Repaying the Mafia’s Dept

AnthonyCopyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

Rigs, Vince’s giant ass lab, is lying pathetically on the floor begging. He’s a good-looking dog. I look to Vince and say, “See, told you the kids would ruin him. He’s a biscuit-begging mutt now.”

Vince shakes his head and my brother laughs, taking another drink of his beer. All the women are in the living room with the kids. Usually Rigs goes where the kids go, but we’re still in the dining room, and so is the food. Smart dog.

“He was so fucking good before the kids. You could drop a steak a foot from his face and he wouldn’t move,” Vince jokes, and we all have a laugh even though he’s shaking his head.

“God, the kids. Cockblocking and dog ruining,” Tommy says with his hands over his eyes. He’s worn the fuck out with the little ones. But he still says it with a smile.

“Gotta love ’em though,” Vince answers.

“I need another beer,” Tommy says with a touch of humor.

“Grab me one, too?” I ask him. He gives me a nod and heads out. Vince gets up from his seat to pour more Jack in his glass.

As soon as no one’s looking, I give the dog the last meatball from my plate. He swallows it down so fucking fast there’s no way he even tasted it. I chuckle at him and watch him lift his head up higher so he can see what’s left up here. Greedy ass dog.

Vince takes the head seat again and leans back with his glass at his lips. When he looks at me this time, there’s tension surrounding us. I know what it’s about, too. I’ve been waiting for it.

“We gotta talk, Anthony,” he says.

Tommy makes his way back with the beers and passes me one. I don’t want him in here for this though. I don’t want him to know about Catherine. She’s my secret. She’s mine. I wish even Vince didn’t know. It kills me that he does. Even worse is that I know he doesn’t understand.

“Hey, bro, could you give us a minute?” I ask Tommy as I pop the cap off my beer. He looks between me and Vince with a touch of confusion, but nods his head with a bit of a frown.

“Everything good?” he asks. He’s always worrying about me. He always has.

Vince and I both nod as I answer, “Yeah, I just need a minute.”

“Suit yourselves,” he says, grabbing a bun off the table. He whistles at Rigs and the dog bounds off after him, wagging his tail.

“You need to take care of her,” Vince says the second Tommy’s out of earshot.

“See the thing is, I am taking care of her, Vince. We had a deal.” I put my beer down and lock eyes with him. “I paid, and she’s mine.”

“They seem to think otherwise.” He says the words as though them backing out is acceptable.

“That’s their fault. They made an assumption. They were wrong.”

“They give us almost thirty percent of the income from the hits, Anthony. Your income. You really wanna piss them off?” he asks.

“I couldn’t give two fucks about them, to be honest.” I say it with a hint of menace in my voice. I take another drink, trying to calm myself down.

Vince looks at me with hesitation. “What’s gotten into you? You aren’t usually like this.”

“Like what? Stubborn? Opinionated?” I ask. I know I’m pushing my boundaries. But I don’t care. I’m always on the outside with them. I have been for most of my life. I never ask for anything. This is the first and only request I’ve ever made.

“Look, I know you have your issues and all.” He talks in a hushed tone, and I fucking hate it. I hate how the entire family feels sympathy for me because of that shit with my mother. They talk about it behind my back. I know they do. But they fucking fear me, too. I’d rather have the fear than the sympathy any fucking day.

“My issues?” I ask, putting the beer down on the table and staring back at Vince like he’s going to have to spell it out.

I look back at him, and suddenly he’s not the Don. He’s one of the boys huddled around the broken, bloodied dumb fuck we were supposed to teach a lesson.

They all stare back at me. I can feel their eyes on me as I breathe heavily and try to calm myself. My shaking fists are dripping with his blood. He had it coming to him. They all know I’m fucked up. He should’ve known better than to push me.

“You alright, Anthony?” Tommy lays an unsteady hand on my shoulder. I look up at him and past him to see the other guys. They look nervous as fuck. Like they could be next. I’m not a savage. I can contain this. I do contain it. Every fucking day.

“Good job, Anthony.” Vince says as he looks between the dead fuck and me. “Pops is gonna be proud.” He says the words, but there’s more to it than that. I don’t know if it’s jealousy, or if he hates that he fears me.

That day I decided not to give a fuck about any of them. All of them except for Tommy. Tommy’s all I have.

That was the day they started giving me a little more space than normal. I had to push my humor onto them to loosen them up. But it wasn’t quite the same. Not with us doing jobs together. Thank fuck for Uncle Dante. He gave me the hits and the other shit I could do on my own. It was a release for me, but more than that, it saved me from being the social pariah. I always knew they felt that way about me. But having Vince say the words… fuck, it hurts to know it’s true.

“You know what I mean, Anthony.” He straightens his back and meets my gaze head on. I have to hand it to him, he deserves to be boss. But I can fucking smell his fear from here.

“I bought her, and now she’s mine. That’s what happened. End of story,” I say flatly.

“It’s not the end. You also agreed to one month, and that’s what they were told,” he says.

“I didn’t–” I start to answer, but he cuts me off.

“You did.” He says the words with finality. I never should’ve said it was his call. It pisses me off. I shouldn’t have trusted him. It wasn’t his decision to make.

“I have work to do, and I need to get home to check on her before bed.”

“Check on her?” he grunts a humorless laugh and it takes everything in me not to plant a fist on his jaw. I can hear Aunt Linda in the kitchen and the kids playing not twenty feet from us. I clench my fists at my side, but hold back. I finish the beer and grab my keys off the table.

Checking on her is my job. This isn’t about getting laid, it’s not about fucking her or using her, or demeaning her. That’s not what I want. This is more than that. It’s deeper than Vince could possibly know. It’s about having someone need me. And she does, whether Vince likes it or not.

“I mean it, Anthony,” he says to my back.

I don’t answer him. I still have time with her. It may be best that I don’t get too attached though. I close my eyes as I open the door and step out into the night.

The cold air whips against my skin. She’s in a cell for trying to get away from me, for fuck’s sake. I shake my head and feel torn. I thought this would be perfect, but it’s not.

I’m just damaged goods. That’s all I am.

Perfection doesn’t exist. Neither do fantasies.