Page 9 of Marcello DeLuca

Chapter Four

Marcello

The Talk

My morning routine was always the same: a quick shower, a glance at my phone, and then heading downstairs to join my father for breakfast. When I entered the kitchen, he was already at the table, sipping his espresso and scanning through a stack of newspapers.

”Morning, Marcello,” he greeted me without looking up from his papers.

”Morning,” I replied, grabbing a slice of toast and some fruit. I took a seat across from him, waiting for him to finish whatever he was reading.

“So…” He lifted his mug to his lips and took another sip of expresso. He glanced at me over the edge of his newspaper. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Romeo, E-Smooth, and Altoni,” he said, his voice casual but his eyes sharp. “You know they’re not the best company. None of them have any kind of plan for their future, except what you come up with.”

I shrugged, trying to downplay it. “They’re my friends, and they have their own plans.”

He folded the paper and placed it on the table, giving me his full attention. He was an imposing figure, with sharp features and a presence that commanded respect.

“Well, let’s see,” he began. “Romeo’s father gets his money by scamming people. E-Smooth’s people are crooked, and someone is always after them for one thing or another. Altoni, I suppose he’s a good kid, but his father is disgraced from his family because he was stealing from them. Not the best circle to have.”

I let out a long-exasperated sigh. “For crying out loud, those are all things their families have done. Can’t people be different than their family? Or should they be judged by their bloodline?”

He gave me a pensive stare. “People can be different than their bloodline, sure,” he continued. “But most people are not too far from the tree they fall from. Those boys are petty street thugs, and you already know my feelings on the matter. You don’t need to be caught up in anything petty when decisions are being made as to the leadership in our family’s ranks.”

“I won’t get caught up in anything petty,” I assured, feeling a mix of frustration and respect. “You should always trust that I won’t get involved in any of that stuff. I will never do anything to dishonor the DeLuca name. I’m just hanging with my friends.”

My father leaned back in his chair, studying me. “I know that you think I’m being hard on you, not trusting you. But I want you to run my empire and be ready to step up should the family needs you. To do that, you have to prepare yourself. Part of preparation is knowing who you can trust.”

As far as I knew, I could trust the guys in my circle. They had never given me a reason not to. We met when my preparatory school took us on a field trip to a nature trail five years ago. Erik, now known as E-Smooth, Romeo, and Altoni’s public school was also doing the trail.

I assured my father, “I understand that I have to be able to trust those around me, so I will keep everything you’ve told me in mind.”

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with my response. “Good. Then, I will see you at the office this afternoon?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Is there anything else you need to tell me?” he questioned.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“So…” My father lifted his mug to his lips, taking a slow, deliberate sip of his espresso. His eyes, sharp and perceptive, never left mine. “Who’s the girl?” he asked, his voice carrying authority.

“What girl?” I feigned ignorance, knowing full well there was no point in trying to hide anything from him.

He set his cup down gently, the ceramic making a soft clink on the table. “Marcello, you know better than to play dumb with me.” His tone was measured but firm, a clear indication that he wasn’t buying my act.

I sighed, leaning back in my chair. There was no getting around it. “Alright, alright. Her name’s Lanay Sanders,” I admitted, watching for his reaction.

“Lanay,” he repeated, rolling the name around as if testing its worth. “Tell me about her. How did you meet?”

I hesitated, swallowing hard. Lying to my father wasn’t an option. He could see through me like glass. “I met her at the Handover Street Theater. That’s why I go over there every evening,” I admitted. “And I like her. She’s… different. Not like anyone I’ve met before.”

For a moment, his expression softened, the stern lines of his face relaxing into something almost tender. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said quietly, his eyes searching mine. “She has to be someone special to make you smile like that.”

I felt a smile tug at my lips, unbidden but genuine. “She is… and I don’t even know her that well yet. It’s just something about her,” I continued, my voice gaining a bit of confidence. “From the first time I saw her, I knew I would have to be on Handover every evening to try to catch a glimpse of her again. She goes to the theater there. So, while you may think I’m trying to hang out with my friends everyday, it’s really her that has had my attention for the past few weeks.”

He nodded slowly, absorbing my words. “It sounds like she’s got a way of making you feel alive, something you can’t ignore,” he said, a hint of wistfulness creeping into his tone. “Those kinds of feelings don’t come around often.”

I watched him carefully, sensing a shift in the conversation. “You sound like you know what I’m talking about,” I said, probing gently.

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