Chapter 2
Cipriana
Once the Lucrazis leave our house, I run over to triple lock the door, then sprint to my dad still wiping his mouth free of blood.
“You okay?” my voice tremors. “What’d they do to you?”
He swallows hard. “Water, hunnie.”
I rush into the kitchen to fill a glass and yank a roll of paper towels with me before rushing back to Dad. “Drink.” Holding the cup up to his swollen mouth scares me. I’ve never seen him so vulnerable. He’s quick on his feet though, I have to say. “Dad. That appeals shtick.” I shake my head.
He nods. “I knew I raised a smart girl. It was to buy us time, at least to get you somewhere safe.”
I hug him around his big belly. “I’m not going anywhere without you. You’re all I have.”
“Capri…”
“Don’t give me that.” I wipe up the blood on his face.
“Listen very carefully. The five families only protect their own. I’m not a made man or anything like that. I’m just an outside constituent.”
“Who’s kept more guilty jerkoffs out of jail than I can count.”
“And who’s been made a rich man because of it. It’s business, hunnie.” He coughs again. “Now, here’s what I’m going to do. Out of all my cases, there was one I had to work a particular type of miracle. Stanzo DeMatteo.” He swallows more blood.
I remember that case – the man was facing multiple life sentences for drowning over twenty organized crime affiliates.
But the jackass FBI attorney confiscated private invasive surveillance – sound and all – without the express consent of the property owner.
So… guess who figured out where to find that owner and have a nice conversation with him? My scheming father.
“Get my phone. He’s our only shot.”
“The dude is like eighty now, Dad. And not the godfather type eighty. He’s an old hitman. What’s he going to do, throw his dentures at them? Seriously, think about who just came after us. That Groundhog guy is freakin’ terrifying.”
“He’s sixty-eight.” Dad laughs in disbelief. “Where’s your manners for the elderly?”
“I’m trying to stay alive, Dad. Why don’t we call the don? He can fix this up.”
He shakes his head. “No family is going to go to war over me. But maybe… it’s a longshot, but maybe I can appeal to this mobster’s honor.”
“That sounds like an oxymoron. How about, let’s not and say we did?” I rub his back. “Let’s dump your pretty Porsche, buy a Toyota, and drive across the country.”
He stares at me with sadness in his eyes. “Now that we’re targeted, Capri, it’s over. There’s probably a car across the street waiting for us to try. And anywhere we go, Sonny will follow. Because as he sees it – his brother is in jail because of me.”
My hands ball into fists. How could everything have fallen apart so fast? How did this even happen? He’s supposed to be the best criminal lawyer there is.
“The clock’s ticking, hun.”
My lips fold into a line as I get up to grab his phone. “Stanzo… Stanzo…” I scroll the ‘S’ section in his contacts, then through the ‘D’s.
“He’s under G for Glove.” Dad holds a paper towel and ice over his lip as he starts waddling around.
“I don’t even want to know.” I wrinkle my nose and put the phone on speaker. If I were Stanzo, I wouldn’t even pick up Dad’s call. He’s radioactive in the mafia world now. He has to be. National TV, social media, this case is going to be everywhere.
“Hello?” a deep voice picks up. “Never been called by a ghost before.”
That line sends a shiver down my back.
“Yeah well, this ghost remembers putting his neck on the line so you could see your son grow strong,” Dad says smoothly.
“Mph.” Stanzo has no words. I guess he can’t deny it.
“I need that favor you promised me all those years ago. You know I wouldn’t ask if I had another choice.”
“Place in Summit, Jersey still?”
“Yes.” Dad covers the mouthpiece and sighs with relief, knowing the direction the call is going.
“One hour.”
Click.
Dad’s whole body deflates, and I take him to sit on the couch.
“What happened with the case, Dad?”
“My connection failed me. The FBI held up a piece of evidence under lock and key that I had no defense against. A video of the kill—cold blood, a little off-center, but otherwise as crisp as a movie.” He holds his head.
“Guess the FBI was sick of losing to me.” He laughs sadly. “Now I pay the price.”
“Don’t say that.” My hands are still quivering from the shock of it all. I can smell the sweat and grime of Groundhog’s skin even after I washed my face. Trauma gets burned in, I guess.
Dad holds me in his arm for the next twenty minutes, rocking me back and forth on the couch like I’m a kid again. It’s comforting, actually, and calms my nerves considerably, even if deep down I know we’re likely screwed.
I wish there was something I could do. Suddenly following my dreams of saving the planet seems like a useless road. There’s no NDA or third-party contract agreement that’s going to save the day here. Eight years of college for what?
“Alright, hunnie, let’s get you in your room so I can talk to him alone when he comes. C’mon.” He struggles to his feet and grabs my hand.
Still just a useless kid.
I don’t protest though, because Stanzo scares the shit out of me. He and his grumbling son, Tristano. I mean, who the hell has a mafia father-son duo? Do they take turns slitting people’s wrists and cigar-cutting fingers? I go numb just thinking about it. Best leave Dad to do what he does best.
He walks me to my room and shuts the blinds of the sliding glass door leading to our pool, then he stops in the doorway with his hands on his hips, smirking sadly at me. “I’m going to keep you safe, Capri, even if it kills me. And… I hope you can forgive me about today.”
I nod. “I’ll be okay. I’m strong.”
He looks to the floor, then turns and shuts the door behind him.
What else is there to do but sit on my bed with my legs hugged into my chest, waiting for some dark knight savior to make this nightmare go away?
I look at my phone, tempted to call the cops.
But only an idiot would think the cops could save us from the Lucrazis.
They probably have more people on the inside than they do on the streets at this point.
The walls of my bedroom suddenly seem so small and enclosing after every thought.
I’m freakin’ trapped.
I go to work – basement. I come here – prison. Why are all the high-end places so confining?
A text from Gil pops up:
Gil— Wanted to make sure you got home okay after your big incident in the kiddie pool.
“Dick.” I smirk. Would’ve been funny if I wasn’t actually threatened an hour ago. Still. Not my type .
Knock! Knock! Knock!
I gasp when I see the shadow of a gloved fist knocking on the glass of my patio door. “Oh my God. Oh my God . Dad!”
“Relax, kid. I’m the help. It’s Stanzo,” a muffled voice comes through. Sounds like he’s been smoking a thousand cigarettes a day.
Thoughts race in my mind. What’s the likelihood the Lucrazis already tapped Dad’s cell? Who the hell wears a glove in eighty-five-degree weather? A freakin’ killer!
His voice is the same as when he spoke on the phone. Has to be him.
I bite my lip while tip-toeing near the blinds, then peek through as my dad barrels into the room.
He stumbles to the door and slides it open, begging in the man with a grey beard and upside-down tear-drop tattoos crawling up his neck – whatever that means.
I shut my eyes tight when I realize how silly the two of us are. Of course a hitman would know we’re being watched from the front.
“You really think we would’ve waltzed into your front door?” Stanzo cackles, giving my dad a big hug when he sees him.
We?
“Hi, Capri, didn’t mean to scare you.”
Your voice alone makes me want to hide beneath my bed.
“Hi, Stanzo. I’ll let you boys hash it out.” I wiggle my fingers at him, hoping that’s enough so I don’t have to touch him.
“No. No. You stay,” Stanzo orders, and I freeze in my tracks.
Dad furrows his brow. “Stanz, there’s no reason—”
“Humor me, old friend.” Stanzo pulls out two cigars, offering one to my dad, which he doesn’t accept.
Yuck. Is he really going to light up in my room?
“The door’s open, sweetie. You don’t mind, do you?
” He eyes me, flicking on his torch lighter and puffs until a curl of white smoke lingers between his eyes.
My neck stiffens. You’d think by now I’d be used to this kind of trouble in my house, but I’m not.
Wish I was in the J. Witt basement right now with Jacky and friends.
Even another awful scuba lesson with Gil would do.
Suddenly, lesser Michael Phelps doesn’t seem so bad.
“Still smoking those things, huh?” Dad asks.
“No point to stop now,” Stanzo says grimly. “You didn’t call the don, I take it? Nah, you’re too clever for that.”
Dad huffs.
“Yeah, yeah. Pulling out the ace… The one who was man enough to shed tears on your dining room table.”
“Said you wanted to see your son grow, and were terrified that you’d miss all that,” Dad says.
“But because of you, I didn’t.” Stanzo points two fingers at Dad.
It’s like I’m not even in the room. Why am I here, again?
“Well, now it’s my turn – I want to live long enough to see my daughter taken care of. I’m scared, Stanz, that I might not get to. I’m scared they’re going to come after her . Help me like I helped you.”
My belly swells with a sad sense of warmth. I’m still in shock that this is actually happening, but it is, and I better get used to it fast.
“Well if I did help you, Rocco, and they found out it was me… It’d start a war even Donny Valentino couldn’t handle.”
“I know what I’m asking,” Dad says firmly. “It’s like I said, I have no other options.”
Stanzo nods. “Turns out, timing is on your side once again.”
“I don’t follow.”
Neither do I.
Stanzo points slowly to his own throat, and my eyes widen.
Oh God…
“I’m dying, Rocco. You’d think in a lane as fast as mine, a blade or a bullet would’ve knocked me outta’ the race decades ago. But instead it’s my own damn body.”
“You mean those stupid cigars.” My dad folds his arms.
“A little of that too,” Stanzo hoots. “Listen, I still think I have a few good years left in me. And what do I want out of them? Grandkids. ”
My breathing quickens. I’m sitting on my hands so he doesn’t see the wave of panic that just washed over me. Why else would he want me in the room?
“Tristano comes home with glitter on his face every other fucking night. If it doesn’t have tattoos and slide down poles, he won’t even give it a second glance. But your daughter, now she’s a beautiful antidote to my kid’s poison.”
My dad – rattled and dazed from before – catches on sluggishly. I see his face pull back in slow motion. “Are you mad, Stanz? I’m not selling my daughter .”
“Hey, hey .” Stanzo’s calm, terrifying voice reminds us both who we’re in the room with. “Take it easy. I’m offering an arrangement, of sorts.”
“Out of the fucking question!” my dad blurts, now pacing around the room.
Stanzo leans against the doorframe while taking off his black gloves, then pushes the blinds away to reveal his son.
“Him?” I should watch my tone, and my tongue.
Look, he’s hot. Like, really freakin’ hot.
Six-foot-two, full head of dark messy hair, tattoos peeking out of his open shirt, and a scar over his eyebrow that would make my slit cry with glee on any other day of the week.
But if he’s anything like I remember when I was a kid, the dude has the personality of a wet rake.
And he’s dangerous. Opposite of sitting behind a desk writing agreements, dangerous.
“Whoa now. You Dotellis gotta find your manners.”
“Oil and vinegar,” my dad growls. “How are you going to take my sweet kid into your dark world, Stanz? That’s the opposite of what I’m trying to accomplish.”
“For a sharp-tongued lawyer, you sure can be dense at times,” Stanzo says.
“Look at it this way – you’ve been playing with fire since your thirties.
You got cocky. Overstayed your welcome. Now you’re in deep even if I’m able to take out Sonny Lucrazi.
She’ll need protection, old friend. Who better than my fucking lion of a son?
” He pushes himself upright and sticks his stinking cigar in Dad’s face.
“One thing you should remember, you got yourself into this mess. No one else.”
My eyes linger between the waving blinds, catching glimpses of Tristano pacing outside. His muscles have freakin’ muscles, and that skull-crown tattoo peeking out of his polo sends tingles all over. It’s like my body is pinching me to go talk to him.
What Stanzo had said before finally reaches my overtaxed brain. Strippers? Prostitutes? The man is probably a walking STD. Get out of your head, Capri.
My gaze shifts to Dad – a ball of sad, round anger with a button nose that gets all red when he’s flustered.
He’s the one who gave me this life. No debt out of law school, set up my first interview.
Raised me with love. Of course he’s not perfect, but I still owe him everything.
If I marry Tristano, then all this hanging fear over our heads goes away – right?
“I see that brain calculating, Rocco my boy.” Stanzo slaps his face lightly. “You’re coming to the conclusion I came to on the phone. Blood money can’t buy your way out of everything, now can it?”
My dad huffs and wipes his mouth. “I get what you’re saying here, married in… she’d have built in protection. I just… not my little girl.” He winces. “Listen, if at the end of the day Sonny... you know. Promise me you’ll protect her when I’m gone, at least—”
“Daddy!” I pop off the bed, then turn to Stanzo. “May we have a minute to talk over your generous proposal , please?”
“’Course, sweetie. I’ll be, uh, admiring the pool.” Stanzo takes a puff of his cigar while exiting through the glass door. He then closes us into a cloud of strong-scented smoke.
“There’s no other way to keep us both alive – both of us . And you trust him,” I speak the obvious, so he knows I understand.
“Capri—”
“No, Dad. I’m not going to lose you. I love you.”
Tears are turning his eyes glassy. “Love you too, hunnie. But—”
“There’s nothing more to say.” I guide his hand still clutching the ice wrapped in a paper towel back to his face. “I’ll do it.”