Chapter 8
FRANCISCO
The sun beats down on my shoulders, and it feels good to be outside. I stand on the golf course, Giovanni by my side. We shoot the breeze, looking around at all the fancy folk who come to the club for a little R & R. They think their shit doesn’t stink, but I know better.
Whenever we come to the country club, people point and whisper.
I’m okay with that. I know they don’t like me.
They would prefer that I be like them, with their cutthroat deals made in back rooms that cut union workers off at the knees.
Instead, I am the union workers on steroids, and I never let them forget it.
It’s hilarious to watch some of these old biddies twist themselves in knots to forget what it is I really do. They’re all attracted to my money and yet repulsed by the idea of violence. Yet, I think that in their heart of hearts, they may also be drawn to the dark side.
I’ve seen some of the tennis bunnies glance my way occasionally.
Some of them will even wink. I could have one or two if I so choose, but I mostly refrain from sampling the women.
Plenty of men in my shoes might be tempted.
Hell, plenty of men in my shoes would give in, and hop from one chick to the next.
I’m not like that. I was in love with Alessia, and it feels wrong just to stick it to any woman who looks my way.
Like I’m disrespecting her memory or something.
Even so, I appreciate some of the looks.
I keep myself trim, and it’s nice to know that I’ve got options.
Giovanni isn’t quite so circumspect. He tastes the goods when he gets a mind to.
He’s mixed it up with a few of the wealthy families at the country club, sleeping with both mothers and daughters.
No one gets in our way, though. Fathers and husbands may be pissed, but they’re not stupid. They know not to mess with us, and that’s the way I like it. Of course, we’re not going to get any golfing partners from among the sheep. But we aren’t the only ones who have a dangerous past.
I’ve got a number of acquaintances at the club who’ve been known to gamble and get in fights. There are all levels of criminals on the golf course, from the white collar to the blue collar and everywhere in between.
I spy the mayor on the green, and I roll up my sleeves. The golf course is an excellent place to do business. The mayor isn’t corrupt, but he won’t turn down a good deal either, and I’d like him to sign off on a project I’m financing. It’s for a series of wind turbines on the outskirts of town.
“Bob!” I say, approaching him with my golf club in hand.
“Cisco,” he responds, using the nickname that only a select few are allowed. I don’t mind. He’s telling the world and all his golfing buddies that we’re close. He’s giving me a nod to let me know that he’s willing to listen to my request, and that he values my friendship.
We shake hands and play a few holes before getting down to business.
“I was wondering when I would hear from you,” Bob says.
“Yeah, well, I’ve been pretty busy,” I respond.
“Aren’t we all?” He chuckles.
“You remember Giovanni,” I say, introducing my brother for the umpteenth time.
“Of course,” the mayor says.
“I’d like to stop by your office,” I announce, knowing that’s not exactly the type of friendship he has in mind.
“Can’t we conclude our business on the golf course?” he asks. “Fewer cameras, if you know what I mean.”
I laugh. He’s all about political posturing, and I can respect that. If I were him, I wouldn’t want to be seen with a mobster like myself either. “All I need is a handshake,” I say.
Bob reaches out to shake officially, giving me a grin and a pat on the shoulder. He likes to pretend that he’s the biggest dog in the city, but we both know who runs the town. Now that the business has concluded, we’re safe to talk about other things.
The mayor has an adult daughter who’s studying art somewhere in Europe.
We talk about her for a while, and then we talk about sports.
The mayor’s wife is giving me the side eye, and I wonder why in the hell she’s on the green to begin with.
She’s not a golfer. She’s just here to be a thorn in my side.
“Why don’t you go get us some coffee, sweetheart?” I ask just to put her in her place.
She scowls, adjusts her sun hat, and stalks back to the golf cart.
“Go easy on her,” the mayor protests.
“You’re not gonna win any more elections if she won’t give you some breathing room,” I suggest, hinting at the fact that maybe I had something to do with his current political position.
It’s true. I have that kind of effect on people. I can rally the vote when I need to, and confuse the process to the point where my guy always comes out on top. Bob and I had an understanding a while back, and I know he appreciates it.
“I’ll talk to her,” he says.
“You do that,” I agree.
My phone pings, and I pull it out of my pocket.
Frankie: Dad, I just got an A on my exam!
It’s like he’s still a kid and coming home with papers he wants me to post on the fridge. I’ve gotta hand it to him. His heart is in the right place. I know he wants to become a lawyer to give back to the family, and I grudgingly appreciate the sentiment.
Me: Good job.
Everyone else in my life’s got their hands out for a paycheck, but not Frankie. All he wants is my respect. He works so hard, even though he doesn’t have the head for grunt work or scholastic life.
That tutor of his, though. It’s been about three weeks since she’s been working with Frankie, and I have to say I’ve seen an improvement. He’s all business about college now. Instead of having a bunch of slackers around the house, he keeps to himself, studying and reading up on the latest cases.
Whenever I see him in the hallway or at the breakfast table, he can’t wait to tell me about whatever it is he’s reading. Some of it is pretty interesting, I have to admit. Like the information about what cops can and can’t do. I find that particularly valuable in my line of work.
I can’t help but think about Marlena. I see her almost every day as she walks into the house.
She doesn’t know I’m watching, of course, but I know her schedule.
I know she goes upstairs to work with Frankie and doesn’t come out for a couple of hours.
I know they’re not doing anything but work up there because I asked.
“Dad, no,” Frankie said over breakfast one morning.
“You sure?” I asked him. “’Cause she’s a looker.”
“She’s not interested in me,” Frankie replied, which made me feel strangely relieved.
“Good,” I’d snapped. “Keep it that way. We’re not paying her to roll around in the sheets with you.”
“I’m paying her,” Frankie reminded me. “Not you.”
“Oh, really?” I teased, pushing him around just to show him who’s boss. “And where do you get your fortune from, son?”
He’d clammed up after that, but I learned a thing or two.
Whenever I can work Marlena into a conversation, I do.
I’m curious about her, and Frankie’s the best source of information.
I’m still concerned that she’s hiding something.
But as far as I can tell, it’s not mob-related.
If she’s in with a rival family, she’s either really good or clueless.
No, there’s something else about her, something that tells me she knows her way around a backroom but that she’s not too happy about it.
Of course, I only spoke with her that one time.
But that was enough. I can’t help myself.
I want to know everything. I watch her as she climbs out of her car.
That unconscious swish of her hair as she turns around to grab her purse.
She bounds up the steps with the kind of energy a man like me could appreciate.
And then she disappears, where I can’t see her anymore.
It almost makes sitting in my office bearable.
And then there’s the knowledge that she’s in my home.
I feel complete when she’s there and somehow lacking when she’s gone.
It isn’t that we talk to each other, or even that I see her on a daily basis.
But somehow, just having her in the same building is reassuring.
I sigh. I’m getting sappy in my old age. That’s not going to do me any favors. I have bigger and better things to think about, like this wind turbine deal. I can’t afford to have my head in the clouds when it comes to some girl.
But I can’t deny that I’ve got feelings I haven’t dealt with since Alessia’s death. I wonder if the two of them would get along. I wonder what Alessia would say if I asked for her permission to start courting Marlena.
That concept is ridiculous, and I shake my head to clear it. I’ve gotta focus on my golf game, not on some crazy teenage fantasy. The girl is too young for me, and besides, I still don’t know much about her.
I put my head down and concentrate on my shot.
When I started out, I wasn’t very good at golf.
I’ve gotten better over the years. But it’s not a game that demands perfection.
None of the goombahs who make deals on the green is Tiger Woods.
We’re all just in it for the social aspect, for the networking.
It’s money rubbing elbows with money, and the sport doesn’t exactly require much thought.
I swing and connect, sending the ball flying. Glancing up, I can see Giovanni looking at me with that knowing glint in his eye. He thinks he’s got my number, but he’s mistaken. No one knows I’m carrying a torch for my son’s tutor. Not even Frankie. And I’d like to keep it that way.