I had spent the last near decade looking over my shoulder, whispering when I had to mention my last name, and hiding where I was from.

I just couldn’t shake the worry that they would come for me.

That they would find me and drag me back there.

And here I was, going willingly.

I considered not going at all, and just sending an expensive wedding gift with my regards and apologies for not being able to attend. But I got along well with Antoni’s girlfriend, now fiancee. I genuinely liked her, and I didn’t want to offend either of them by not going.

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