Page 18 of The Mob: Shio Cuppacio
Nevertheless, I had a lot of respect for Don, even though on most days I wanted to put him in a pine box. He’d single-handedly dismantled not only his own mob by killing his father, but our mob as well by killing ours. He saved my mama and ’nem. For that, I gave his ass more grace than normal. Because make no mistake, with or without him, I was getting to the paper.
“You know, you Cuppacios the only niggas on the planet that talk slick and still got your life. I wonder why that is…” He gave me a teasing smirk.
“Because us Cuppacio niggas will go toe to toe with you, win or draw, because it fasho ain’t no losing. Now, again… what can I do for you?”
Don broke out in a full-on grin, making his ass look just as crazy as Matteo. “I want to kill y’all so damn bad, but I’m man enough to admit that I just might shed a half a tear behind you niggas. I don’t know why, but I’ve grown fond of you hard-headed, disrespectful muthafuckas.”
We engaged in a stare off before Don turned to face my father’s tomb and continued, “Of all the Cuppacios… I think I fuck with you the hardest. You know why?”
“I still don’t know why you here, so let’s answer that question before I answer any of yours.”
Don snapped his head at me while keeping his body facing forward. “Hold the fuck up, muthafucka! You gone let me get to it, all right? Impatient as fuck, damn!” He faced forward again. “Anyway, as I was saying… I fuck with you the hardest because,you unpredictable. Everything those other niggas did, I was hip to it before it occurred.”
My brow rose. “So you knew Ezio was going to nearly kill your sister by allowing her to overdose?”
“Nigga, no! That shit threw me for a fucking loop. I’m still surprised I let that muthafucka breathe after that bullshit. I’ve killed niggas for way less.”
I shrugged because, had my nonexistent sister overdosed because of a nigga, it would’ve been lights out for that nigga. Fuck rules. However, I had no response for Don, so I waited. He would get to the real reason for coming all the way to Chicago to find me eventually. That nigga called me impatient, but he was really talking about his fucking self. Had I shown up to the Dungeon wanting to rap, he would’ve given me all of sixty seconds to speak my piece.
“Them other niggas act like they don’t like me, but they really do. I may even step out on a limb and say, they love me. But, you? You’d kill me without blinking. You’re probably the only nigga that got the balls to do it. My own uncle couldn’t even kill me after knowing I’d blown his brother’s brains out. But, you? You’d do it swifter than these winds.” He held his hand up, spreading his fingers, letting the wind course through.
My trigger finger twitched, forcing me to resist the urge to pull the gun from my waist and show Don just how factual he was. But I still had no words for him. I would neither confirm nor deny the allegations.
“I’m here because… I need a favor from you.”
Chuckling, I shook my head. “Get the fuck outta here. You pop up in Chicago because you need me? You the Don—all you had to do was summon me, and I would have had no choice but to come. You never had a problem with forcing us to do some shit we wouldn’t if a muthafucka paid us too. So, cut the shit. The Don don’t do favors.”
He’d just cancel a meeting I requested over some petty stuff, and now he’s here like he’s Timmy and I’m one of the Fairy OddParents granting wishes and shit.
“You right. The Don doesn't do favors. ButDemiseRinaldi does.”
If Don was here asking me to handle some shit for him, it had to have been something I one thousand percent wouldn’t want to do. My plate was too full already. I couldn’t add shit else to it except my current plans to finalize this marriage shit. Outside of the tasks being a duty, I was a lonely fucking king. I had my brother, my cousins, my family—a full court, but the throne was empty. I’d put off filling her seat long enough. It was time for me to add that missing element in my life. That was all I was able to make room for: crowning my queen.
My mind screamed at me to tell his ass, “No.”
But, I found myself asking, “What you need, Don?” with as much enthusiasm as a tired toddler.
“I need you down in CDMX.”
I couldn’t travel until at least another six weeks, especially out of the country. I still asked “When?”
Don cocked his head. “Do you know what CDMX is?”
Peering at him, I grunted. That was the only response to that question he was getting.
“And you doubt that I fuck with you the toughest. You hadn’t even asked what I needed you down there for—just when. Hmmph.” Don taunted.
“Don—”
“Aite, aite! Ole serious-ass nigga. First, I’ll tell you what it’s for. I need you to go to a dinner party.”
Again. I gave nothing.
“Ines Ledesma,” he said as if the name wasn’t alarming.
I waited for Don’s playful grin, but it hadn’t made its usual appearance. No man put fear in my heart, but there were someI had to put extra planning and thought into going against, and Ines Ledesma was one.
At one point, he was something like a legend. I’d heard tales of the Ledesma Family growing up, and like the Cuppacio men that came before me, nothing was good. There were claims floating around about the Cuppacio, and while some of it was false, most of it was true, so I knew most of what I heard about the Ledesma Cartel held some truths as well. Still, I was a man who believed none of what I heard and only a fraction of what I saw. If I were the type to believe what I heard, then I would say that the Ledesmas made the Cuppacio look like play toys.
