Chapter 27
FRANKIE
After discovering who Sofia really is, I start an internet search.
My father has people who can do this much more effectively than I can, but I don’t want to ask them.
I’m filled with shame at my part in the whole debacle.
I am the one who let Sofia into the house.
I’m the one she led around by the nose, pretending to care.
I should be the one to fix this.
I go back upstairs to my room and open my laptop.
I begin with social media, hoping she’s less clandestine with her online friends.
I remember my father telling me that people are incredibly stupid when it comes to posting sensitive information.
They let their desire to be a part of the conversation get the better of them.
This isn’t the first time I’ve done research on somebody. Occasionally my father asks me for help when there is a new recruit. My job is to go through their feeds from the very beginning, looking for anything suspicious. So, I turn my attention to Sofia, amazed at the snow job she did on me.
There I was, trying to date this woman, and it never once occurred to me to ask for her social media handles. She could have been posting anything for all I knew, and it would have been highly suspicious if she refused to share.
I find her right away, under the name she gave me.
At least that’s something. She didn’t lie about her identity.
I discover that she’s not a heavy user of social media at all.
There are a few posts, but most of them are years old.
There’s one picture where Sofia’s arm is wrapped around a man who almost looks like her twin.
I’m guessing that’s her brother who passed away.
After that photo, there isn’t much else except an announcement that she’s working for the newspaper.
I switch over to another platform and another, each time discovering the same thing. She had a robust online presence until her brother died. Then it was crickets most of the time, with the occasional newsworthy update. I’m not going to learn very much from a basic search.
I move onto the next level of surveillance by switching to the various databases I have access to.
In his dealings with government officials, my father has opened doors that didn’t used to exist ten years ago.
We can search for people in several different online places, which helps whenever we are attempting to meet anyone new.
Uncle Gio had me run a few background checks on some shopkeepers we met with recently. All I have to do is turn that spotlight onto Sofia. I enter her name and address into one of the databases, and I’m able to see her entire rental history. There’s not much there, so I check out another resource.
After two hours’ worth of work, I don’t know a whole lot more than I did when I began. She’s a private person who suffered a tragedy. It looks like she threw herself into her work, and I suspect she has some kind of vendetta against my family.
My father is pretty high-profile, though he does his best to keep his name out of the papers.
I can’t imagine what specific story Sofia has been working on, but obviously it’s important to her.
I don’t want to consider how heartless she must be to have used me the way she did, but I have a hard time not dwelling on it.
She broke my heart and made me look like a fool.
Eventually, I realize I’m not going to learn anything more about her, so I close down the laptop and take a break. I go downstairs to help myself to a sandwich. It’s almost lunchtime, and I’m running on fumes.
Uncle Gio and my father are in the kitchen.
There’s a lot we could say to each other, but I’m not in the mood.
I almost turn around at the first sign of other people, but I force myself to continue.
I grab a loaf of bread and the leftover chicken from two days ago.
Slicing a tomato, I make myself a sandwich and I’m about to take it back upstairs with me when Gio stops me.
“How are you doing?”
“Fine,” I mutter.
“Sit down,” Gio commands, pulling out a chair.
I’m stuck. I can’t disobey a direct order from either my uncle or my father, and they know it. I’ve been in this family too long to buck tradition. I sit down, sliding my plate onto the table. I stare at the bread for a long time, waiting for someone to get to the point.
“I’m sorry,” Dad says.
“Why are you sorry?” I wonder. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I brought her into the house.”
“Did you discover anything?” Gio wants to know.
“Not much,” I admit.
“Do you know what story she was working on?” Dad asks.
“No.”
“All right,” Dad decides, standing up.
“Wait,” I challenge him, rising to my feet.
We lock eyes, and for a moment, I feel like I’m back in high school.
I want to assert myself, but in the presence of my father, that’s a difficult task.
But this is my problem. I don’t need or want his help to deal with it.
Of course I can’t kill Sofia, not even if my father ordered me to, but I have to do something.
We don’t say anything to each other. There’s not much to say. I manage to convey the fact that I’m serious about retribution, and my father can see it in my eyes. He nods eventually, handing over the authority to deal with Sofia to me. When all has been decided, we finally seal the deal verbally.
“I’ll take care of it,” I promise.
My father gives me a proud pat on the back.
I haven’t yet decided what I’m going to do, but I’m not going to take this lying down.
She insulted me in the worst way possible, and there have to be repercussions.
It’s not just my honor on the line either.
She interfered with my father’s business, and that can’t be forgiven.
“Do you want company?” Uncle Gio asks.
I glance over at him, wondering how much I can safely say.
There are those within my father’s organization who would jump directly to murder.
I could hire someone to take care of it, or better still, take care of it myself.
But I’m not a killer, not by my hand or by proxy.
There has to be a better way to satisfy my anger but hold onto my values as a person.
I’m not sure what that is at the moment, so I can’t answer Uncle Gio’s question.
I’m not weak, but I’m not ready to go busting down her door either. I need time to sort things out. “No,” I say finally.
“What do you have planned?” Gio persists.
“I’m not sure,” I say honestly.
“You’re not going to kill her?” Gio asks.
I look at him thoughtfully. In any normal family, that kind of question would raise red flags.
In fact, in our family, it’s a bit of a taboo as well.
I don’t have any personal knowledge of my father killing anyone or ordering anyone to be killed.
We don’t know what kinds of listening devices the government has planted.
Even if there are none, it’s dangerous to say that kind of thing out loud.
I wonder if Gio would have been so blunt if I wasn’t already in training to become the next don. I feel like I’ve stepped up a level to where I can be trusted with that kind of secret. And I’m not sure how I feel about it.
There’s a war going on inside me, one that has roots deep in my childhood.
I don’t want to disappoint my father, but I need to be my own man.
Sofia is my problem, and I’ll take care of her in my own time.
I don’t think she presents an ongoing threat, although I’m not going to wait forever.
I just need to process what happened and come up with a solution that works for everyone.
“No,” I answer finally, putting a stop to that entire conversation.
My father shakes his head at Gio, warning his brother not to pursue the matter. “I know you’ll do what’s right,” he says.
“How about we go play some golf?” Gio suggests.
I look at him as if he’s speaking Latin. “Golf?”
“Yes,” Gio says. “We can formalize your club membership.”
I’m so confused. Here we are, in the midst of a crisis, and Uncle Gio wants to play golf. Not only that, but he seems to be worried about my social standing with a bunch of businessmen and politicians. That’s not even on my radar at the moment.
“I think I’ll pass,” I say.
“It’ll blow off some steam,” Gio insists.
“But I have studying to do,” I argue. “And don’t we have some meetings to get to today?”
“We can do all that after the golf course,” Gio replies.
I look at my father for some assistance. Surely he agrees with me that playing golf isn’t the right move. But he doesn’t step in to assist me. Instead, he pats Gio on the back as if agreeing with him.
I roll my eyes. It’s not that I have anything better to do.
I do need to study, but I’ve been studying, and my mind isn’t in the game.
All I’m going to do if I go upstairs and crack a law book is stare at the page.
I won’t be able to focus, and I know it.
So why not go play golf? At least then I’ll be out in the sunshine and moving around.
Who knows, maybe that might jog something loose in my brain and I’ll be able to figure out what I need to do about Sofia.
“All right,” I agree reluctantly.
“Great,” Gio says. “Meet you in the car in five minutes.”
Five minutes isn’t a lot of time. I look longingly at my sandwich, knowing that I won’t be able to enjoy it. Walking away, I take the stairs two at a time. Back in my bedroom, I glance at Sofia’s shoes. They’re still sitting beside my bed as if waiting for her to return.
I pick them up and throw them in the trash. It’s a small move, and it does nothing to make me feel better. The girl deserves a much steeper punishment than the loss of a pair of heels. But nothing’s coming to mind at the moment.