Page 8 of Luca

“Not really. I played football in high school, but that’s about it.”

“So you’re a big guy with no fighting skills who’s never shot a gun? I can work with that.”

“I have a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Why do you want to help me? How do you know I am who I say I am?”

“I hacked into your DMV records. You have my mother’s eyes. Your mother’s eyes. You look just fucking like her, man.”

Considering I have the pictures to prove he’s right about the family similarities, it’s as good as a DNA test in his eyes.

“This is what you need to do before you come out here,” Finn says, and I listen intently to his every instruction. After all, he’s right. I have no clue what it takes to be a criminal in his world, but I’m sure as hell about to find out.

The ringing phone jerks me out of my memory. Finn sent me a burner phone, which I only talk to him on. He said not to call anyone else in Boston from my original phone and to disconnect it as soon as possible. He told me if we’re doing this, then there can be no ties to my life in California. That part was easy. I didn’t have a girlfriend, and though I had good friends in high school, taking care of a sick father and the secrets I had to keep from everyone about my history put a wedge between us. With Frank gone, I don’t have anyone I care about or who cares about me enough to miss me when I’m gone. Everyone here thinks I’m getting out of Atascadero to start a life away from reminders of my dad. That I’m leaving heartbroken. But I’m not. I’m leaving with a plan to take down a dangerous man who ruined not only my life but countless others.

“Hey, what’s up?” I answer.

“Today’s moving day. You all set?”

“Yup. Just need to get in the car.”

“You can still back out. Once you’re in Boston, shit’s going to get real. It won’t be just an idea anymore.”

Finn has made sure at every turn that I’m prepared for what life is going to look like once this whole thing gets underway. When we started this, he told me I had to get used to thinking on my feet and keeping a straight face because there’s no doubt I’ll see things that would otherwise make a normal person cringe.

“I’m not backing out, Finn. I’ve already put the work in. If anything, I’m more determined than ever to get out there and get shit started.”

When I talked to my cousin a year ago, he gave me a list of things I was going to have to do. One of them, funnily enough, was acting classes, specifically improv. He said since I didn’t grow up in the life, I needed to learn to think fast and control my expressions. I thought he was overdoing it, but there was no way in hell I was going to say no to him and have him back out of our deal.

He told me to learn how to shoot and get to the point where the gun felt like an extension of myself. I clocked a shit ton of hours at the gun range, learning everything I could and becoming a damn good shot, if I do say so myself.

Boxing was another class Finn insisted on. I’d never been in a real fight, and Finn was adamant I learned how to use my fists. It came in handy with the next part of the preparation plan for me. He wanted me to start hanging out in the seedier dive bars. Aside from the night I first called him, I hadn’t been much of a drinker, but Finn said I didn’t need to become an alcoholic to sell any of this. I just needed to make nice with some of the less desirable regulars at the bars I went to. It didn’t take long for me to be involved with my first bar fight, but thanks to the boxing classes, I learned how to throw a powerful punch. I won’t lie and say the camaraderie after the fight didn’t make me uncomfortable. These weren’t good guys. They were drug dealers and junkies, but Finn insisted I needed to be comfortable around those types of people and learn to fit in because a major part of our plan depended on it. I bought coke and pills from people and acted glad to see them every time we ran into each other at one of the three bars I frequented. I never took anything I bought off them, instead flushing that shit down the toilet when I got home, but I studied how the dealers operated.

So, after months of doing everything Finn told me to, we decided it was time for me to come out to Boston and find a way into the Cataldi organization. He said since it’s not something you can exactly apply for, I’d have to get an introduction to one of the capos and work my way up from there. Considering my size, he figured they would most likely want me as a guard, but I’d need to prove myself first.

“You need to work on that patience, cousin. This isn’t going to happen overnight.”

That was another thing he kept hammering home. He told me countless times that something like this could take years. That it wasn’t enough to go in and kill Francesco right away. I needed to get in there and figure out how and where we could weaken them so when it was time for a full-blown takeover, Finn would be the one to step in. That was the plan, at least. I’d be his inside man, and he’d make moves to take over their territory. Then, when the time was right and they were weak, that was when Francesco would be mine.

“I’ve been patient. For the last three years, all I’ve thought about is watching the old man take his last breath. I’m ready to put this in motion, Finn. Don’t start doubting me now.”

Finn chuckles. “I don’t doubt you, Luca. I’m simply making sure you’re ready.”

“I’m getting in my car now. I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Drive safe.”

Hanging up the phone, I look at the only house I’ve ever lived in since I was a baby. My father’s life insurance included a clause that, at the time of his death, his house would be paid off. It’s a small place, but the money from the sale will set me up nicely until I can get on a crew with the Cataldis and start earning.

The summer sun is beating down on me as I stare at the old bungalow. The three-bedroom, one-story home is ready for the family that bought the place to move in. It’s a nice-looking house in a quiet neighborhood with white paint and black shutters. When my dad was alive, it was painted light yellow with white shutters and matching trim, but the realtor said black and white was much more appealing. The first time I saw it freshly painted, it didn’t feel like my house anymore. And as of today, it no longer is. With one last long look, I get in my old SUV, packed with a few boxes in the trunk and pull out of the driveway. I don’t look in the rearview mirror, choosing to keep my eyes trained on the road ahead and the new world I’m ready to dive headfirst into.

The cross-country drive was uneventful and too fucking quiet. Frank and I never drove from coast to coast. Makes sense why, considering he was trying to stay as far from Boston as he could possibly get.

It’s the first time I’m driving through the Rockies, then the plains, passing through small no-name towns with nothing but my thoughts and a few CDs I brought with me. My car is so old it doesn’t have any sort of way to listen to music other than a CD player or the radio. This was my dad’s car, the one he shuffled me to and from school in and all the football practices and camping trips in between. Now, I’m taking it to the one place he vowed never to return to.

My mind repeatedly drifts to how he would feel about my plans. He wouldn’t be thrilled I’m putting myself in danger. Every time the idea of him being disappointed runs through my head, I remember the picture of my smiling mother with me on her hip or the look in Elio’s eyes, smiling down at the woman and child he clearly loved. Then, the rage comes back in full force. One man was responsible for taking that away, making their last moments on this earth terrifying in ways I could only imagine. And that man needs to pay.

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