Chapter 2
Davide
Two months later, I was extremely excited to finally be accompanying papà on his business trip to the States.
When our private jet landed at the Louis Armstrong International Airport in New Orleans, I felt like we entered a different world.
I’m sure I worked his last nerves bombarding him with my many questions.
Papà patiently answered me as he looked over paperwork while we were riding to our destination.
Thirty minutes later, we were pulling up to a gated community. The driver said something to the guard after we stopped at the booth, then the gate was opened.
“Papà, where are we?” I question, looking around at the beautiful homes.
“It’s a surprise, Davide.” He replies, putting the paper’s back in his briefcase.
Slowly, a large white house with black trimming came into view. The driver turned into the circular driveway then parked in front of the house.
“Whose house is this, papà?”
“It is mine, Davide,” Was Papà’s response before he got out the limo when the door was opened.
Suddenly, the front door of the house swings open with a little girl bolting out, running straight to him. He squats down and catches her, then lifts her in a hug.
“Ciao, piccola (Hello, little one),” He greets. “I have missed you so much.”
Who was this little girl, and why was papà telling her he missed her?
“Mi sei mancato anche tu, papà (I’ve missed you too, papa).” The little girl gushes back.
Wait a fucking minute! Did this girl just call my papà her papà?! I must have heard her wrong.
“Davide, get out of the car. I want you to meet someone.” Papà instructs, still holding the girl.
Once out the car, I stared at the pretty tawny-skinned little girl who looked to be a few years younger than me.
Her curly dark brown hair with sandy colored highlights fell to her shoulders.
When she turned to my direction, I gasped as the same light brown eyes as me and Papà’s found mine. Who was this girl?
“Davide, I’d like for you to meet your little sister, Dominique.” Papa introduces as he puts Dominique back on her feet. “Dominique, this is your big brother, Davide.”
Dominique nods her head then stares at me. “Ciao, Davide. è un piacere conoscerti (Hello, Davide. It’s nice to meet you.)” She sounded so innocent and sweet as she spoke Italian with her southern accent.
My head swivels from Dominique to papà then back to Dominique. Sister?! I had a little sister, what the hell?! “Papà?”
“I know figlio; there is much we need to discuss, but do not be rude.” He lectures.
“Hello, Dominique.” I greet. She gives a toothy grin, before catching me off guard when she wraps her little arms around me for a hug. I eye papa, who smiles at the display.
“Hello, Alessandro,” An older feminine voice says from behind us.
Dominique releases me, rushing to the beautiful African American woman standing in the doorway.
“Look, momma, papà brought Davide with him!” she beams.
The woman smiles as she takes Dominique’s hand and walks down the walkway. She winks at papà before turning to me. “Hello, Davide. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Calista St. James, Dominique’s mother.” She extends her hand out to me. I stare at it momentarily, before taking it.
“Calista, will you have the staff take our luggage inside. I need to have a word with Davide in the office.” Papà requests.
“Sure, that won’t be a problem. Lunch should be ready by the time you’re through.” Calista responds.
“Papà, can I come?” Dominique asks, taking his hand.
“No, not this time quello piccolo (little one). This is just between your brother and me.”
She gives the cutest pout that has papà chuckling before he starts to tickle her.
When he was done, he instructed me to follow him.
Though the house wasn’t as big as ours back in Cefalù, it was just as grand.
Calista had it decorated beautifully, and what surprised me the most was when I trailed behind papà to his office, the pictures of myself hung on the walls beside Dominique’s.
Once we were in the office, he sat me down and explained the situation.
Apparently, while he was here on business years ago, he fell head over heels for a woman by the name of Calista St. James, and Dominque was the result of their affair.
My mother and his marriage was an arrangement that many of the families did long ago to secure their status.
While he loved my mother, he was not in love with her.
Although he admitted he was wrong stepping outside their marriage, he would not deny Dominique as his child, and he wanted the two of us to be a part of each other’s lives.
Now that she and I were older, he felt that it was time for us to start getting to know one another and bonding.
I sat there in utter shock as he told me everything. I mean, I knew my parents loved each other, but I had my suspicions also. They were never as affectionate as the other parents I came in contact with. They were never mean or vile to the other, but it was always something lacking.
“Davide, do you have any questions?” Papà asked, leaning against the desk.
I was sitting in one of the chairs in front of him. I had a lot of questions running through my head at the time. “How old is she?”
“Dominique is two years younger than you, so she’s eight.” He replies.
I nod at the idea of having a younger sister, then ask, “What is she, papà?”
He lets out a deep laugh. “What do you mean, figlio (son)?”
I pause, trying to get my words together. “I mean, is she a Russo or St. James?”
Papà quiets his laughter, becoming serious.
“She is a Russo, and don’t you ever forget that!
One of the reasons why I brought you here was because you needed to know about your sister.
Dominique will have it harder than any one of us because she is half African American.
You will have to look after her, Davide.
You are her big brother and someday will be leading this family.
I don’t want anything to happen to her, do you hear me? !”
“Yes, papà,” I reply. Locking eyes with him, I knew by father’s tone this was no playing matter.
Even though I felt bad about him cheating on mother, I couldn’t blame Dominique for it.
Papà must have really cared for Calista to have a child with her.
There was no denying she was my little sister.
I would do what papà asked of me. “I will make sure nothing happens to her, papà.”
He smiles. “Thank you, Davide. We’ll only be here for a few days, and I want you to spend time her and Calista. I know this is a lot to take in at such a young age, figlio, but I’m doing this now so you and Dominique can start to build your bond as fratello e sorella (brother and sister).”
It was a lot for me to take in at the time, but once I got to know Dominique and Calista, they became my family too.
Dominique was the little sister I never knew I wanted, and when Calista welcomed me with open arms, she became my second mother.
After that first meeting, I was able to travel with papà once a month back to New Orleans to visit with them.
Over the next few years, that’s how our visits went.
I was always counting down the days till it was time for us to board the plane to go see them and the new friends and family I had met.
I think I only missed two or three visits due to either me being sick or I had a school function that kept me from going.
Dominique and I kept in touch by phone or emails to check up on one another.
Momma Calista, I affectionately called her now, would even call me once a week to see how I was doing and to make sure I was keeping up with my studies.
During my time at home, I began hanging out more down in the Level.
I introduced Luca and Matteo to my new friend, Piero.
I thought they would hit it off with him, but they were a little standoffish.
It didn’t bother me because just like them, Piero was my friend too.
Being down in the Level wasn’t something Luca and Matteo liked to do, so I split my time between hanging between my two sets of friends.
By the time I was sixteen, things were going smoothly. Papà was still training me and starting to teach me small things in the business. It was the summer before Luca, Matteo, and I were entering high school, and we were making the best of it.
Tonight, all the families were attending a gala being held at Don Romano’s estate so he could make a grand announcement.
I really didn’t want to go because Piero and the boys were throwing a party down in the Level and there was this one particular girl I had been talking to, named Francesca Danese, who was going to be there.
I tried to get out of going to the gala, but papà wasn’t having it.
He said unless I was sick, I would have to attend.
I stood in front of my mirror, adjusting my bowtie that went with the black tuxedo I had on. I felt awkward in it. I vowed that when I became Don and threw parties, no one would have to wear these monkey suits.
“Davide, are you ready?” Papà calls from down the hall.
“Here I come,” I yell back, before running my fingers through the top of my dark hair that was long on the top.
He and mother were waiting for me in the foyer when I made it downstairs. Papà had on a tuxedo similar to mine, and mother wore a mauve colored evening gown that complimented her olive skin.
“Non hai un bell'aspetto. (Don’t you look handsome.)” Mother gushes, as she comes over and fusses with my hair.
“Mother, stop,” I protest, moving my head to the side.
She huffs. “Non so perché ti rifiuti di tagliarti la cima dei capelli. (I don’t know why you refuse to cut the top of your hair.)”
“Aurora leave the boy alone. I see nothing wrong with his hair.” Papà states coming to my aide.