Page 27 of Straightened Out

“You are what the underworld gets when all the greats are gone. By this time on Monday, you will be amademan.”

I’ve longed to hear those word, to be given a chance to prove myself to the men who spit on my name. This is my time. My fucking chance to be more than my old man ever was. I should still be rejoicing, but it’s hard to celebrate anything with a delivery like that. Dread churns in my gut as I comb my fingers through my hair and wait for his next blow.

“Do I think you deserve the honor? No,” he continues, his tone stern and to the point. “And if I don’t think you do, you best believe every man from here to Chicago won’t either, but as long as I’m alive, they’ll deal with it.”

As long as he’s alive—he’s got one foot in the grave and he’s basically just told me I’m a dead man and all because he’s making me a made man.

“And when you’re not? You’ve got stage four cancer. How much time does that give me before I wind up like my old man?”

Death doesn’t fucking scare me, it’s what comes afterward that has me doubting I want any of this anymore. My father might’ve been nothing but a disgrace, but he had people who mourned him. A wife who buried him. A daughter who cried at his grave and a son who hated him for burdening him with his sins—I don’t even have that.

“That depends on you,” he says evenly.

I tug at the ends of my hair and my eyes lock with his.

You can’t draw blood from a stone.

What more do I have to give?

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you to be the man your father never was.” He leans forward. “I want the world to know Rocco Spinelli as they knew Victor Pastore. I want them to fear you first and love you last.” He pauses. “Do you see where this is going, yet?”

No, my head is spinning. Usually when a guy gets made there is a party in his honor, I’m getting a funeral instead.

“It starts with inducting you into the family, but it ends with this.” He holds up his hand and points to the diamond crest ring on his pinky finger. Yesterday he was touching his wedding band, tonight he touches the ring that men bow to. It makes you wonder which holds more power.

“You can’t be serious,” I mutter, as it all starts to click. I wanted to be made… straightened out. I wanted my own crew and to earn a piece of the pie. I didn’t want the whole fucking kingdom. “What about Anthony? What about Jimmy fucking Gold? Why isn’t he here? He’s the underboss.”

“I’m leaving Anthony in charge of the only thing that matters.”

“But he—” He’s the only one fucking capable.

“He’s out, Rocco,” Uncle Vic grinds out. “No matter what happens. If I drop dead tomorrow, he is out. Do you understand me? This world does not touch that man.”

I don’t know who is more unhinged, him or I.

He turns to Joaquin.

“Joaquin.”

I follow my uncle’s gaze and stare at the man who has been at my side through thick and thin. He can’t be made and I can’t do this shit without him. I’ll be killed before Uncle Vic draws his last breath.

“Nothing touches Anthony, I got it,” Joaquin assures him.

That seems to please him, and he turns his attention back to me.

“I told you a man fights for what is important until he draws his last breath, well I got a couple of months and my fight begins with me turning myself in to the authorities.”

Okay, he’s officially gone off the deep end.

The cancer is eating away at his common sense—fuck his lungs.

“This is crazy,” I hiss.

“This is what you do when your daughter shoots a man and kills him.” What the fuck? I turn to Joaquin, expecting him to kick me under the table or elbow me—any fucking sign that tells me I have a clue as to what he’s talking about. But while I’ve been perfecting fucking anything that walks and desecrating my liver, he’s perfected his poker face and remains completely impassive.

“Now, pull yourself together, boy, and pay attention. Once I’m taken in, you’re going to need to relocate to New York permanently. My crew will keep things moving on the streets and I’ll be running things from inside for as long as I can, that gives us time to prepare you. You will shadow Artie Donofrio and visit me twice a week in jail, that’s where you’ll get your education.”

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