Chapter 9 – Luigi
Chapter Nine
Luigi
“ Y ou’re a real bitch,” Angela says after thirty minutes of driving towards Buffalo.
Our fight at the lake house was a typical sibling fight.
You both call each other the worst names imaginable but…
you can’t stay angry for long. Angela and I have always been relatively close, even if she thinks all men are scum and I think about… other things.
“Thank you,” I respond sarcastically.
She ignores my sarcasm and puts on a smug face that I find particularly annoying for belonging to my younger sister. “ Finally. ”
“That was sarcasm.”
“It should have been authentic,” Angela says rudely, reminding me of the horrible fights we would get into during her middle school years when her sassy attitude peaked. “I got you what you needed. Pussy. Who cares if she’s black?”
I don’t have to glare at my sister for her to realize how fucking much she pisses me off. The thought of her discussing my sex life and considering herself a part of the decision making process frustrates me. I’m still a human, though. Delphine was… different. But different doesn’t mean bad.
We had fun this morning. And it had nothing to do with Angela’s drugs and instead had to do with… something unworthy of discussing with my sister.
“I know you fucked her,” Angela says after I ignore her comment, hoping she changes the subject to Taylor Swift or a Nordstrom sale.
“Angela, please. I’m your brother.”
“So when you and dad sent me to Pittsburgh to marry some fifty-eight year old freak, that was fine?”
“It wasn’t. But it was fourteen years ago. You can’t keep hanging onto shit.”
I know it’s not what she wants to hear, but I can’t tell my sister what she wants to hear right now.
I don’t believe I was wrong for following my father’s wishes.
He’s family. Our family. And this is our thing – helping each other out.
Finding ways to keep our cities in the hands of strong Italian families.
“You’re an asshole,” Angela says, her voice getting suddenly sad, like we’re not just bickering anymore. “You’re just like Leandro.”
“It would be an honor to be like our father. He might be a scumbag, but his way has kept this city safe for the past twenty years. We ought to be grateful for that.”
“Easy for you to say. His rival didn’t break your feet.”
“I’m looking after you, sis. That’s all I want.”
“Then that’s what I’m doing. Looking after you.”
“By encouraging me to knock up a black woman knowing that…”
“That what? Our family accepts liars, cheaters, murderers and God knows what else. She’s black. If we want to stay in control of this city, we can’t be racists.”
“It’s not about race. It’s about culture.”
My words sound and feel hollow. Angela rolls her eyes.
“You already fucked her,” Angela says. “How much do you really care if you have to let your little sister hear you losing your virginity?”
“I’m not a virgin.”
Angela laughs. “Men are so sensitive.”
“That’s enough discussing my sex life.”
“What?” Angela teases. “You’re going to lock me in the condo until I think about what I’ve done?”
“Pretty much.”
She continues probing at my sex life despite my obvious discomfort. “And go back to the lake house to fuck your black girlfriend in secret.”
“Shut up.”
“God, you really are Italian,” Angela teases me. Heat rushes to my cheeks. This conversation is inappropriate on so many levels and I can’t wait to escape this situation and have her safely imprisoned alone for a few days until she grows to appreciate me.
“Did you not hear me?” Angela continues annoyingly. She drives me crazy. Absolutely fucking… wild.
“Oh, I heard you.”
I can’t wait to get Angela out of my car.
When I get to the penthouse, I walk her upstairs and make sure she has enough food and television to entertain herself before I pack a duffel bag with enough clothes for a week.
She pesters me about where I’m going and I grace her with a portion of the truth.
“I’m going to work out with Mikey before I go back to the lake house to check on her.”
“She probably figured out how to escape by now.”
“You know better than anyone that I don’t leave my property unguarded.”
“There are gaps in even the best systems,” Angela says hopefully. She has no proof of any “gaps” in any of my systems. If she tries to escape, which she has in the past, I will swiftly discover it and send one of our cousins to get her.
“You remember what happened the last time you tried to leave.”
She gets all huffy with me because nobody in our family will forget the backlash that followed from Angela’s first, and last, successful escape attempt.
“I’ll wait,” she grumbles nervously, just in case I overreact. “Don’t take too long.”
“It’ll just be a few hours, Angela. FaceTime Renzo if you need entertainment. They’re in Sicily. Six hours ahead. He might need help with his homework.”
I drag myself away from the conversation and leave.
Captives have a tendency to bore you with conversation when you try to leave them alone.
Not unique to Angela. Mikey texts me that he’s ten minutes from the gym and calls me a fat fuck, which motivates me to speed over to the warehouse with the Tahoe for a serious upper body session.
I need to clear my head of all the bullshit with my sister and even more fucked up, the bullshit with Delphine.
What the fuck is Angela’s point? And does it even matter? I slept with that woman because I wanted to. The contract had nothing to do with it. That was just an excuse.
The consequences might be more than I can handle but…
there’s something twisted about this revenge.
This loophole. I understand how fucked up it is to bring a child into this world under these circumstances but…
my father won’t live forever. Delphine wants to be a mother.
I can simply pay her to look after the child a few cities away from us… Syracuse or Utica, maybe.
A swift guilty tug at my conscience makes me clear my head of those thoughts entirely to focus on getting my ass to the gym.
Everybody stares at me and Mikey when we walk into Iron Syndicate, our local family-owned gym.
It’s pretty common whenever I go out with him and sometimes it's fine, other times I hate the extra attention.
He lost an eye when he was thirty years old and the scar still cuts across his face from the base of his neck over his lips and nose, crossing the missing eye to his hairline.
He was cut up pretty bad in that fight. His physique just makes the scar look more terrifying. Mikey the beast. Everyone we run into during our workout side-steps out of the way. It’s peaceful to get that kind of respect.
“How’s Angie?” he asks with a cocky smile on his face.
“Enough. I need a break from her.”
“I heard she pissed your dad off.”
“How hard is that to achieve?”
Mikey chuckles. “You need a vacation, man. It’s always the same old shit in Buffalo.”
It’s a simple statement, but so unbelievably true. Shit weather. Shit football team. Shit situations.
“I’m on vacation for about a week. Angie’s on lockdown.”
He laughs. “She pissed you off too?”
“You always take her side even if she’s an insufferable bitch.”
“Her ex-husband broke her feet. Seventeen years of ballet out the window because Uncle Leandro married her off to a freaky ass Sicilian pedophile. She’s got issues. Who wouldn’t?”
“She agreed to the marriage.”
“Come on, man. You know how your dad gets.”
All of our first memories involve some flicker or outburst of Leandro Taviani’s rage.
Either about a football game loss or a financial loss of some kind, dad was always on edge.
Those were the dark ages of the mob, however.
Old age mellowed him out and we don’t have the problems we used to anymore.
We won’t have those problems unless Carmine Corsini dies out in Pittsburgh before Renzo and Gino return from Italy.