Chapter Eight
As much as I wanted Bethany in my arms, this was a suicide mission that I was slowly talking myself out of.
As I walked past the gates ready for flights to different places, an attendant caught my eye.
Blond hair wrapped up in a bun helping a passenger with a question at the desk in front of the gate.
She reminded me of Bethany and there was a powerful tug at my heart.
Sometimes life threw you signs and you just needed to go with it.
Today felt nostalgic as my past seemed to play before my eyes.
“Rachel told her sister how you’re a bit tight on cash,” Marco says.
Uncomfortable that Rachel would say something like that, I shrug it off, “Times are a bit tough right now. Nothin’ I can’t handle.”
“I’ve asked around about you. You keep your head down and out of trouble. Work 3 jobs to support your mother and sisters.”
Now it is really uncomfortable. If he knows that much then he knows my mother is a junkie and my sisters don’t share the same father as I do.
“I do what I can. What can I get ya to drink?” I say wiping down the bar countertop.
“a 7-7.” Marco leans on the bar. “I got a job for you. Pays more than what you’re making busting your ass 24 hours a day.”
Marco is a made-man and I know what kind of work he needs done.
“It’s not my style,” I politely decline.
“I only ask once,” he looks at me gravely. “$2,000 for a job doesn’t sound too bad, does it? All cash.”
With widened eyes, I hand him his drink. 2k for one job. That will go a long way.
“Think about it. If you’re interested meet at the pond when the sun sets tomorrow.” Marco walks away with his drink and goes to a table where 2 other men are seated.
I had no intention of going. It was thundering outside and the night sky lit up with bolts of lightning as I walked home, barely being able to see in front of me.
Home. Most people find home their safe haven but for me – it was the last place I’d rather be.
The only thing that kept me from getting my own place was my two sisters.
Cassie and Marie weren’t old enough to fend for themselves.
I was the reason they had food to eat, clean clothes to wear, and a roof over their heads.
Finally reaching the front of the broken down house, I huffed in frustration at the loud music.
Typical behavior from my mother. She was having one of her parties and I was surprised the cops hadn’t shown up yet.
A few people were in front of the house chatting barely able to stand up.
“Party’s over,” I say to them sternly.
“Buzz kill!” one of them said.
“That’s Cindy’s son. Hates when she gets to have a little fun,” the other sneers at me.
Choosing to ignore them, I entered the house. The music got louder when I opened the door and the house was covered in smoke. Tobacco smoke, cannabis smoke, bong smoke – you name it. People making out, people passed out drunk, people dancing. It was a mess.
“Parties over!” I shout as I turn off the music. “Get the fuck outta here.”
Quickly searching the house for my lack of a mother, I find her in the kitchen cooking up some meth. Nothing pisses me off more than her doing stupid shit in the house.
“Everyone out!” I shout.
“E,” my mother slurs her words, “I thought you were at work.”
“Yeah, that was hours ago.” I turn off the stove and again tell everyone to leave, “You don’t need to go but you need to get the fuck outta here.”
Everyone in the kitchen moans in disagreement making my mother protest. “This isn’t your house E. If anything, I should be telling you to leave.”
Tired and angry, I get in her face, “If you don’t cut this party – I’ll call the cops right now.”
She sneers, “You rat!” lunging at me, I move aside and watch as she falls to the floor.
Sick to my stomach, I walk toward the staircase to my sisters bedrooms to check on them. Both of them are in my tiny bedroom crunched up in bed. Cassie is awake holding Marie in her arms.
“Hey,” she whispers when she sees me enter the room. “E, we can’t.” Dried tears on her face let me know she was up all night consoling Marie. They hate nights like these.
“I know,” I reply. “Gonna make some changes around here. Promise.”
There is no other choice. I need get them out of here and Marco is the answer.
The flight was just under 4 hours but within that time all I could think about was my past. It felt like I fell from the top and am now worse than I was before I became Emilio Pugliese. If only I were back in the simpler times when I was just E.
“Why me?” I stand looking confused.
“You knew my brother, Marco.”
“Knew him on the streets, did a favor or two but I wouldn’t call him a friend.”
“We were talking just moments before he was killed,” Luca gulps and clears his throat, “He told me if I ever needed help or didn’t know who to trust that without question it’d be you.”
I inhaled and exhaled as the plane took off the ground causing flutters in my stomach.
“I’m not one of you.” I know how things work in this lifestyle, you can only be initiated into the family if you are of Italian blood. “It’s code and you’re breakin’ it.”
“I’m about to break more than just a code,” Luca shoots back. “Who will know anyway?”
“The fellas here, in Chicago, to start.”
“Who says we are staying in Chicago?” Luca is confident, almost making me believe I can pull it off. “You just need a name that sounds Italian. What does E stand for?”
“It’s just E.”
“Your mother just picked a letter?”
“Inspired by one of her favorite party candy.” It is the first time divulging that to anyone but it is true.
Luca, taken back by everything about me, nods his head. “Okay, so pick a name that starts with E. Introduce yourself as that name and let everyone start calling you that.”
“No one close to me is going to go for that.”
“When they know who you work for they will.”
“You’re not taking no for an answer are you?” I shake my head, “No one will take you seriously having me as your right hand.”
“No one knows enough about you to know the facts,” Luca pulls out a carton of cigarettes and hands one to me.
I knew if I took one that I’d be committing to his plan and serving as his right hand - this would be life changing. Cassie and Marie would be taken care of. Cassie can open up the beauty salon she always wanted, and Marie can go to a better school. Extending my hand, I took the cigarette.
“Snack? Drink?” The stewardess snapped me out of my thoughts.
“You got something strong? Pour me whatever you got.”
Handing me a cup of brown liquor, I took a sip. The person sitting next to me was tapping his finger on the tiny tray in front of him.
“Itching for a smoke?” I mention.
“These nicotine patches are trash.”
The grumpy response made me laugh.
“I used to loathe people who smoke,” the man went on, “and now it’s the only thing that calms me down.”
“What got you started?”
“Work.”
With a smile, “It’s always work.”