Page 30 of The Mob: Shio Cuppacio
A five-mile trek was my normal day-to-day routine, but today I was doubling it. Don had me clear across the fucking world on a suicide mission, and my brain had been putting in overtime, coming up with a million ways this shit could go bad. Exercise and what I put into my body played a major role in how my day-to-day went. I was hoping that if I knocked out my run early, everything would go smoothly.
I’d been preaching to my cousins about finding better routines to keep their health in tip-top shape. We, as humans, consume so much bullshit. The food and energy of the world were deteriorating us, and we were failing to realize how big of an impact they both had on speeding up the rate of our deaths. That’s why, when it came to problems, I tried my best to solve them instead of letting that shit linger and boil into a pot of mess. Holding feelings and opinions hostage created nothing but quiet frustration, and I ain’t have time for that. If people had an issue, their best bet would be to solve it on their own before fucking up somebody else’s day.
As for food, I loved carbs and fried foods just as much as the next person. I just knew how much of the shit to consume. During the holidays, I had one plate and a few desserts and left it at that. I ate until I was satisfied—not stuffed—and protein wasa huge part of my diet. Above all, I drank my water and minded my fucking business unless it involved a Cuppacio.
Instead of letting my mind wander off into places that would take an additional ten miles to clear out, I focused on the empty path ahead of me. As sweat poured from my pores, I mentally recanted my personal to-do list a few more times.
“Time to check off one of these shits. Fucking Mexico City, let’s do this.”
“So, Demise Rinaldi can sendoneof his henchmen but can’t come face me himself?”
Metal clinkedagainst the ceramic plates as Ines’s family stuffed their faces. He sat at the head of the table with his wife at the far end, who had yet to wipe the snarl off her face. Three of his oldest children, all boys, sat on the left side of the table, and three of his youngest children, again all boys, sat on the right side. I was seated on the side with the younger children, but I didn’t give a fuck as long as I could see every door in the room. The younger children—all of whom were Hispanic like their parents—either had their heads in a tablet or a phone. It wasn't much different on the left side. They, too, were all occupied with their electronic devices, looking like they wanted to be anywhere but here. Ines's wife, Maura, hadn't spoken up once about her children having distractions at the dinner table. She only smiled at them when her gaze landed on any of the six, but when she cut her eyes to me, her lips instantly went upside down again. It was such a shame, too, with her being a beautiful woman. Had she known her filler shifted every time she frowned, she might have thought twice about that.
Ines Ledesma waited impatiently for me to answer. But he would be waiting until his food got cold because I had no intention of answering anything rhetorical.With the way his belly was protruding, he needed to push back from the plate any fucking way. I had a wellness and fitness plan that would have him in top shape in no time, especially since he was slim everywhere else except his midsection.
“Henchmen are errand boys now?” His Mexico City accent was so thick that his English ran all together.
My ear perked up at the screeching sound of his wife’s laughter. Instead of returning the scowl she’d been tossing me all evening, I stared straight ahead at the empty chair in front of me.The older children hadn’t given the vacant chair a second glance. The house was fully staffed with not only guards at every entrance, but also three strategically placed in the dining room, where we were attempting to have dinner. The chair wouldn’t have been left there if it were meant to be empty. I could tell with the way the staff had been scrubbing the nonexistent dust upon entry that Cruella here liked for everything to be perfect. The inside of the mansion was just as colorful as one would expect from a rich Hispanic family. The casita was beautiful, but that’s all it was. The energy was fucked up in the motherfucker, and I was about ready to get the fuck on.
“Are we expecting another guest?” I asked no one in particular.
A snort sounded from Maura Ledesma, making her husband shift his dark eyes from me to her. Had his orbs been a bullet, his wife would have been shot dead. Shifting in her chair was an indicator that she was now uncomfortable and knew she’d stepped out of line. Instead of backing down, she picked up her champagne flute, placed it to her burgundy-hued lips, and took a sip, leaving the rim stained.
For her to be so snooty, you’d think she had access to a professional makeup artist who would’ve told her the lip color choice was a bust. The shit did nothing for her complexion, making her look like she’d been left in the tanning bed two hours longer than needed. She resembled a tortilla that had been dipped in birria consomé.
The child next to me placed his iPad down and turned in his seat to face me. Keeping my posture toward the seat across from me, I turned my neck and looked down at the child who looked much like his father. In fact, all the children, young and old, looked like either Ines, Maura, or a combination of the two. There were no outliers among the bunch.
The child gazed at me curiously as if he’d just noticed me for the first time. Like the rest of his younger siblings, he was in khaki Chino pants, a white linen shirt, and loafers. The older sons looked as if they were headed to the club after this. Each of them was in black with gold chains around their necks. Ines was in a suit, and his wife complimented him in a long, flowy blue dress.
“Your skin. It’s… really dark.”
“It is,” I answered without offense.
I’ve been dark all my life, and I love every bit of it. My mother taught me the importance of both of her heritages. She was half Melanesian and half Black American, and knew of her family’s history in the Solomon Islands and in America. She and a full-blooded Italian man produced a Black-ass nigga, and I wouldn’t have that shit any other way. Ezio can have that light-skinned, mixed-boy, pretty-eye shit. I cherish being Black.
“Are you African or some type of black or something?”
The older Ledesmas doubled over in laughter as if they were the same age as the younger ones instead of grown-ass men. My eyes burning through the three of them had their asses tightening right on up and clearing their throats. Ines shiftedhis gaze to his oldest children and, seeing how their heads were now back buried in the phones, looking like they didn’t want any fucking smoke, he frowned.
“I’m not being… racist. Your surname is Italian. But you’re so dark… I’m sorry.” He picked up his iPad, his brown skin flushing red. Placing my hand on the iPad, I pressed it back into the table.
“It’s okay to ask questions. To answer yours, I am Black. My skin is dark because of the Melanesian blood flowing through my veins. I had an Italian father, but I don’t identify myself as such.”
“I… identify?”
With the way the child was constantly stumbling over his words, I could tell he struggled with comprehending English as a native Spanish speaker. The entire family was fluent in English, but that didn’t mean their English vocabulary was also adequate. They were whispering amongst themselves ever so often as to hide the fact that their English vocabulary was limited.
“Yes, identify. The fact of being who or what a person is. I’m a Black man. I identify as Black.”
The child smiled. “I understand now. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now, who is that seat for?”
The child picked up his fork and stuffed the steak inside his mouth. “My sister.”
“Shio Cuppacio. Tell me… Why should I consider doing business with Demise when he won’t even show his face? Last I checked, you’re not even officially a part of his organization. You have yet to secure a wife.”
“So, you’ve done your research…” I stated, slowly.
