20. Brando
20
brANDO
S itting on the back porch of my home, I watch the sky transform into a deep blue hue. A half-empty bottle of bourbon sits next to me, its golden liquid gleaming in the dim light. Mia’s absence feels like a hole in my world that I cannot fill. Allegra steps out onto the porch, framed by the doorway. She pauses for a moment before making her way towards me.
“Brando,” she says softly, her voice filling the night air. I force a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes as she settles into the chair beside me, her gaze full of compassion.
“Scar told me about Mia.”
With a heavy sigh, I release some tension from my body. “I don't want you worrying about me, Allegra.”
“Because I'm a new mother?”
“You need to focus on Scarlett,” I respond.
“That doesn't mean I neglect my brothers, Brando. We're family.”
Allegra's expression softens as she leans forward and rests her elbows on her knees. “You have to stop blaming yourself for things beyond your control. Mia made her own choices.”
“But it's still the wrong choice,” I protest. “It's like...I can't function without her here. It's like watching a train wreck about to happen but being unable to stop the train. I feel like I failed her.”
“It was her decision,” Allegra reminds me gently.
“You make it sound so simple. Mason Ironside came to me for help, and I couldn't protect her. She was my responsibility.”
“You're not responsible for her every move,” Allegra counters. “Mia is on her own journey, even if it's a dark one right now. You can only be there for her when she needs you.”
Running my hand through my hair, I look out at the trees swaying in the night breeze. “I want to do something, anything, but I don't even know where to start. It's like I'm watching from the sidelines while she fights a battle I can't see.”
Allegra places a comforting hand on my arm. “You're not on the sidelines. You're fighting with her in your own way. You're her anchor, Brando, and she will find her way back to you.”
I turn to her, meeting her gaze. I wish I had her unwavering optimism, but right now I can only feel a mix of hope and despair swirling inside me. “What if she doesn't come back? What if there's no second chance for us?”
Allegra shakes her head, determination in her expression. “You can't think like that. Losing her is not an option. You have to believe that she'll come back to you. And when she does, she'll need you to be the man she knows you are - someone who would do anything to protect her.”
As I look into her eyes, a spark of hope rekindles within me. Allegra has been a strong presence in my life, a voice of reason amidst the chaos in my mind. She's right; I cannot succumb to despair. Mia needs me to be strong and hold onto faith for both of us.
Allegra gives me an encouraging smile and squeezes my arm before we sit together in silence under the night sky. With renewed determination, I vow to fight for Mia - not recklessly, but by staying grounded and standing strong beside her. I will never give up on her, not now or ever.
The cool breeze carries a hint of the impending winter as I stare into the darkness, feeling the weight of Allegra’s words. It's then that Scar emerges onto the porch, his face etched with concern.
“You two still out here?” Scar queries, stepping into the soft glow of the porch light. His eyes flick from Allegra to me, reading the scene.
“We’re just talking,” Allegra replies, her voice steady and soothing. She looks at him like the world starts and ends with him, the weight of a thousand emotions in her eyes. They’ve come a long way from their humble beginnings when they were taking turns trying to kill each other.
Scar nods, looking at me with a brotherly sternness before he meets his wife’s eyes with a softness that is rarely seen in my older brother. She and Scarlett have become everything to him.
“It’s rare to see you home, brother,” he remarks.
I exhale sharply, frustration bubbling within me. “Guess I needed the company.”
“You know I don’t like you staying at the penthouse.”
“That’s just temporary.”
When Scarlett’s soft cries reach the porch, Allegra stands and excuses herself, leaving me sitting with Scar in our shared silence.
“Until Mia comes back?”
“I need to find her,” I finally admit out loud, giving voice to my deepest fear and resolve. “I need to ensure she’s safe.”
“How’s the tracking going?”
“Her phone’s offline again. Falcone’s definitely using a jammer so she can’t make or receive calls.”
He fixes me with curious eyes. “To what end? You were able to track her to the restaurant.”
“It was the only time we had a signal. It’s been radio silence ever since.”
“This can’t be just about Mia,” Scar says. “Not after all this time.”
“Well, he’s got her where he wants her.”
“You don’t break up with someone then just turn up ten years later. Doesn’t make sense, Brando; this seems personal.”
“It doesn’t get more personal than kidnapping her sisters then forcing her back into his arms.”
“I think it’s time to meet with the Maltese,” Scar says, even though I’m not altogether sure that they can be trusted. “It’s time, brother. I’ll set up a meet and text you the details.”
Mason has been missing in action. I’ve tried to keep him tethered to my side, but lately he’s been prone to disappearing on me, making it hard to communicate anything with him. In a way, he seems disconnected, like if he shuts out everything that’s happening, things will work themselves out somehow. He fails to understand that finding his nieces is not going to be simply a matter of waiting and hoping for the best. We need to go to war. It’s the only way to get them back.
I’ve enlisted the help of some of my men to keep tabs on him. He’s volatile at best at the moment, and I think I have to make an effort to ensure his safety so that when Mia and her sisters come back, they at least have one family member waiting in the wings for them.
I find Mason exactly where Lupe tells me I’ll find him – at a local bar after closing time, sprawled over the counter, a bottle of tequila in front of him. The absence of my new friend has not gone unnoticed, and the weight of Mason’s silence feels like a storm brewing on the horizon. He’s the only one that shares my obsession and determination with finding Mia and her sisters, the only one with whom I feel like I can commiserate without losing a piece of myself in the process.
“Mason.” My voice cuts through the haze of alcohol and despair. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Mason looks up, squinting his glazed, bloodshot eyes at me. “What does it look like? I’m having a drink.” He sounds like he’s well on his way to getting drunk.
I step forward, angry at him, angry at myself. I remove the bottle of liquor, even as his protestations fill the empty room. The barman raises his eyebrows and looks at me as he grabs the bottle, agreeing that Mason has had more than enough.
“You’ve had enough, let’s go.”
Mason lets out a hollow laugh, the sound devoid of humor. “Mia’s gone. She doesn’t need me anymore,” he slurs. “I’ve failed her. I’ve failed all of them.”
“Failed? What are you talking about?” I ask, my brow furrowing in confusion.
Mason takes a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly as he reaches for another shot. I push it out of his way and in return, he throws me a stony glare. “You’ll never understand, Brando.” He shakes his head.
“Understand what?”
There is only sorrow on his face as he looks down at the empty glass in front of him. He is a deep well of despair, the very indication of human frailty as he buries his regret at the bottom of a bottle.
“I’ve lost her. I failed her and now she’s lost to me. Mia will never even know the truth of who I am to her.”
My heart races. “What do you mean?”
Mason closes his eyes, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It doesn’t matter anymore. She’ll never know.”
It could be that he’s drunk. Or it could be that he’s too far gone that he doesn’t know what he’s saying. But there’s a deep curiosity inside me to know what a drunk Mason has to say.
“What won’t she know, Mason?”
“I’m her father. I’m Mia’s biological father.”
Blood rushes to my head, and I feel like I’ve been doused with icy cold water. My eyes widen, a seismic shift rumbling through the room. “What? What are you talking about, Mason?”
“I’m Mia’s father.”
“But…Tommy Corsica…?”
“Wasn’t her biological father,” Mason admits, anguish lacing his words. “Her parents had an open marriage. They loved each other, but they also loved me. I was the third person in that bed.”
“You’re drunk,” I remind him, although the reminder is more for myself than it is for him. He’s too drunk to know what he’s saying. A drunk Mason Ironside spews shit he has no business saying.
“When they died, I lost everything,” he starts again. And now, I’ve failed to protect her. She’s out there, and I’m here, drinking myself to death. Because that’s exactly what I deserve after failing her.”
I feel as if the ground has shifted beneath me. “You’re telling me that all this time, you’ve been protecting her and her sisters because she’s your daughter?”
“Yes!” Mason exclaims, his voice rising with desperation. “Mia is an extension of my heart. When I lost her parents, I lost my family. I promised I would always look after her, but now… now I’ve lost everything.”
I drop heavily into the stool across from him, the weight of Mason’s revelation settling heavily in the air. I wonder if he’ll remember this conversation in the morning. I wonder if he’ll admit to it when he’s once again coherent and not so drunk. I came here to check up on him, not expecting a night of revelations.
“Does she know?” I ask him. I don’t know that this changes anything between us, but it explains why Mason has been so protective of the girls, so fixated on finding them.
He shakes his head and tells me the three of them, Mason and her parents, decided it was in her best interest to keep quiet about it until she was older.
“You never thought to tell her? She’s going to hate you for keeping this from her when she finds out.”
“That’s why she can never know, Brando.” He shoots me a warning glare, daring me to be the one to break it to her. Not my place, I think. “I wasn’t prepared to be a father, never even gave it a thought. But once I found out that Mia was mine, I did the best I could.”
“That’s a whole other conversation for another time,” I tell him. “We need to find those girls.”
“I’m scared, Brando,” Mason admits, this eyes wet with moisture. “I’m terrified that Frank will hurt her and I’ll never see her again.”
“Then get up and help me find her,” I hiss, determination igniting in my chest.
“We’ve looked everywhere,” he reminds me.”
“Not everywhere,” I remind him. “We’re taking the search to the backyard of the Maltese.”
He looks at me in confusion. Just two days ago, we’d been destroying the Maltese stronghold, annihilating everything in sight. And now we were planning to enlist their help?
“They can’t be trusted, Brando.” His warning wraps around me like a thin blanket. We’ve always known the Maltese cannot be trusted, but they, like any other organization, want to belong. And Scar is the master negotiator amongst us. I know he’ll sweeten the pot enough for them to start talking and give us what we need.
“We’re meeting them tomorrow, Mason. You need to go home and sober up, otherwise I cut you out.”
Mason stumbles off his stool and tries to straighten, almost falling off his feet. The man is way past drunk, and I can understand why. Just the thought of not seeing the woman I now know to be his daughter would have done that to him.
“Need a shower,” he slurs, as he turns and heads for the door.
“Come on, Mason,” I sigh, holding him under the arm as we leave the bar and I lead him to my waiting car. “You need more than a shower.”