Chapter 14 Maria #2
“How quaint of him,” Don Franco said, and then strode forward.
I stepped to the side, not knowing what to do.
He entered the loft, and then hung his cane by the door.
He hung his hat there as well. The coat hanger had been Elio’s idea.
And now his father was hanging his things from there. “So this is where he lives nowadays.”
“Don Romano, I think it’s very improper that you’re here when he’s not,” I said, trying to reason with him. He had been a reasonable man the last time we’d talked. And yet, this time around, I could not find the same reason in his behavior.
“You’re here, aren’t you? You opened the door, let me in… and it should come as something of a shock to you if I told you I wasn’t here to meet Elio. I came here to meet you,” he said, sitting down on the couch.
“Me?”
“Yes, you. The wrench thrown in the works, as the saying goes. I still haven’t figured out who placed you in that room, at that time, and that too with the highest bid.
Who are you, really? But before you go ahead and tell me, how about some tea?
Talking is thirsty work. Before we’re done, we’ll have talked a lot. ”
Feeling confused, vulnerable, and exposed, I went to the open kitchen and put a kettle on.
“Why are you here alone?” I asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be accompanied by like a dozen people or so?”
He smiled at that. Looked at me and gave me a wink. “You’re something sharp. And I’m a man who hates the word coincidence. The more I look at you, the less I believe it was a coincidence that you crashed my auction.”
“Jeez!” I groaned. “Enough about the auction. What’s the big deal with it anyway?”
“I was hoping to marry that woman,” he said, looking uncomfortable, his fingers interlocked, his gaze lost in the distance. “I still hope to do that. But I cannot do that without Elio’s blessing. She will be his step-mother, after all.”
“Your son’s twenty-eight. I think he’s past the point of worrying about step-mothers. He’s not a teenager, Don Romano.”
“You can call me Mr. Romano, Franco, or just Frank. This entire air of formality is not conducive to conversation,” he said.
I made tea for both of us, and offered it to him.
“Earl Grey, no sugar,” I said.
“Only a fool takes Earl Grey with sugar,” he said.
“Well, I guess that makes me a fool,” I said, raising my cup at him with a sheepish grin.
“In Earl Grey?” he asked indignantly.
“I don’t drink tea at all, Frank,” I said.
Somehow, calling him Frank felt extremely awkward.
I had to stick to my guns now. But there was something else.
Now that I’d used his first name, he didn’t seem as frightening.
He, however, did not like being called that, despite his insistence.
“And when I do, I have to make it palatable. I’m not one of those people who can drink tea for pretend. ”
“But you sit with me, and you’re drinking it now.”
“That’s not pretend. That’s me being courteous. That’s two different things,” I said.
“To courtesy, then,” he raised his cup at me. “Common or otherwise.”
I watched him take slow and deliberate sips from his cup, all the while looking around at the place. As unfortunate as it was that he was here, it was good that he’d visited after we had done all our decoration and renovation of the place. He was looking impressed.
“Did you do all this?” he asked. “Are you living with him? Don’t you think it’s a little too soon to be doing that?”
“Frank, I hope you do understand that I don’t owe you the answers to any of these questions,” I said, not losing my calm.
As a journalist, you had to learn quickly enough that you were not supposed to get daunted by powerful men.
You were supposed to interview them, find out what dirt they were hiding, and then leave before they got suspicious.
“But I will tell you this. Your son did more than half of this. I’m not living with him, but I am seeing him. And I am serious about him.”
“Good, that’s good,” he said, putting his cup down, and then almost casually asking, “Is he serious about you?”
“I’m housesitting for him, aren’t I?”
He laughed dryly, then said, “Meaning he’s throwing a party with skimpily clad girls and plenty of alcohol and drugs, and you, his supposed partner, are not even there with him.”
That stung. Elio had not mentioned the details of the party and the deal, and I had just trusted him at his word.
Was it true what his father was saying? No.
He’d come here to rattle me. The caricature he’d painted of his son was not the same person who I had spent time with.
So maybe it was time to go on the offensive.
“Why do you hate him? What does he do, steal your thunder? Is that it? Do you envy his freedom? Or do you hate him because he’s all that you are not?” I asked.
“Chess?” he asked, pointing to the chess set on the table. “Do you play?”
“I dabble.”
“Then let’s have a game.”
I sat across from him, let him take the white pieces, and then waited for him to make his first move. He moved a pawn forward. I moved mine forward.
“I have never hated him,” he said.
I scoffed.
He glared at me. “I mean it. All I wanted from him as a father was to show me that he was prepared for the world. Should something happen to me… he’s the only person that I leave behind. My sole heir. He’s all the legacy I’ve got. And when I see him act foolishly, I fear for my legacy.”
“So your concern for your son has nothing to do with who he actually is, and everything to do with what he represents. Your legacy. You know, that other guy, your nephew, Robert, Uncle Lucas’s son, that guy.
You should make him the next don. Look at how hard he tries.
He is your spitting image. He’s a made man.
A capo, if I’m correct. I don’t know anything besides what Elio told me.
He’s the same age as Elio, but he upholds the values of the old country. He’s as mafioso as it gets.”
“He’s not my son. That’s what’s wrong with it. I love Robert like a son, but I also fear what he’ll do in my absence. I fear that he’ll steer this whole thing the other way around, enforce all the old rules, all the old ways. I do not want my name to be besmirched like that.”
The game was moving fast. I’d lost a rook, a knight, and a bishop. He had lost four pawns, a knight, and a rook. It was still anybody’s game. He was fast. He was keeping me on my toes.
“Frank,” I said, looking at him, anticipating his reaction. “Your…err… establishment is not so clean. You still stick to your old ways. It’s kind of an open secret.”
“An open secret, eh?” He chuckled. “We wouldn’t be a mafia establishment if we were completely legal, now. And if the powers that be don’t have a problem with that, why do you?”
“The powers that be being the cops, the mayor, the IRS? They’re hardly the benchmark for objective moral goodness.
Your men still go out and threaten other businesses.
You hold the monopoly for construction in New York.
That’s not a coincidence. You retain influence over politics and judges.
You know what you do. There’s a reason they call you Don Romano.
You are a dangerous man. And Elio sees that.
He distances himself from you. He doesn’t even try to replicate your personality.
He’s his own person. He laughs freely, makes jokes about everything, and he lives in the moment instead of worrying about the future or the past,” I said. Then, moved my rook forward. “Check.”
His queen killed my rook. And now his queen was across from my king.
“Check.”
I’d been waiting for this. I killed his queen with mine, and now his king was cornered. No one to come to his rescue. Nowhere to move. He’d not even moved the line of the furthest pawns behind which the king hid. What an amateur mistake.