by Ivy Fox
Hoping alcohol can salvage this crappy night, I head out to the club to drink my sorrows away. Of course, I’m not one tequila shot in when I feel Dom nudge my shoulder, then seat on the stool at my side.
“You look like shit,” he taunts with an amused grin.
“Feel like it, too,” I smirk, throwing him a glance. Look who’s talking. “Can’t say you look any better either.” He shrugs and orders us another four shots of Patrón. “See, you and I have the same mindset tonight.”
“What can I say? Misery loves company,” he mumbles, taking his two shots, one after the other. I wave to the bartender and ask for him to leave the bottle. It’s setting up to be one of those nights.
“You talk to Vince?” I ask him while refilling his two shot glasses to the rim.
“Yeah,” he mumbles, taking both shots back to back again.
“He give you the same speech on letting our family go, like he did to me?” I question as I give him another refill.
“Not in those words, but I got the gist,” he replies, this time brooding over his alcohol instead of plunging it down his throat.
“It ain’t right, Dom. He’s making a mistake,” I venture, finally letting the liquid burn down my own gullet.
“Is he though? I mean, Selene sacrificed herself for us. Made sure we were alive and breathing. Why can’t we give her the life she always dreamed about? You saw the same thing I did when we went back to Nashville to clean up the whole dead-husband mess. Selene and Jude have spent the last decade living as normals; cute house filled with joyous memories plastered on every wall, with a damned backyard for Sunday lunches and even neighbors that give a shit. A far fucking cry from the way we grew up. They’ll be way happier there than here. They’ll have a much better life.”
“No, they won’t, because we aren’t in it! Dom, listen to me. None of us can be happy without each other. That is a fact, brother. Why should we put ourselves through this anguish when we can all be together at last? Nothing is stopping us. Only Vincent,” I holler aggravated.
“That’s not true. As long as we live by the syndicate rule, our lives will never be our own. Do you really want to bring Selene and Jude into the famiglia fold again? Would you be the one to hand the knife to Jude on his twelfth birthday so he can make his first kill as part of his initiation? Do you want him to have the same blood on his hands as we do? And can you honestly live with yourself, having Selene watch, helpless once more, as the most important person in her life sells a piece of his soul to an establishment that never protected her? How wrong is Vincent in wanting to save the woman he loves from any further pain the syndicate can inflict while shielding his son’s innocence against our way of life? Tell me, Giovanni, just how wrong is Vincent?” Dom rants, his eyes full of the same reprimand his lips were so successful in spilling.
“Shit,” I mumble, resting my forehead on the counter.
“That’s what I thought, asshole,” Dom sighs, patting my back in solidarity. I lift my head just a tad and give my beast of a friend a pleading look.
“There must be something we can do,” I murmur.
“Right now all we can do is to concentrate on business. Ciro’s attempted coup has left a bitter taste in the mouth of every capo in Chicago. And I didn’t like seeing so many good made men on his side, either. Makes it harder to know who to trust and all.”
“We can only trust ourselves.” I slump back in my seat, playing with the tequila shot in my hands.
“Ain’t that the truth? Salute,” he belts, tapping my glass with his own, before drinking his shot and shoving mine down my throat. The burn is not as overpowering as the loose thoughts in my head, begging to take shape. Dom’s words start to trigger a plan in my mind, one that just might be the answer to all our problems.
“You notice how there was a lot of new blood under Ciro’s wing?”
“I did, and I didn’t like it,” he slurs, discontent.
“Yeah. Me neither. Thankfully we got all the treacherous bastards who were in cahoots with him, but I wonder if others didn’t feel a bit envious for not having switched sides in time to give Ciro a better advantage,” I relent, thinking out loud.
“What are you saying? You think someone else might make the same play against Vincent?”
“No, I’m saying what I’ve always said; the Outfit is an outdated institution, and it’s time for a change—one that will benefit us all,” I start to smile, the pieces fitting perfectly together in my mind’s eye.
“You’re kind of freaking me out with that Joker grin you’ve got going, Gio,” Dom interjects, his brows pressed together as he fingers through his beard.
I laugh from my belly, pure elation bubbling through my veins, and slap Dom on his shoulder, slamming my last drink in one big gulp.
“Come on, big guy. We’ve got to have a talk with Vincent, and then we are going to call a huge fucking meeting back at the Romano estate.”
“It’s almost midnight, Gio. Those old fuckers must be mid-snore by now.”
“Well, it’s time they wake the fuck up. And I’m happy to be the one to give them the wakeup call of a lifetime.”
Dominic and I stand on each side of a sitting Vincent, as every high-ranking capo takes their respective places around the table. With scowls and furrowed brows, they do as they are told but shift nervously in their seats; their beady eyes focused on the three items that are placed in front of them. Legal papers with their names on it, as well as their respective syndicate businesses, are placed face down on the table, with a pen on one side and a gun on the other. Once all of them have settled, I stroll to the back of the room and open the door to our other guests. As instructed, these younger made men take a spot behind each elder, demonstrating the same curiosity to tonight’s summoning. Once all the players are in their assigned positions, I walk to my original post, besides the capo dei capi, ready for him to do what he excels at—striking fear in the hearts of the unworthy while inspiring respect and loyalty from the honorable.
“Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” Vincent begins, even though their non-attendance was never a choice, even if it is three am and past some of these assholes’ bedtime. “These past few months this syndicate has gone through some major changes. We have made an alliance with the Calabrian family in Canada and retained the use of their casinos. The new friendships made with the Irish in Boston against the Cosa Nostra also proved to be rewarding. And of course, the demise of two traitors to our cause—Ciro LaSpina, and Silvio Bianchi. We have endured much change, but I’m here to tell you all, that this is only the beginning.”
“What type of changes are we talking about, Vincent?” questions one of the more pathetic, older leeches, who is far past his prime in the Outfit. I smirk at the general to his back, showcasing the same question in his eyes.
“The type that will revolutionize this syndicate forever. You see, when I took over as boss, I envisioned making the Outfit greater than it was. I thought that by obtaining new territory, such as New York, and gaining new alliances would get us all to the place we aspired to be. But I was wrong. How can we ever grow, when we fester and struggle with the current flaws of our syndicate laws? I lost sight of my true desires, but thankfully I was reminded of what they are and always have been,” Vincent announces, throwing me a glance of gratitude.
“Vincent, maybe it’s because of the ungodly hour you summoned us here, but I must say, I’m having a hard time following,” the old fart interjects.
Vincent’s cold glare sent in his direction is enough for the fucker to thin his lips and keep his mouth shut.
“First things first. Can I please ask the men standing to pick up the guns from the table?” With confused expressions, each young capo does as Vincent instructs. “Thank you. Now, gentlemen, what I’m proposing is not the revolution I had initially planned, but rather an evolution within the Outfit—a rectification long in the making. Please turn over and read the pages in front of yo
u. There you will find contracts transferring control of all your business to the man behind you, relieving you of your Outfit duties. You will be awarded a small percentage of the profits so that you may keep your lavish lifestyles. But not a penny more will line your pockets from this day forth. Your crew and title will no longer be yours, as that, too, will pass to the capo standing behind you. This, gentlemen, is your retirement package. I thank you for the years you served empowering this institution, but your services will no longer be needed.”
The outraged commotion that follows, the gasps and pleas, is like music to my fucking ears. I might have come up with the idea, but Vincent’s follow-through is a thing of greatness. A true born leader determined to send this famiglia into a new era—one that I can’t wait to take advantage of. Vincent raises his hand to stop all further wailing from the greedy, ancient bastards and looks at each seated capo with brimstone in his gaze.
“You have all been given a choice. You can either use the pen to your right, to sign on the dotted line, or the eager capo at your back will be using the gun to end your miserable lives. One way or the other, your time with the Outfit is through. Pick your poison, gentlemen. I’ll wait.”
Vincent crosses his arms over his chest, watching each man slowly pick up the pen provided to them, to avoid the bullet to the back of their heads, as he so eloquently promised.
Half of my elaborate plan is fulfilled.
Once the elders are escorted out of the Romano estate, defeated, a new found electricity is buzzing in the air. The new heads at the table are young, ruthless, and most importantly, loyal to a fault. It took Vincent and me hours to select these specific made men. Not only were they hungry to thrive within the Outfit, but they also resented some of its laws—ones that we were all about to change.
Our honor and code to the syndicate will now reflect our own moralities, and in doing so, not only will we able to progress and evolve the Outfit into the new century, but will also lay out the footwork to get what we three have always yearned for.
Once the new capos leave, after all excitedly agreeing to the new terms, I slap my open palms on the table, with a Cheshire Cat grin on my face and hope in my heart.
“Well boys, now that that’s sorted, how about we get our girl back?”
TWENTY-FIVE
Selene
I kneel before the lush, green ground, with two side-by-side headstones at the center. On one rests Lori Lewis, the woman who lent me such a heroic protector for a spell. On the other, rests James, the man who loved her to his very end and my best friend. I place a bouquet of daisies on each grave, hoping they feel my gratitude from beyond their final resting place.
“Hi, Handsome,” I greet my departed friend. “How have you been? I have to say; the world is duller without you around. I miss your face, your laugh, and your friendship. But I have to be honest, I miss your country fried steak and collard greens, too. Jude says I can’t pull your recipe off, no matter how hard I try.” I laugh softly. “He misses you, too. We both miss you so much, James.”
I sigh, looking up at the heavens and thinking about all the people who are no longer here. The absence of James and my mother in my life—at a time that it fell unceremoniously apart —has been a daunting experience to overcome. I wish I could have just one more hug, another loving word with them, even if only for a minute. But a part of me knows they are now in a far better place than I am, and I should seek comfort in that.
I turn to face Lori, a woman who I never had the pleasure to meet, but was a permanent fixture of my days while I lived with James.
“Take care of him Lori, and thank you for lending me your husband to help me through the worst of it all. I couldn’t have done it without him. Which I’m sure you know since he’s a talker and probably told you already what you had missed in the last years of his life. He’s a good man. One of the best I was ever fortunate enough to meet. And I know he’s at peace now that he’s by your side, the place where he always belonged. Thank you. To both of you. I’ll never forget your kindness,” I confess, and wipe the shimmering tears threatening to break loose.
I get up from my kneeled form and kiss my palm, before placing it on James’ granite stone. There were so many vile events that molded me into the woman I am today, but I’m thankful that my path somehow brought James into my life. It gives me faith to know that there is still goodness in the world—a fact I was reluctant to acknowledge until I experienced his selfless kindness. I just wish I hadn’t been the catalyst for such a precious life to be snuffed from this world.
I walk toward the cemetery gates, my chest still burdened with guilt, when I see the familiar silver Rolls Royce Phantom parked right at its entrance. Leaning on the flashy car, are the three men who hold my heart in their hands and taught me how to love in the first place. My sorrow intensifies as I take each step closer to the ones I love most, but can never have.
“You boys were never ones to be discreet,” I mock, feigning annoyance at their obvious demeanor, and desperately trying to hide my misery in such taunting words.
“Discretion is overrated.” Gio winks. “And we haven’t been boys in a while, principessa.”
“No, you haven’t, have you?” I pull at my lower lip, taking in each of my rotten man’s handsome attributes. But my wandering eyes only torture me further. If I can’t have them, then why give my frail heart more painful ammo by taking in each perfect feature? “How did you find me?” I ask, willing to deflect my troubled thoughts to the mundane.
“Jude,” Vincent replies, the name of our son so softly spoken, reminiscent of the feel of rose petals.
“You didn’t have to come all this way to see me. You could have just called,” I add evenly, not wanting any of my men to see how this unexpected visit is bittersweet to my fragile heart.
“Some things can’t be said over the phone, Red,” Dom interjects, his angel-like features so much more prominent in such a somber environment. “I see you went back to your crimson roots, babe. About time if you ask me.” He smiles, admiring my long, red locks.
“I thought it’s only fitting since I don’t have to hide anymore,” I reply, looking at the asphalt instead of meeting their appreciative gazes.
“You don’t have to hide anymore. It’s time for you came home,” Gio announces, eating up the space between us and lifting my chin to face his joyful, chocolate-brown eyes.
I furrow my brow, my heart breaking for having to cause them any more pain by rejecting them once more. But before I’m able to list all the reasons why the return to my birthplace is impossible, a determined Vincent picks up my hand and places a kiss on my wrist. His smile is so bright that it knocks the wind out of me. I have never seen such hope in his hazel eyes, nor such an ethereal grin on his lips.
“There have been some changes back in Chicago,” he adds proudly.
“Changes?” I stutter, when Dom begins to run his fingers through my hair. I’m enveloped in their loving triangle, and I’m having a hard time breathing with the abundance of love surrounding me.
“Yes. A reconstruction, if you will.” Gio laughs out with his cocky grin playing on his lips.
“What type of reconstruction?” I stutter, trying to cut the winds of hope flying in my soul.
“The type where the things you endured as a child will never be tolerated again,” Vincent states assuredly.
“But… how?”
“Vincent laid the law down on those old fuckers that wanted to keep their hold and power in the syndicate. Once they had their walking papers, we appointed new capos who shared our views on how the Outfit should proceed from now on,” Dominic adds.
“Good made men who will no longer tolerate the syndicate turning a blind eye on our so-called brothers who knock their wives and kids around. Instead, our new code will protect the defenseless and any man who even touches their kin will be punished with an iron fist,” Gio continues with a toothy grin, never once ceasing to caress my heated cheeks
. “Young boys having to learn how to shoot a stronzo as part of their initiation is now forbidden, too. From now on, only the willing can enter the Outfit. The syndicate will only initiate men who are legally able to consent to a mobbed-up life. And no principessa will ever again suffer the cruelty of an arranged marriage, as this has been abolished as well. A girl can now marry whomever she fucking pleases, instead of being forced to be with someone that lines her daddy’s pockets.”
“Oh my God. I can’t believe you did it,” I sob, my joyful tears bursting out at facing such a myriad of glorious emotions.
“We did that and so much more. Not only was it the right thing to do, but also because we wanted to make a home where you and Jude are safe. We love you, Selene. We love Jude. And if we need to move mountains to ensure both of your happiness, then the three of us will do whatever is necessary to get it done,” Vincent declares, his own eyes tinged with unshed tears.
My body starts to tremble with relief and overwhelming joy. My knees give way from under me, but my men hold me up, with their loving embrace and promises of a future I never let myself once dream possible. My lips become swollen with all their devotion, and I return each kiss with fevered promises of my own.
We ignore the passing mourners and continue to laugh and cry, kiss and touch, hungry for this new life to commence. We let them gawk at our four wretched souls, which are entwined and stitched together from all the turmoil and upheavals we had to overcome. But what these strangers do not realize is the miracle they are witnessing—the rebirth of a true love that no one can ever destroy.
Days of suffering and sacrifice are buried to the ground, and the doors of a new awe-inspiring life are begging to be opened. I do not want to wait for a second longer to walk through them and begin my new fate.