Page 13 of Claimed By the Don

“Your father got shot when he was fifty-one. He didn’t live to see if this ran in the family,” I point out.

“Get out of here, you’re pissing me off, kid,” he says gruffly.

“Your brother and your granddad died young, too.”

“I should’ve never made it after that shooting a couple years ago.”

“Six years ago,” I correct automatically.

Six. Something rings a bell with me. That happened right before Daisy left town. My dad was shot, a couple of the enforcers didn’t make it out alive, and I took a bullet in the upper arm that passed clean through but left a scar. I wonder if that had anything to do with Daisy taking off when she did.

“I wouldn’t have to deal with this shit if you’d let me die a soldier’s death like my dad and my brother.”

“You gonna bitch that I didn’t let you die in a pool of your own blood and piss in an alley?” I counter.

“I did not piss myself,” he says.

“You woulda if I’d left you there.”

“You been pissed off ever since. Anybody would think you were mad I didn’t die,” he says.

“That doesn’t even make sense. I saved your life.”

“You’ve still been an asshole since. Maybe it was that little piece you were seeing. She up and left you and you acted like a dumbass ever since. Liked the money but couldn’t stomach the life, that’s what I always figured. She didn’t seem like family material anyway.”

“Did you say something to her? Did you pay her to leave town?” I demand.

“You kiddin’ me? I was in the hospital. Your mother wasn’t too happy with me either.”

“Dad, Mom wasn’t there,” I say. “She was already dead.”

He looks at me a minute and goes back to his story, “She got mad as a wet hen when I got shot. Always said she’d do me a favor and plug me in my own home if I had a death wish,” he says. He tries to laugh, but he looks so forlorn I want to leave the room and go for a run to put distance between this place and me, between the decline of my father and me.

“You gotta get a hold of this. Things aren’t getting better, and you wanna go out when you can still choose how, don’t you?”

“Is that what your fancy shrink told you to say?” he asks.

I walk out, get in my car, drive without even knowing where I’m going. Daisy’s car isn’t at the salon. I go past her mom’s house. Her car isn’t there either. I drive home, put in an extra workout, and do some work from my laptop.

There are a couple big decisions coming up and they’re the executive kind. Nothing we can crowd source in a meeting to bolster my dad. I call Willa and ask her what she’s thinking.

“Old bastard needs to go,” she replies.

“Any ideas?”

“That don’t involve a bloody coup? No.”

“That’s not helping,” I say. “Neither is reasoning with him.”

Willa snorts, and I can’t blame her, “When did logic ever work on the biggest drama queen in the state of New Jersey? Even when things were kosher, he was a prick to deal with.”

“You have a point.”

“You don’t need me to tell you this,” she says, snapping her gum for emphasis.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Listen, I know it’s a hard thing, but if you’re gonna be boss after your dad, you’re gonna have to sack up, kiddo.” “Thanks, cousin.”

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