Page 5 of The Don

Every now and again, rage momentarily obliterates the grief. I muster up the energy to be angry that I ever met her. If I didn’t know Shae existed, I could rest, I reason with myself. I could restore contentment to my life.

That anger is always fleeting.

If I’d never met Shae, I would be a different man today, certainly. I would be the man I was before, comfortable in the prison I’ve made for myself, cold in all of the places she lit a fire in me.

I can’t go back to that. I can never be that man again. Even if I wanted to.

I walk slowly toward the restaurant feeling like a caged bird — as if I know what it feels like to fly, but there’s not enough room to spread my wings. Granted, I crafted this cage, one slain enemy at a time, one takeover after another. For years, this cage was exactly what I wanted. I didn’t hate knowing these bars existed because I’d begun welding them into place long before Shae was even alive.

I never imagined one afternoon could change the direction my world spun on its axis, but now I’m certain I exist only for her.

“You shouldn’t be walking alone.”

I sigh and tilt my head back, enjoying the feeling of the sun on my face, even though it does nothing to warm the crisp morning air. “If you’re always skulking around me, am I ever really alone?” I ask Alfonso.

“Ah, you’re feeling philosophical today,” he says. “I should leave you alone.”

“You should, but you won’t.”

He shrugs.

“Did you investigate Giuseppe’s problem?”

He grunts. “Extortion. I handled it.”

“Hmm, interesting.”

“If you say so. Not my job.”

“Where is he now?”

“Right now? In a ditch in a field somewhere. Possibly.”

“Hmm.”

“Maybe you should have sent Giulio?” He asks that question as if he doesn’t trust his judgment, but I do.

“No, I sent you, and you handled it. That is all that matters at the end of the day. Or the start, as it happens.”

He grunts, but he doesn’t believe me, so we settle into contemplative silence. As well as I think I know Alfonso, I have no idea what he’s thinking in this moment, but I don’t prod at his private thoughts. For my part, when he mentions Giulio’s name, he inadvertently reminds me of Zahra. Not for the first time, my pathetic brain stutters at how much she reminds me of Shae when I am weak. Unfortunately, I always feel weak.

“Is Giuseppe alright?” I ask once I can pull myself back into the moment.

“He’s fine,” Alfonso says, puffing out his chest.

“Then I did send the right person for the job.” I let Alfonso absorb those words because he needs to hear them. “Do we know who he was?”

“Not yet, but I’ll be on the lookout for a response. I wonder who will be scrambling today.”

We round the corner and set across the square toward the restaurant. The new waitress, Alma, is waiting outside, smoking a cigarette and typing furiously on her mobile phone.

“How long do you think she will last?” Alfonso quips.

“Ah, about as long as the pula wants her to, I suppose.”

Alfonso huffs an annoyed breath.

“Sil gentile,” I tell him.

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