Chapter 2 – Peter
Chapter Two
Peter
Present Day, in downtown Buffalo…
The last time I was at Belladonna’s with Gino, he was getting the number off some waitress before all hell broke loose in Pittsburgh.
Now, I can’t leave the house without my pain in the ass younger sister in tow.
Michael won’t hear a fucking word of protest because apparently, I’ve been getting off easy for far too long.
Bullshit. Just because I wasn’t stupid enough to get my eye hacked out doesn’t mean my life has been easy.
I have massive fucking problems at the casino. And I don’t know if anybody can get me out of this situation. Having to drag Flora along to this business meeting is a pain in the ass. She took forever getting ready, like messing with her hair is going to change the situation.
There’s no point in her dressing up since I’ll put a bullet in any man who looks at her or any man who even seems to attract her attention.
Pittsburgh is a big enough problem as it is.
Flora glares at me, but seems to catch herself before making a stupid comment. I’m more than happy to smack her cleanly across the face if she speaks out of turn. I’m nothing like my brother. I don’t want trouble and I very much resent having her presence in my life.
If I wanted children, I would have had them. Bearing responsibility for my sister holds no interest to me. Flora is… defective. Most of the women in this family are defective. There’s nothing obedient or submissive in their demeanor. It’s not just that.
They’re unnaturally cold. Look at Cosima.
Michael might have accepted the situation because of its benefit to him, but from the outside anyone with half a heart would judge Cosima harshly for what she did to bind her former tutor and my older brother together.
Angela is no better. She might be Luigi’s problem, but she’s always been a problem.
Her first husband was a mistake, then she convinced a man outside of our culture to tolerate her, but even he ran off.
Now, Angela has a husband who she will surely wrap around her finger soon. I anticipate Pittsburgh becoming a much bigger problem if these women aren’t kept under complete control. The more we try to fix these women, the more their deviance and deficiencies show.
I’m not so quick to believe that now that they’re all in Pennsylvania, they’re no longer our problem.
“Why are you in such a rush?” Flora asks. “Haven’t you been single for the last five years? Maybe ten?”
“I’m not Michael. I will smack the shit out of you.”
Flora annoys me and sometimes, my brother annoys me too.
Taking things easy with the women in our family has never led anywhere good.
My sister at least heeds my warning, although this doesn’t change her status as a general nuisance, and dresses up for the bar in an outfit that doesn’t force me to leave a bruise on her… like the last time.
“I look like a fucking Mormon.”
“You don’t look like a whore or aspiring OnlyFans model,” I respond to her. “Which is good.”
“What I’m wearing has nothing to do with how men treat me.”
I understand what she’s saying, I really do. But considering everything going on in Pittsburgh, the last thing my blond sister who towers over nearly everyone in high heels needs is to make her physical appearance so… attention-seeking.
Michael’s lucky that Cosima never showed any interest in men, especially ones that liked her. Flora is the complete opposite. We’re lucky she hasn’t run away already.
“You look fine.”
“I look great,” Flora says, meeting my gaze with indignation.
“I’m your brother, Flora. Not part of your fucking fan club. Let’s get out of here.”
“I need to post first.”
“Put the damn phone down.”
I have the car valeted at Belladonna’s. Not exactly on the books service, but I tip $150 to keep my car off the main roads somewhere I can access easily in case the night gets away from me. I don’t plan on letting Flora more than three feet away from me.
Flora and I walk into the bar together, meeting a solid crowd when we enter.
Huge weekend because of the playoffs. For the first time in what feels like a century, the Sabres are in the playoffs.
I have my doubts they’ll make it to the finals, but the energy in Buffalo is tense and excited the way it is whenever we feel like Josh Allen might deliver on what he keeps promising.
Flora grins and makes one of those annoying female screeching sounds when she sees the bartender. Holy fuck. I wish it were more socially acceptable for women to grunt. As I watch Flora greet her, I hear two guys behind me talking about my sister in a way that makes my skin crawl.
“Look at the ass on that blonde.”
“Quiet. Don’t you see…” the smarter of the pair says. I only know he’s the smarter one because he’s the one suggesting they shut the fuck up about Flora.
“That’s a load of bullshit, Mac. Urban legend. Damn, I would put my tongue so deep in that chick’s butt I would lick her farts.”
“Be quiet…”
I turn around, throwing a glare at the dude in the Bills hoodie saying this depraved shit about my sister. His friend punches him hard in the side of his arm.
“He apologizes,” the smart guy says.
I want to escalate the situation badly. Not just to teach this dick a lesson, but because I feel annoyed at the fact that I’ll have to watch Flora closely all night instead of having a moment of free time to enjoy myself. I don’t give a fuck about the shit twenty-four year old girls care about.
“Peter!” Flora calls out to me, right before I can punch the shit out of the guy mouthing off. “Get over here!”
He’s lucky that Flora demands my attention. I walk over to her and she slides me a glass of bourbon the same color as the stubble on my face.
“Is that drugged?”
Flora wrinkles her nose in disgust. “No. I’m not stupid like Cosima. Why do you think I got out of school so easily?”
Flora spent a few years married off to some Italian nutjob in Tuscany. He died of natural causes and she inherited a large sum of money. After my father passed away, she reached out to Michael and confessed that she was not still married.
Unfortunately, she got caught up in the Pittsburgh mess a few months ago and since then, Michael wants her on a tight leash.
Flora doesn’t thrive with a tight leash, especially not since she has a net worth of several million dollars thanks to her ex-husband and apparently after his death she spent nine months clubbing her way around Greece and Italy.
She only came back because she got into trouble, I’m sure of it. I take a sip of the bourbon, keeping my wits about me as the bartender passes Flora a drink that smells like coffee.
“What the fuck is that?”
“It’s an espresso martini, you uncultured swine.”
“Watch your mouth, Flora.”
“You should stand back,” Flora says to me over her shoulder. “I could meet my second husband here if you weren’t hanging all over me.”
The woman is completely shameless. Twenty-four years old and proudly moving on to her second husband.
She makes me feel old and traditional, which is funny because compared to Michael, I’m not.
All I care about is being with someone who I can be at peace with – someone I can grow old with.
My biggest problem is already being old…
and never meeting any woman who made me feel much of anything, as bad as it sounds.
“I was just telling Lizzie that if I don’t get a boyfriend by Christmas, I’ll get myself a boob job,” Flora says with increasingly shamelessness.
Heat spreads across my face. I can’t believe my baby sister is talking like that. A boob job? No. She’s basically a child. I drink half the glass of bourbon at once, forgetting my initial fears that Flora would drug me.
“You shouldn’t talk about your body like that,” I warn her, fighting back the urge I feel to escalate the situation.
“It’s my body, Peter. Not yours,” Flora says, brushing my nose with her finger like I’m her pet spaniel or something. “Drink your bourbon and let me discuss my plans for an upper bleft.”
“If you use either of those words around me again, I’ll lock you in your room without food for a day,” I snarl low enough that only Flora can hear me. She rolls her eyes.
“You need to get laid,” she says.
“Mind your business, Flora.”
Belladonna’s is the best place for me to meet up with Gino and hand him the key to the safety deposit box in my basement where I keep the cash for the week between pickups. I’m lending him a couple hundred grand for him to start up his own business out near the Onondaga nation in Syracuse.
The closest real Indian casino out there is Turning Point, but it’s all the way out in Oneida.
Plenty of clientele in the area who might be willing to buy in to a few tables.
Gino needs someone to take him under their wing.
He’s easy going, does what he’s told, and he prefers to keep to himself. Renzo is flashy and dramatic.
Gino reminds me of myself at his age. He has a lot more enthusiasm and a little bit less of a good head on his shoulders, but as long as he doesn’t let some pussy ruin his life, the kid will be just fine.
“We’re waiting for Gino again,” she says. “Ugh. He sucks. He told me that he knew a wide receiver on the Buffalo Bills who was looking for a way to keep busy this season and never delivered.”
I wish Flora was more interested in baking sourdough bread than guys. I’m already considering drastic methods for keeping her under lock and key. I’m willing to take things pretty fucking far to keep her safe.
“I never said we were waiting for Gino.”
“You’re not that smart, Peter.”
“Thanks, Flora. You’re not a real blonde.”
“Asshole.”
I grin, because she genuinely gets all torn up about the fact that she’s not a real blonde.
Who gives a fuck? Flora needs to learn at some point that her appearance doesn’t really matter that much outside of how much it enables her to move her body.
How far can she run? How much can she bench?
Whatever. I’ll never get through to my lip filler obsessed sister about the gym.
“Why don’t you hit on that lady over there?” she asks, pointing across the bar to a pair of lesbians in the corner.
“They’re gay, Flora. Show some respect.”
“You are such a dumbass.”
“What?”
“They’re not gay. The short one checked you out like… the second you walked in here.”
The women both look like they’re in their forties, which is a fucking relief. Everyone my age around here seems to have three to seven kids and I started feeling like the odd man out in my late twenties.
“Then why are they dancing together.”
Flora looks at me like she thinks I don’t have a brain.
“Are you gay, Peter?”
“Careful, sweetheart. I’ll sell you to the HVAC guy over there who was looking at your ass.”
“Who?” Flora asks in excitement, whipping her head around and seeing the only options for who I must be talking about. Her expression changes instantly. “EW! Oh my God, Peter, NO!”
“How much do you think he would pay for a crack? $200?”
“I’m not selling pussy for $200, you asshole!”
I finish my bourbon and laugh at Flora’s distress. Gino walks in at the right second. She’s beating me on the shoulder with a drink menu looking like a genuine crazy person while I calmly let my gaze wander over to the woman Flora claims was looking at me. She might not be a lesbian.
Maybe she just works in an office. That would explain the shoes.
Not like I care that much for fashion but…
this woman dresses on the mature side. Conservative.
Not the type of woman who wants to spend time with a guy who owns casinos.
My gaze lingers on her a little too long and she looks up at me.
My chest startles as her eyes drop to my lips and she smiles.
Fuck, Flora is right. She’s looking right at me…