The Game Changer

by Scott Hildreth

  “I want a maid of honor, and four bridesmaids. So, you’re going to need a best man and four groomsmen.”

  “Cap, Lucky, Trace and your brother. And, I don’t know. Truthfully, I’ll probably ask Sal. We’ve got pretty close here lately.”

  “Oh,” she gasped. “I almost forgot. Do you know Michelle’s dad? Not know him, but have you met him?”

  “Your Michelle? Cap’s girl?”

  She nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  I found it odd that she’d ask, and wondered how she thought I’d know Michelle’s father. “I have no idea who he is, why?”

  “I just thought you might have seen him around. He’s over at the house all the time. You know, he’s a ‘business associate’ or whatever.”

  I shrugged. “What’s his name?”

  “Gino.”

  Oh fuck.

  My heart stopped.

  I stared back at her open-mouthed for an instant, and then tried to mask my emotion by faking a sneeze.

  I stood up, raised my hands to my face and sneezed.

  “Bless you.”

  I met her gaze. “Oh, Gino. I’ve met him, yeah. I had no idea it was her dad, though.”

  “Have you seen him lately?”

  My stomach knotted. “No, why?”

  “He just kind of disappeared and she was wondering if I knew anything. I said I’d ask.”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t seen him in a while. Maybe a week.”

  “Well, if you see him or hear anything, let me know. She’s worried.”

  “I will,” I said.

  Knowing that Gino was Michelle’s father made me feel sick. I was sure my discomfort, however, was going to be nothing compared to how Cap felt when he found out.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Terra

  Michael’s participation in the “family business,” combined with my father’s acceptance of him as my soon-to-be husband, forced me to admit—and accept—that Michael was involved in what I had spent a lifetime denying even existed.

  The door was open, but I knocked on the wooden trim to get my dad’s attention. “Hello?”

  He glanced at me, removed his glasses and then looked them over. “These glasses. I put them on, I can see the computer. I look up, I can’t see anything. I put them on, I take them off. I can see, I can’t see. Too close, too far. Nothing’s where I can see it.”

  I chuckled. “You’re getting old.”

  He tossed the glasses to the side. “They’re for reading. You mother bought them at the Walgreens. I wear them for her. It makes her happy.” He shook his head and let out a sigh. “We make sacrifices for those we love.”

  I smiled. “Are you busy?”

  “Never too busy for my daughter,” he said.

  “I just wanted to talk. Things have been so crazy lately, and I finally feel like I’m caught up on everything. Well, kind of.”

  “Sit.”

  I sat down across from him and relaxed into the leather chair. “Have you got time to talk?”

  “I’ve got until your mother gets home, and then there’s only time to listen,” he said with a smile. “That woman...”

  “Well. I don’t really need anything, I just wanted to tell you some things.”

  He pushed his chair away from the desk and turned up his palms. “So, tell me.”

  Michelle had been right when she gave me her little speech about admitting what it was that Michael—and my father—were involved in. And, as odd as it seemed to be admitting it, I was proud that Michael and my father were becoming close—even if it was their work that was bringing them together.

  “I want you to know that I’m glad you and Michael are getting along so well.”

  “He’s a good man,” he said with a slight nod. “He makes me proud.”

  “When I met him, I didn’t know what he did. You know, the guns. And when I found out, I got so mad—”

  “He sells guns.” He shrugged. “You can buy guns at the Walmarts.”

  “I know. What I was saying, or what I was trying to say, was that I think I was acting madder about it than I really was. I don’t know how to explain it. I overreacted. And I think I did it because of you.”

  His brow wrinkled. “What did I do?”

  In any relationship, sacrifices must be made for them to succeed. My inner admission of the truth about my father, I suppose, was mine. I inhaled a deep breath, and then let it out. It wasn’t a topic that we’d ever discussed, and I knew it was something he wouldn’t want to talk about.

  But it was necessary.

  “You’re the mafia boss,” I said. “The godfather of the mob. Whatever you want to—”

  “The mob.” He chuckled. “There’s no mob. The news, they say things. I’ve got a business. We make deliveries.”

  “Papa...”

  He shrugged.

  “Okay. Whatever you want to call it. But I’ve never liked it. Actually, I’ve kind of always wished that you did something different, so I think I told myself that you didn’t do what you do.”

  He shrugged. “I do nothing.”

  I laughed. “Well, I’m glad that you and Michael do nothing together. And it makes me happy that you two get along. And, for what it’s worth, I’ve accepted what it is that you do, and what Michael does, even if neither of you will admit it.”

  “You came here to tell me this?”

  It wasn’t as easy as he probably thought. I swallowed hard, and then smiled and nodded. “Yes. And it wasn’t easy.”

  “You’re growing up. You’re going to be a woman, get married, have a family—”

  “I am a woman.”

  He shook his head, grinned and then walked around the edge of the desk. As he opened his arms, I stood.

  “You’re my little girl,” he said as he took me into his arms. “Until June. And then? Then, I will give you away to the man who I am proud to call my son.”

  A rush of emotion ran through me. Hearing him say those words hit me right in the heart. I swallowed the lump that had risen into my throat and looked him in the eyes.

  “And you’re the man,” I said, “that he’ll be proud to call his father.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Michael

  I swallowed my food, wiped my mouth and answered his question. “It’s a lot like being in the Corps.”

  “I can see that,” Cap said. “All the action a motherfucker wants, and you get paid on top of it. That’s why I joined the Corps, to tell ya the truth. Nothing like getting’ paid to get rid of the bad guys.”

  “Same thing here, but the money’s better,” I said. “You’ll move up quick. Before you know it, you’ll have your own racket, and you’ll be earning big.”

  He waived at the waitress. “Can you bring me another burger?”

  “Everything on it?”

  “Just like the last one,” he said. “And two more beers.”

  “Okay.” She smiled and turned away.

  He glanced at his empty plate, and then looked at me. “Half-pounder, my ass.”

  “Burned too many calories fucking last night, didn’t you?”

  “That, and working out this morning. I’m fucking starving.” He glanced over each shoulder, and upon being satisfied no one was listening, looked at me. “And as long as a motherfucker ain’t a snitch, he ain’t got nothin’ to worry about, huh?”

  “You take an oath. Basically, you agree if you ever do snitch, you sacrifice your life.”

  “Well, I ain’t a snitch. Again, just like being in the Corps. What’d they tell us if we were taken prisoner? Name, rank and number. Nothing else. Even if we’re tortured.”

  “Agrioli was going to do a life sentence before he said a word to the
cops. For a crime he had nothing to do with.”

  “Everything’s a fucking secret with them, huh?”

  “It’s best that way,” I said. “Nobody talks about anything to anyone. Hell, the mob doesn’t even exist.”

  “And you’re sure they’re going to accept me?”

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  “Since when does the mob have a fuckin’ associate go recruit for ‘em?”

  “Capo.”

  “I don’t see no capo. You got someone in your pocket?” he asked. “Ain’t nobody here but a starving idiot and an associate of the mob.”

  “I’m a capo.”

  He wrinkled his brow and stared.

  I nodded.

  “Get the fuck outta here.” He slapped his hand against the table. “You’re a captain?”

  I nodded.

  “Goddamn, that didn’t take long.”

  “Pretty satisfied with my performance, I guess. Hell, I think I got credit for whacking that Wesley fucker.”

  “You know I didn’t do what I did the other night because I wanted recognition. I did it because that Gino motherfucker was a piece of shit. Hell, he woulda taken you, me, Agrioli...everybody down for, what did you say? Twenty grand?”

  I nodded. “You’re right, he was a piece of shit.”

  I wanted to tell him who Gino was, but continued to struggle with whether I should do it before he took the oath, or after. As I sat and struggled with what to do, I realized oath or not, it didn’t change who Cap was.

  I either trusted him, or I didn’t.

  And I trusted Cap with my life.

  “I need to tell you something. Something pretty devastating.”

  “You know me. You got something to say, spit it out. Ain’t never believed in beatin’ around the bush, brother.”

  I took a deep breath and then leaned forward. It wasn’t going to be easy, but I had to do it, regardless. “The boss, Sal, four captains and roughly twenty soldiers. That’s what this family consists of. Or, did consist of.”

  “Bigger’n I thought.”

  “As tight-lipped as everyone is, hell, there’s no way to know who’s who. You know, what their real names are. They’ve all got nicknames anyway—”

  “Jimmy fuckin’ Cupcake.” He chuckled. “I’d beat a fucker’s ass if I got a nickname like that. So, what’s devastating about any of this?”

  “Gino. The snitch?”

  “What about him?” He chuckled lightly. “Don’t tell me, he’s got seven kids and no wife, and they’ve all got to go to the orphanage?”

  I paused for a moment. If for nothing else, for him to understand the seriousness of what I was about to say.

  He shook his head lightly. “You know I didn’t mean nothin’ by that orphanage comment, Tripp. I ain’t too politically correct most of the time. Sorry, brother.”

  “Gino?” I let out a sigh. “He was Michelle’s father.”

  He blinked a few times. “Michelle who?”

  “Your Michelle,” I said. “Gino was her father.”

  The muscles in his jaw flared, and his eyes went glazed. For some time, he stared back at me, blankly.

  “Here’s your burger and the beers,” the waitress said.

  Cap thanked her, and then stood. “Be back in a minute.”

  As he walked away, I gazed along the row of booths toward the door.

  I never enjoyed killing, and I was sure I never would, but my time in combat left me immune to the sensitivities associated with the act. Understanding that my line of work exposed me to people who may be willing to take my life—or the life of someone I loved—I lived my day-to-day life in the civilian world not much differently than I did in combat.

  The taking of a life was always a matter of survival.

  To learn the personal information about a victim prior to—or even after—killing them allowed the act to become just that: personal.

  Not allowing it to become personal was also a matter of survival.

  Cap’s hand on my shoulder brought me out of my semiconscious state.

  “Had to piss,” he said. “And do some thinkin’.”

  “I want you to know that I had no idea who he was until Terra told me he was missing. I put two and two together and just kind of figured it out,” I said. “And, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. Had I known, I would have asked someone else—”

  “Don’t second-guess yourself, Tripp. I don’t like what happened. Wouldn’t be human if I did. But I can’t second-guess a decision like that, or the next thing I know, I’ll be second-guessing one instead of pullin’ the trigger.”

  “Just know—”

  He raised his hand between us. “Here’s what I know. I know he took that oath you was talkin’ about. I know that. And I know he knew what was gonna happen if he got caught. And he got caught.”

  “I’m sure it’ll all sink in here in a day or two,” I said. “Just want you to know if you want to talk about it, I’m here for you.”

  “If he’s the kind of fucker that’ll rat out the boss for a crime he didn’t even commit, I don’t want any part of grieving over his death. Sorry, but like I said, I ain’t always politically correct.”

  He reached for his burger, took a bite and washed it down with a drink of beer. “And about that other thing. When was you wantin’ to do that?”

  I was completely lost.

  “What other thing?” I asked.

  “Gettin’ sworn in, or whatever?”

  “So, you want to do it?”

  “You think I’m gonna let you have all the fun?” He took another bite of his burger and then laughed. “Afraid not, Tripp. Afraid not.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Terra

  I’d never felt so beautiful in my life. I stepped across the platform and glanced in the mirror, not knowing what to expect.

  My reflection confirmed my feelings.

  I looked fabulous. I had no idea if how I felt was normal, but I had to fight to keep myself from crying. The dress—a ballgown style—fit me perfectly. Long, full and flowing, it looked exquisite.

  I turned a quarter of a turn and peered over my left shoulder.

  I looked even better

  “What do you think?”

  Silence.

  I raised my voice slightly. “I love it. What do you think?”

  Still nothing.

  I looked to my right. My mother stood at the edge of the platform with her hands covering her mouth and tears rolling down both cheeks.

  “It’s perfect,” she murmured.

  “Momma...”

  “You look beautiful,” she said.

  Seeing her was too much. I joined her, crying for no other reason than having had witnessed the definition of what beauty truly was: a bride in her wedding dress.

  Nothing could be more beautiful.

  I wiped my tears and shuffled to her side. “It’s only the first one. I want to try the others.”

  She didn’t stop crying, nor did she speak. She simply nodded like a child who had been asked if she wanted a second helping of ice cream.

  I lifted the dress and walked to the fitting room. A few minutes later, and I emerged wearing the backless mermaid-style long-sleeve dress.

  As soon as I stepped onto the platform, my mother gasped. “Semplicemente magnifico.”

  Simply magnificent.

  I looked in the mirror.

  She was right.

  I turned left. I turned to my right.

  I turned away and looked over my shoulder. Unlike the ball gown, I could actually see that I had an ass.

  And it looked semplicemente magnifico.

  With my eyes fixed on the mirror, I gave my op
inion. “I love it.”

  I turned to face my mother. Her head bobbed up and down.

  “What will Papa say?”

  She shrugged. “Who cares.”

  “Will he think it’s too...” I glanced in the mirror again. “Too tight?”

  “He has no fashion sense,” she said. “Who buys his suits?”

  I had no idea. “You?”

  She nodded. “I pick them out. He gets them fitted. And I buy his shoes. His shirts. His ties.”

  My father dressed in the most modern fashion, and always wore a modern fitted suit. I suspected he picked them out himself.

  “I think you should get this one. It fits you well.”

  “They’ll order it in my size.” I took another quick look in the mirror. “This one is a little too big.”

  “It fits your personality well,” she said. “It fits you.”

  I couldn’t agree more.

  Within an hour, I had tried the mermaid, column, ball, tea, trumpet, princess and empire dresses.

  My personal favorite was the mermaid.

  “Can I try it again?” I asked.

  “Certainly,” the saleswoman replied.

  “They don’t have prices. How much is this one?”

  “As configured,” she said. “Backless with the sleeves, it’s twenty-five thousand dollars. It’s a complete custom.”

  I smiled. “Thank you.”

  I tried it on again, walked onto the platform and did my best pirouette. “I like this one the best, but—”

  “But nothing,” my mother said. “It’s the most beautiful of them all.”

  “Do you think Michael will like it?”

  “If he doesn’t, he doesn’t deserve you.”

  “Mother!”

  “It’s true. You look like a porcelain doll. It fits you so well.”

  “And Papa?”

  “Your father will love it.”

  “It doesn’t have a back, and it’s tight around my hips. He might not like it.”

  “Your father will love it. Your pictures will be so pretty. The boys are wearing black?”

  “Black and white.”

  “This will be white?”

  I nodded.

  “It’s perfect,” she said. “Have her order it.”