168

Christian brings me back to the house on his ATV. I don’t say a word to him the whole time. When we get to my room, I let myself in, and tell him I wanted to talk to his father. He nods, and leaves, locking me in.

Bunch of lying assholes!

It’s one thing after the next with them. I can’t figure out whether they’re using me or if they want to help me.

I spent sixteen years grinding my teeth in my sleep, having the same nightmare—half that time with shrinks and social workers telling me it was all in my mind…and halfthattime renting out my pussy for room and board to men like Jax Sotherby.

Now, in just over twenty-four hours, I’ve been told it’s all real. I’m not who I thought I was…and more importantly, nothing has been done to avenge the deaths of my family members.

How could that cop and paramedic think they were doing me a favor by putting me in a fucking orphanage?!

I want to tear someone’s head off—I want to start with Vincent Bernardo!

They all think they’re so tough. WhatI’vebeen through in the last sixteen years makes their lives look like a Saturday morning cartoon.

Fuck the lot of them!

Mikey…my brother. Nothing can make me forget him. He was the one who always looked after me.No matter what was going on, he was always there.

They took him from me!

I pace the length of the room for what seems like hours. I wonder about my life. I wonder what might’ve been. I think about my mother, my father, Mikey and Daniel.

I wonderwhyChristian told me what he did. His father couldn’t have wanted me knowing that information about theCassa—fuckin—duchis.

I think about how I hit that target seven times when I’ve never used a gun before.

I’ve spent a lifetime trying to convince myself that I was wrong about everything, that the itch inside my brain telling me I was someone else, wasn’t real…and now…now…

Knock, knock, knock.

“Come,” I yell.

The door opens and the Don sticks his head in, “You accept your guests like a queen.” He steps inside with a half-smile and closes the door.

He’s in a dark-green suit and looks much like he did yesterday, perhaps a bit more worried or tired.It’s the frown lines.

My anger bubbles to the surface. Before I know it, I’m pointing at him and saying, “You have a lot of explaining to do, Vincent!”

“Yes,” he nods solemnly, “I do. May we sit?”

I throw my hands in the air. I’m inhishouse—It’s not like he needs permission.

He goes to a low cupboard under the television that I hadn’t noticed before, takes out a tray with glasses and whiskey, then brings them to the table on the balcony.

We sit down in the glow of dusk and the waxing moon while the Don pours us each a double. I leave mine where it is—I don’t want a repeat of last night.

He leans back in his chair, “Chelsea, Christian told me what happened. He wasn’t meant to say those things to you.”

Chelsea.I still can’t get used to that. “Well I’m gladsomeonedid. You lied to me. You told me it had been dealt with. You were supposed to be my father’s best friend and you just let this slide?”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“FUCK COMPLICATED!”I slam my hand on the table and the glasses bounce. I don’t know where I’m getting the courage from, but rage is better than despair.

The Don looks at me like I’m acting like a spoiled child. “Let me explain.”

I gesture with my hand for him to continue.

“If I had known you were still alive, things may have been different.”

“Really? How? How would a five-year-old girl have made that much of a difference to you?” The way I’m talking down to him, you’d think he was the manager of a Burger King…not the head of a crime family.

“The Cassaduchi family is one of the three families in New York,” he gets a frown like he’s about to give me bad news, “at that time they wanted to engage in certain business practices that your father did not approve of.”

“Which were?”

“Drugs. Drugs are federal, but they yield a big profit. It can be a stable business if it’s done correctly. However, your father’sstance was that this family would never engage in activities that would draw federal attention.”

“Sounds like a smart guy.”

He nods. “He also said that drugs poisoned the community and was the quickest way to land in prison.”

“What does this have to do with the Cassian?”

He takes a big sip of his scotch and waits for me to do the same.

I stare back at him, “Get on with it please. You’re beating around the bush.”

He pulls out a cigar from his pocket and takes his time opening it, clipping the tip, smelling it, before lighting it with a mini flamethrower. It probably takes two minutes.

It’s a polite demonstration of who’s in charge. I’ve overstepped.I know I have.

He puffs out a cloud, “You’d think someone in your position would show more respect.”

The middle ground here is to not say anything. I’m not going to apologize, but I’ll try to keep a cool head.

He examines the cigar carefully before going on. “This city was carved into pieces a long time ago. Boundaries that, up until what happened with your father, had been maintained for decades.”

I nod. He’s being cordial. I’ll take my cue from him.

“This family—your father’s family—controlled certain territories. We still do.”

“What do you mean—controlled certain territories?”

He looks at me shrewdly, “Do you understand howour thingworks?”

“You’re criminals?”

He smiles, “No,” and shakes his head. “The government is an organization. You pay them taxes for services,” he explains withhis hands. “They are only legitimate because mass consensus deems it so.Theysteal more than anybody.Theyare criminals.”

“Okay,” I humor him.

“But there are certain things they cannot do, which we can. Our territories pay us for certain services. Protection, for instance.”

“Protection from what?”

“Gangs, unsavory elements…many things. We administer a justice that the government cannot provide. There will always be crime. We simply control that crime in an organized way so that the people are not hurt by it.”

“Hmm.”

“Mayors, governors, presidents…they all pilfer your tax money and use it for their own ends. They do favors for their friends and award them contracts. Those friends overbill…underdeliver…all this is crime.”

“I see.”I never thought about it that way.

“The common people respect us in a way they don’t respect the police and the politicians. We can keep them in line with both respectandfear…because people do notfearthe police. The police have rules. Do you understand?”

“I think so.”

“This is how it was done in the old country. When the Italian American community began to grow here, we brought the old ways with us. We look after our own. You see?”

“I do.”I’m getting the Mafia 101 here.It does make sense though.

“Now, in the same way the government makes money from taxes so they can keep their power, we need sources of revenue too. People will always want booze, gambling, women…things like this.”

“Women?”

“Sex for money is the oldest profession in the world,” he puffs out a cloud of smoke, “look it up on your phone. This is another thing that we can control, so the girls work, but are not hurt or abused in any way. We also ensure they can ply their trade without interference from the police.”

I nod. This is all making a lot more sense than I thought it would.

“Now, we are always looking for new sources of revenue, like any business would. It’s how you grow.”

“I understand.”

“The Cassian chose drugs, but the routes they needed to make their operation feasible lay on our territory. They sat down with us and tried to negotiate.” He puts the cigar down on an ashtray. “Your father would not have it.”

“You mean he told them—No?”

“Yes,” he nods gravely, “as his consiglieri—his council—I advised him we should try to reach some sort of compromise. His answer was that there was no compromise to make. He said cocaine and heroin would destroy the communities we protect.”

“Well he was right!”

He puts his hand up to stop me, “Furthermore, ceding the territory would redraw the lines for the first time in decades. He felt that to capitulate would have been a sign of weakness. He was confident the Cassian would not risk war over this.”

“And?” There’s a pregnant pause.

“He was wrong,” the Don says with both his hands out.

Now a feeling of dread consumes me. “And what happened?”

“Youknowwhat happened.” He knocks back his scotch and pours himself another.

They killed my whole family! That’s what happened…you old fuck!I hold my tongue, I don’t say those words, but ask, “Why didn’t you do anything? Why didn’t you retaliate?”

“Chelsea, it was the most difficult decision I’ve ever had to make. I chose to redraw the lines and keep the peace.”

I explode, “BUT THEY KILLED MY FAMILY!” I find myself on my feet, pacing the length of the balcony, “How could you let them get away with that?”

I get to the railing and look up at the stars. I wonder if they’re up there somewhere, looking down on this travesty.

The Don is suddenly there with a hand on my shoulder, “I did what I did to protect my own family, Chelsea. As far as I knew, there were no Lombardos left. No good would have come from retaliation. Both families would have been destroyed. Don’t you see that?”

“But they struck first and you didn’t do anything about it!” I feel tears coming and fight them back, “You just laid down like a coward! Did you at least try to make things even?”

He turns me with his hands on my shoulders and a stern glare, “I saved lives! Would you have had me sacrifice my own sons to honor a memory?”

“I would have had you stand your ground and be a man!”

The Don shakes his head and steps away. “Iwouldask—Who the hell you think you are to speak to me this way?But, you are your father’s daughter.”

“All this time…” I’m almost lost for words. “Let me guess—you’ve been making one concession after the next because they know you don’t have the balls to hit them back.”

He grimaces with what looks like shame.

“Our territory must be next to nothing by now! My father’s legacy, his rules, his ethics, his desire to protect his people…all for nothing!”

“What would you have me do, Chelsea?” The Don sounds exasperated. That’s because he’s weak!

“I don’t care whatyoudo, but I know what I’m going to do.”

“What?”

“I’m going to take them down. I’m going to put things right. I’m going to redraw the lines.” I turn my back to him. He’s a coward. If I have to do it on my own…so be it. For my father. For Mikey.

“Chelsea, what you’re proposing will mean all-out war. Nothing good ever comes from revenge.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

He steps away and takes a breath. We’re both quiet for a moment. He turns back and comes to me, placing his hands on my shoulders once more.

“Chelsea, when the time is right, I may be in a position to give you what you want, but that time is not now. I need you to trust me.”

“You haven’t given me one reason to trust you, but youhavegiven me every reason not to.” I pull away from him. “You’re aliar!”

“As a gesture of good faith, for you to trust me, I will trust you. You may come and go as you please. If you choose to stay, then I will give you what you ask…but only when the time is right. Will you trust me, Chelsea?”

I consider my answer for a moment before I lie too, “Yes.”

I have to bide my time…for now.