Page 30 of The Sting of Love
“Donny, look at you. Buona sera, ragazzo mio.” He has a habit of mixing English and Italian, and he still calls me his boy.
“Buonasera, Papa.”
“Come inside. Let’s go out back and smoke some Cubans,” he suggests.
I need one of those desperately.
We settle in the garden around the wicker patio chairs while one of his maids brings out his humidor. As long as I can remember, Pa has always smoked the same brand cigar, and he always enjoys a whiskey with it, so when the maid brings us a bottle, it doesn’t surprise me.
“How are things?” he asks.
“They are okay,” I answer.
He frowns and straightens up. “Just okay, my boy? You know what you control, right?”
I chuckle. “Yes, Pa. I know. I still have to earn it though.”
He flicks his wrist, waving me off. “Oh, please, you have this in the bag, and I’m proud of you. This is going to be very good for the Caporetti family.”
“Yeah, I hear you.” I know what it all means for all of us. Truth be told, there’s a part of me that wants to do it to make him proud. No matter what I’ve done with my life I know he’s always been proud and supported me, but I know he was disappointed when I headed out to Chicago. I know deep down he wanted me to do more here. If I’d stayed I would have been Pablo’s assistant, not Mario. He just happened to be the next best option.
“It will be good for you my boy. Some recognition for your hard work. You have so much to give with your education and experience. You couldn’t be more perfect for the role.”
“Thank you father,” I answer.
Gratitude fills me. I left for the States when I was eighteen. I went to Northwestern University and got my business and computer programming degree. Because my family had always been a part of the business going back generations, I was well taken care of when I got to Chicago. My expertise came in handy over the years and the chance to be somebody notable has come back to me full circle.
“You know I will only tell you the truth. Armand Caporetti may be many things, but I never lie.” He gives me a firm nod. “Tell me why things are justokay.”
I draw in a breath and tell him what’s happening. This is my father, so I don’t need to keep things secret when it comes to business. He won’t say shit to anybody even if they held a gun to his head. He was the one who taught me everything I know and got me to this point.
“That does not sound good, Donatello,” he says and shakes his head. “There will be spies, rest assured. If a man like Mario can leave and people follow him, that is never good. And they wouldn’t have all just left. They’ll keep a few behind to keep watch, so watch your back, my son.”
“I will. We’re working on stuff, and I hope to find the fucker before he screws with anything else.”
“Yes, that is all you can hope for. It’s a shame when a man goes rogue like that. He had no need to, but then we don’t know what money he was being offered.”
“I’m guessing it was a lot.” Mario looked comfortable.
“Money is power. If he’s associated with the triad and the cartel, they would have been paying him more than we pay him. You will need to be careful. Although… I have no doubt you can handle yourself.” He gives me a smile.
“Thanks. I appreciate your faith in me. You know I will represent our family well.” I’m well aware that this is the kind of job he would have been going for had the opportunity arisen in his younger days. There are a lot of families in the alliance across Italy, and in Sicily in particular. My father is one of those notable men who would have been trusted to carry on business here. Next best to Pablo with his expertise in accounting.
“I know, that’s why I’m proud. Juliana and Angela will be here next week visiting. It would be nice to have dinner as a family.” His eyes sparkle with the idea.
“I’ll be here. Just say when.” I haven’t seen my sisters and their families since my last visit so that will be good.
“Good. I guess I should ask the looming question that’s been on my mind.”
“What’s that, Pa?” I’m not exactly sure what he’s going to ask me. We talk regularly and have a very open relationship, so if there’s anything looming on his mind, it’s news to me.
“How are you feeling about coming back to live here?”
I nod. “It’s good. I think I can handle it. It’ll be a change, but a good change.”
The question is one that links with unspoken pain. The same pain we share from losing my mother. The memory of her death never left me. Pa always instilled strength in me. I was twelve when she died but I was old enough to hold my own, just not amongst a bunch of men with guns. I couldn’t do shit to save her and they made sure I knew it.
Sometimes I still feel their hands on me, holding me down, making me watch as they took her away from me. Every time I look at my father since guilt filled me, even though I knew there was nothing I could have done.
