by Aria R. Blue
The only problem is that I don’t want to throw her into this kind of life.
A life where people switch sides when they’re offered more money. A life where there’s danger at every corner.
So there’s only one thing left to do.
I roll down the windows and let the frigid November air bite at my skin. I go through the streets I know so well.
Chicago.
I spent a decade here. Father brought me here right after my Mom passed away. I was raised by the city.
This is the city where I made friends and lost friends.
This is the city where I lost myself and then found myself.
It’s all so different now, but it’s still the same.
The shops and restaurants keep changing, but the roads and the weather remain familiar.
I pull into a familiar neighborhood, and park in front of a small dingy diner. A glowing orange sign hangs in front of it.
Mama’s Kitchen.
As soon as I enter it, the familiar smell of greasy fast food and soda greets me. I nod at the middle-aged Black man sitting behind the counter reading a newspaper.
He slams down the newspaper in surprise. “Leo?”
“Hey, G. It’s been a while,” I say, stopping in front of him.
“I thought I would never see you again, kid. How’s country life treating you?”
“Mercifully uneventful,” I chuckle.
It’s why I left, regardless of the consequences.
When you’re in a gang, you’re in it for life. If you decide to leave halfway through like I did, people get pissed off.
The only reason I still have my head attached to my shoulders is because I’m the boss’s son.
“I met someone though,” I add.
“Good for you, son,” he beams, genuinely happy for me. “Good for you. Things haven’t been too great in the city after you left. You’re lucky you left when you did.”
“I’ve heard of the killings,” I sigh.
Some of the Italian soldiers have been disappearing. Nobody knows who’s doing it.
There are three ruling families in Chicago.
The Italians.
The Russians.
The Blackwoods.
For a long time, the Italian mafia was on relatively friendly terms with the Blackwoods. But what I did to Nico ruined that.
And for that reason alone, a lot of people want me dead.
And now, there’s a bigger nuisance in the city. Some of the Italians have been disappearing, and everyone is blaming each other.
It’s adding to the rising tension.
If something isn’t done about this, there can be a lot of unnecessary bloodshed.
“Anyway, it’s good to see you around here, kid,” Gerald says.
I smile at him and move towards the back of the restaurant.
The bouncers standing in front of the double doors recognize me. They push the doors open and let me in.
The change in atmosphere is drastic as I step into the club.
Outside, the dimly-lit restaurant is as quiet as a library.
But in here, the bass-heavy music is deafeningly loud. Neon lights flash from above, painting everybody in shades of neon pink and purple.
I can physically feel the music all the way down to my bones.
Dance music.
Girls are writhing on poles, all in various states of undress. They have hundred-dollar bills folded in their panties and stuffed into their bras.
I know that there are rooms in the back for patrons who want more than just a lap dance.
I scan the room until I find what I’m looking for.
A man with broad shoulders and a shock of pepper grey hair.
There’s a topless girl sitting on his lap, grinding herself on him to the beat of the club music. But he looks bored, like this is just another night he has to get through.
As if he can sense me watching him, his familiar eyes turn to me.
I cross my arms over my chest.
Hello Father.
29
Leo
“Hey, handsome. Want me to dance for you?” purrs one of the strippers.
I don’t even look at the girl as I shake my head.
She walks away without further questions, on the hunt to find somebody who’s actually here for her services tonight.
I have my eyes glued on him.
Anthony Blackwood.
Boss of the Blackwood Crime Family. King of Chicago. My father.
He taps his dancer’s knee, and the blonde peels herself off him. She scurries away after glaring at me.
I hold my father’s gaze for a few seconds, before turning around and leaving through the same doors I entered from.
He follows.
The music and the lights and the booze are left behind.
The peace and quiet of the empty diner is soothing to my lovesick heart.
Being away from Belle has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
I told myself that it would get easier with time, but my heart suffocates a little bit more with every day that passes.
“I was wondering how long it would be before you showed up,” he says, taking a seat at one of the booths.
I sit down opposite him.
His hair is grey, deep wrinkles line his face, and his body has put on some extra padding over the years.
It’s all a ruse.
To make him look harmless. But the truth is, my father is a cold-hearted killer through and through.
That’s how it is in this world.
Nothing is ever as it seems.
A small diner is never just a small diner. It’s a cover for a strip club or an illegal gambling ring.
Or in the case of ‘Mama’s Kitchen,’ it’s both.
A friendly-looking man in a pink shirt is the boss of a crime organization who low-key controls the whole city.
“Gerald,” he says, turning away from me with a sigh. “The usual.”
Both of us look at Gerald.
He’s still sitting behind the counter, trying to blend into the walls to avoid witnessing the awkward interaction about to happen between father and son.
He jumps up when my father addresses him.
A moment later, there’s a cookies n’ cream milkshake sitting in front of my face.
“What, you don’t want to talk, and you don’t want to drink either? You used to love the milkshakes here,” Father says, biting into his cheeseburger.
“That was a long time ago,” I say, even as I take a sip of the thick ice cream milkshake through the giant red straw.
“So, what brings you to Chicago?” he asks, rolling up the sleeves of his salmon pink shirt, and resting his elbows on the table.
“I got a phone call a few days ago,” I say, circling my straw in the milkshake glass. “You can probably imagine my surprise when I found out that the Blackwoods were at war with the Russians.”
“And?” he asks.
“Would’ve been nice if I heard it from you,” I say through gritted teeth.
“I would have if you bothered to call every once in a while,” he snaps back.
“A war? Are you out of your mind?”
“You don’t have a say in this, Leo. You lost the right to that when you left the family. The only reason you’re even alive right now is because you’re my son.”
“You never miss an opportunity to remind me of that, do you,” I say, my hands curling into fists.
“It’s the truth. We welcomed you into the organization after you proved your worth. But it wasn’t right what you did—leaving a decade into your service. If it were anybody else who did what you did, I would’ve personally have had them beheaded.”
“I hated the life. I hated the things I did. I hated the person I was becoming. All I did was leave a life I hated.”
“And yet, you’re back now because you need my help,” he says, his eyes flashing. I catch a glimpse of the cold-blooded killer in him.
Somet
imes, I wonder if he’s capable of it.
If he’s capable of really murdering me.
Death is the punishment that’s given for leaving the mob.
A mobster is a mobster for life.
I chose early retirement even though it wasn’t a choice. The only reason I got away with my head still on my shoulders is because of my father’s influence.
But still, sometimes I wonder if he’ll ever snap and kill me himself.
Probably, the only thing that holds him back is that I have my mother’s eyes.
She was the only good thing in his life, and he knew it. Even if he realized that a little too late.
“The only reason I’m back is because of your stupid decisions,” I say. “The Reznikov’s have been growing in power for decades now. They’re almost as powerful as we are. We need to have the Russians as our allies, not as our enemies.”
“The Reznikov’s are weeds,” Father says coldly. “Unwanted growth. If left unchecked, they’ll take over the entire city. They need to be put in their place. I don’t want a war either, but if they want to fight us, we’re going to fight back.”
I grip the milkshake glass so hard I’m afraid it’ll shatter. But I make myself take a deep breath, and count to ten in my head.
“Your actions have an influence on my life,” I say slowly.
“Ah, so that’s what this is all about,” he says, leaning back in his seat. “Why didn’t you say so, Leo?”
“Say what?”
“Ivy told me that you met a girl,” he grins.
“That little tattletale,” I say under my breath. I knew my sister wouldn’t be capable of keeping anything to herself.
“So it’s true then,” he muses. “I didn’t believe it at first, but there could only be one explanation for you being back in the city. A girl.”
“You didn’t think I was here to see you, did you?” I say bitterly.
“I’m a lot of things, Leo, but I’m not delusional. It’s been eight years since we talked, and I didn’t think for one second that you’re back because you missed me. No, you’re back because you need me.”
I look at my father’s dark eyes.
His face is more weathered than the last time I saw him eight years ago. The lines on his forehead are deeper, and he looks like this life has finally exhausted him.
And I realize then that he’s been waiting for me to come back.
He said so himself.
Eight years.
He’s been keeping track.
But I don’t have any sympathy for him just because he’s getting older. “If you mess up, they’re going to come after me. If the Russians win the war, they’ll kill everyone in our ranks and their families. They’ll come after Ivy. They’ll come after Belle. I can’t let that happen.”
The Italians have never been a threat.
As long as Nico is in their ranks, they would never hurt us. He has a twisted set of morals, but he still values the friendship we shared.
The shooting at Silver Falls was his idea of a joke. He just has a sick sense of humor.
But the Reznikov’s…they’re something else altogether.
“Weren’t you friends with Maxim?” I ask him now.
Maxim Reznikov, the head of the Russian mob family and my father go way back. They rose to power together.
There was a time when they ruled the city together.
But as their power grew and grew, one of them was bound to be more powerful than the other. I can only speculate, but I’m guessing resentment turned their friendship sour.
But still, last I heard, they tolerated each other’s presence.
“I wouldn’t use the word ‘friends',” Father shrugs.
“What changed?” I ask.
“I might or might not have stolen a shipment from him,” he says.
“Why would you go and do such a thing?”
“Narcotics. Unrefined and too-powerful. The kind that could’ve killed people if they were distributed in the streets.”
I stare at my father.
He might have a heart of stone, but he still has a heart.
“And he declared a war against us for that?”
“There might or might not have been other similar incidents,” Father says, sucking his cheeks in and trying not to smile.
“Dad,” I laugh, rolling my eyes.
He goes entirely still, staring at me like I’m a specter. He blinks a few times before he turns his attention to his cheeseburger.
I take another sip of my milkshake. It still tastes as good as it did when I was a kid.
I guess it’s been a while since I last called him that. Dad.
In the last eight years, we haven’t spoken over the phone either. There were some text messages here and there, all of them about Ivy.
“Tell me about her,” he says after a moment.
I close my eyes and think about Belle.
“She’s sunshine,” I say, as a bright warmth courses through my heart. “Light and grace and all things good. She’s the kind of person who captures bugs in little jars and sets them free outside. Who cleans up gunshot wounds even though the sight of blood scares her.”
“Gunshot wounds?”
My jaw hardens once more. “Yeah. Nico.”
“What’s Nico’s problem?”
“It’s a long story,” I sigh.
“I’ve got nothing but time,” he says. He winces a little after saying that. I wonder what that’s about.
Just then, a couple emerges from the club’s doors. A girl with enormous eyelash extensions and a man with a potbelly.
Both of them are drunk.
Gerald appears from the kitchen, and ushers them back into the club. “Come on, guys. The exit is through the back,” he says.
Father clears his throat. “We were talking about Nico.”
“Right. Have you ever heard of Luna Sullivan?” I fold my fingers on the table between us.
“You little shit. That was your doing?”
I shrug. “She came to me. I couldn’t throw her back to the streets. She wanted the same thing I did—to get away from this life. So I gave her protection.”
“She’s been living with you?” he asks.
“Yeah. I gave her a place to stay and a job. She’s happy with her life as it is.”
“I bet Nicolo isn’t too thrilled about this arrangement.”
“Not at all. He wants her back, and since she won’t talk to him, he’s trying to get to her through me.”
“By shooting you?”
“Yeah, that was his way of getting my attention. He fired the gun in such a way that Belle wouldn’t have gotten hurt. He was counting on my fighter reflexes to kick in, and push her out of the way.”
I think about that night.
The shiny black car had pulled up slowly, drawing attention to itself. If the shooter was aiming to kill, he would’ve done it all so much faster.
I continue, “But he didn’t count on me moving towards the bullet. It didn’t hurt me, but it grazed my shoulder. This was all just Nico’s way of getting my attention. I went out the next day, and discovered that the black car was a rental. I traced it back to Nico.”
“Your generation does not know how to keep things simple,” Father says, shaking his head. “So much drama, and it’s all for nothing.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I actually agree. He should’ve just called me.”
“Would you have said ‘yes’?”
“No,” I chuckle. “It’s not my decision to make.”
“So from what I understand, all Nico is asking for is a second chance with that girl.”
I shrug. “A second chance that Luna isn’t willing to give. She wants nothing to do with him or the life he leads. And I respect that.”
“Has she found somebody else?” Father asks.
I think about my friend.
She stays in the West Wing alone. She’s living a reasonably happy life, but every time we talk about Nic
o, a shadow falls upon her.
In her heart, she loves him, but she knows that all his world promises is death and destruction.
He refuses to leave the mafia.
She refuses to be a mob wife.
I suck in a deep breath. “I don’t think she’s completely over him. But she keeps saying that ‘just because there’s love between two people, it doesn’t mean that they’re right for each other.’ I feel sorry for Nico, but I know he won’t leave his brothers. And if he can’t promise her a life that would make her happy, what’s the point of being together?”
Father blinks. That’s when I realize that all the words I just spoke might have hit a little too close to home. He can relate to it.
He loved my mother.
She loved him.
But they knew that the lives they led would lead them down different paths.
The love remained, but neither of them admitted to it. Maybe if they had, things would’ve been different.
Both of them held on to each other even when they were apart. And that made them downright miserable.
Father clears his throat. “All of this can be avoided if you just ask Luna nicely.”
“Ask her to give her husband a second chance? Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”
“You said husband, and not ex-husband,” Father says slowly. I’m reminded of the days I spent watching him negotiate deals, and come out victorious. “Why?”
“They never got around to getting a divorce.”
“Why not? If she hated him so much, surely she would try to legally end their relationship as well?”
I know the answer to this, but I can’t tell him. So I remain quiet and let him come to his own conclusions.
“It could only be because she wants to get back with him,” he says, beaming like he just unlocked a new level of his favorite video game.
“Let’s not talk about this like this is an option. If Luna wants to take back her ex-lover, she will. But I’m not going to coerce her into it.”
“Even if it could possibly prevent a war?” he asks.
I think about it.
All that violence and bloodshed could be avoided if I allowed Nico to talk to her.
Because if Nico wasn’t holding a grudge against me, the Italians would be on our side. And the Russians would never go against two of the biggest crime families of Chicago.