Chapter 46
FRANCISCO
Ireplay the gunfight in my mind a thousand times. I hate that about trauma, and I’ve lived through a fair number of traumatic events. The way the brain goes around and around, trying desperately to fix things, is exhausting. I finally decide to do something about it.
I fired several times at Andretti and didn’t hit him.
So maybe I need to brush up on my marksmanship skills.
A trip to the gun range will do me good.
It will allow me to vent my frustration and also improve for next time.
And there will be a next time. I swear I’m going to get even with him even if it’s the last thing I do.
I check in with Marlena’s bodyguard. He’s taken to sitting in the living room rather than outside her door. I’m okay with that as long as he’s paying attention. I don’t want Marlena to feel like she’s in prison.
I grab Edoardo and walk out the door. Giovanni’s busy talking to one of my capos who’s having a problem.
My brother is still handling a good portion of the daily business, and I feel guilty about it.
I should be the one in the field talking to the men, smoothing things over.
But he’s stepped up and continues to step up.
He would make an excellent Don if he wanted the job.
Lucky for me, he doesn’t, so he puts in the work on my behalf as my second.
We get in the car and talk about bookmaking all the way to the range.
Edoardo has a bit of an affinity for gambling and likes to keep a close eye on that part of our business.
He tells me that he was stopped by a couple of bookies yesterday, and they’re all pissed about these new phone apps stealing their players.
“What are you gonna do?” I ask.
“Maybe bust some heads?” Edoardo suggests.
“Have you tried any of the new apps?” I ask, pleased to get my mind off Marlena for a moment.
“Yeah, I’ve tried them,” Edoardo admits.
“What do you think?” I press him for details.
He shrugs. “I like them.”
I shake my head. “You’re complaining about them, but you like them.”
“All I’m saying is that maybe there’s an angle,” Edoardo continues as we get out of the car.
I let the subject drop, walking into the gun range like I own the place, which I do. I go into the back to open the safe that holds my personal equipment. Edoardo waits at the door, arms crossed, looking fierce. I unload two pistols and a set of noise canceling headset.
We take them back to the firing range where we stand shoulder to shoulder, emptying our rounds. Edoardo pauses and puts his eyes on me. I can feel his stare boring into me and wonder what he’s so intent on.
“You don’t seem like yourself, boss,” he says thoughtfully.
I put a bullet in the head of the target in Edoardo’s lane, effectively telling him to shut up. He takes the message and turns away. I don’t need my own staff questioning my decisions. What I need is Carlo Andretti in my crosshairs.
Two hours and many rounds later, I’m finally feeling more like myself, and we set off.
I was a little off my game, but after practicing, my aim is better.
I need to do this more often. Even though I’ve got a ton of things on my plate, I need to make room for more regular practice.
It’s the only way I’m going to manage to stay focused in an actual gunfight.
I arrive home to find Marlena waiting for me. I can see what she’s going to say. It’s written all over her face. Still, I go through the whole song and dance with the irrelevant chit chat.
“How are you?” I ask.
“Okay,” she says, meaning anything but. “Can we talk?”
“Yeah,” I agree, trying to stall.
The longer I can draw this out, the more time there is before I hear her awful words.
I walk her back to my office, where I offer her a seat.
This is more like a business conversation than a marital one.
Although the stakes are much higher. We’re not talking about money here, or power, or who controls what street.
We’re talking about our lives, about our hearts and why our relationship is ultimately doomed.
I pour myself a drink. She gets the message. She’s silent for so long, I hope she’ll reconsider. But just as I take a sip, she stands up.
“When I get to Italy, I’m going to stay with my family,” she says, working up to it.
“That’s the plan,” I tell her.
“I’m not coming back,” she states.
I turn to face her and I can’t keep the hurt out of my eyes. She sees it and almost begins to cry. I’m not making this easy for her, and I don’t care. I don’t want it to be easy. I want this to be the most difficult thing she’s ever done.
“I can’t stay,” she begins, her voice cracking. “Please try to understand.”
“I don’t,” I snap. “You have a choice.”
“My brother—”
“I don’t care about your brother,” I say viciously.
“That’s the whole problem!” she cries. “I promised him that I would keep him safe.”
“And you did,” I remind her.
“Only after he was kidnapped and tortured,” she insists.
“That wasn’t your fault!” I shout, raising my voice even though it unnerves her.
I’m grateful that the walls are soundproofed, and that no one else in the house can hear us.
This is a private conversation, but I can’t help feeling like there are more people involved.
She’s so concerned about her brother, about her father, about the law and the way people will see us.
I can’t help any of that. All I’ve got to offer is myself, and it tears at my heart to know that isn’t enough.
Marlena cowers at my outburst. I turn away, afraid that I might do something I regret.
The last thing I want to do is drive her away.
I want to create such a welcoming home that she’ll be drawn to it and never want to leave.
But she’s chosen her previous life over the new one.
She’s bowed to fear and hostility and won’t accept that our love is the solution.
“Go,” I whisper.
She obeys my command, hurrying from the room.
I turn around only when I hear the door click shut, and by then it’s too late.
I look around my office, it all seems so normal, what any businessman would have in his office.
But that’s the thing, I’m not a normal businessman, and that’s the whole problem.
I sweep my hand across the desk, knocking everything to the floor. I pick up the lamp and smash it into the desk, the sound of crackling glass only driving me closer to the brink. I grab books off my shelves and slam them into the wall, one after another, over and over again.
It isn’t enough. Nothing I can get my hands on will satisfy my rage. In blind desperation, I punch the door until my knuckles bleed, until the pain of what I’m doing resonates through me. Exhausted, I stumble back.
There’s a knock at the door. I want to ignore it, but I can’t. I have a job to do, and that means being available to my people. I grip the doorknob and yank it open, not caring who sees the mess I’ve made.
Frankie’s standing there, and when he catches sight of the mayhem, his eyes soften. “Hey Dad,” he says, stepping inside.
I turn away, stalking to the far corner of the room. It’s my son, one of the few people who don’t need to fear me. Just the sight of him brings me peace. Even though I’m losing Marlena, I still have Frankie. And I still have Giovanni.
I slump down to the floor, putting one hand over my face.
For a man who is always in control, being unable to stop my wife from leaving is the worst possible thing.
Frankie works his way through the broken glass and scattered furniture to sit by my side.
He puts an arm around my shoulder, and I’m touched.
He’s a good kid. He protected Marlena when it counted, and he’s here to comfort me. I wouldn’t let any other man touch me, but Frankie’s sympathy is a welcome relief.
“I saw Marlena,” Frankie says.
I don’t respond.
“She was crying,” Frankie continues. “Judging by the state of this room, something bad happened.”
“She’s not coming home from Italy,” I say. “She just wants me to put her on a plane, and that’s it.”
“I’m sure she didn’t mean it,” Frankie tries.
“She meant it,” I insist. “She’s worried about her brother, and she doesn’t want to be tied to the life.”
“She knew what she was walking into,” Frankie reminds me.
“I don’t know if she did,” I sigh. “I don’t think she’d ever seen something so violent.”
“It’s rough for everyone,” Frankie says. “Even me. Even Giovanni.”
“I can’t ask her to put up with it,” I groan, realizing that I’m about to let her go.
Frankie looks around the room, sizing up the destruction. “I didn’t realize that you love her.”
I pause, letting the weight of the words sink in. I do love her. I’ve loved her for a while now, only I haven’t had the balls to admit it. All the promises to make things right, to keep her safe, weren’t just posturing to impress her, they were because I care for her, really and truly.
I love everything about her, from her hair to her soft brown eyes. The way she smiles and says my name. I love her curves and making love to her in the bedroom, and in the limousine, and beside the pool. I love how smart she is, and how she’s willing to put everything aside for her family.
I remember how hard she fought getting on that airplane, how she gave me the silent treatment for a full day. I remember how she told me that she didn’t want to make love to me, and then turned around and made the first move.
“I’m never going to find someone like her again,” I say. I know it’s the truth. I was damned lucky to find Frankie’s mother, and after her I thought I would never fall in love again.
But life gave me a second chance, and I squandered it. I caused the only woman ever to mend my broken heart to walk away, and there’s nothing I can do to stop her.
“If you care so much about her, go talk to her,” Frankie says.
“Her mind’s made up,” I say.
“Talk to her, Dad,” Frankie insists. “She’s stubborn, but so are you. You’re equally persuasive, and I know she loves you too.”
“What can I offer her?” I demand. “I live in the dark, when all she wants to do is live in the light.”
“Come on,” Frankie says, pushing me away. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Go talk to her.”
I look over at him, surprised at his sudden take-charge attitude.
Is this the same kid who jumped aimlessly from career to career before finally enrolling in law school?
Is this the same kid who refused to fight the playground bully and got smacked in the face growing up?
I wonder what I’ve done to deserve such a levelheaded son.
“You’re smart,” I say, giving him a small smile.
“Smarter than you,” he teases.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I reply, chuckling softly.
“I didn’t make a mess of my room,” Frankie observes. “At least not since I was a kid.”
“All right, Mr. Know-it-all,” I exclaim, rising to my feet. “You want me to talk to her?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I want you to talk to her.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I poke fun at him.
Frankie looks up at me, apparently not in any hurry to leave. “There was a time when I thought your marriage was insane. But I can see now, you guys are meant to be together.”
I’m not sure that’s true. Life hasn’t treated me well, and I definitely don’t own a pair of rose-colored glasses.
But it feels good to hear Frankie be so optimistic.
I look down at myself, realizing that I’m disheveled.
My hand is bleeding, and my shirt is missing a few buttons.
But I’m not going to convince Marlena to stay with me by lying.
She knows who I am and how I feel. It’s time to show her once and for all that I’m the right man for the job. Me, with all my bruises and scars.