Page 2 of Claimed By the Don

Realistically the guy isn’t going to be smoking outside the bodega on the corner anymore. We’ve both grown up and moved on. The chances I’ll run into him are pretty slim. But my sweet little boy is all long limbs and big dark eyes, lanky and beautiful like Benny. My heart squeezes at the thought.

This can’t be helped. My mom needs me, and I’m going home. Come hell or high water or an ex who’s bad news.

After four days, I stop at a gas station and clear out the trash from the car that we accumulated on the drive. I make my way down familiar streets until I can park in front of my mom’s little white house. Liam has his alligator under one arm and he’s ready to charge inside, excitement all over his face.

“Take it easy on Gram, okay?”

“I will,” he says.

I knock and the door is flung open. My mom backs up her wheelchair awkwardly, trying not to block the door. Liam gingerly hugs her around the shoulders and she kisses his messy dark hair.

“You’ve grown ten feet since I saw you over spring break, young man,” she says and he puffs his skinny chest out proudly. I kiss her cheek, squeeze her hand.

“I’m glad you’re here, Daisy. I wish it was better circumstances, but beggars can’t be choosers,” she tells me.

I nod, a little choked up to be back here with her. I indicate the car and leave Liam with her while I get the bags and my purse. I carry our stuff into my old room, narrow with wood paneling and a ceiling fan with a pull chain lightbulb.

I flop on the familiar saggy couch in the living room with relief. Liam sits at the table eating an apple and telling his gram how he thinks his tooth is getting wiggly. I lean back and shut my eyes.

An unexpected nap takes over while I’m listing things in my head that I need to do tomorrow. I have to get a job, some childcare while my mom heals, and find out when kindergarten registration is. It feels good to relax, to know that my mom has eyes on my son so I can let go of my vigilance just a little.

2

BENNY

“Dad, listen, they brought you a problem to look at. Thatisrespect for the don. Going behind your back or bitching about it would be an issue. This is how you wanna handle things. When can we meet with them and talk about this?”

He harrumphs. My dad used to be more reasonable than this. In the last couple years, he’s had some problems remembering and it’s made him mean as shit. I dragged him to the doctor a few months ago and went in with him. He lied about how bad the problem was and I told the truth. He was furious and didn’t talk to me for three weeks after that. Since then, Dad has doubled down on his archaic, my way or the highway attitude.

“I’m not gonna negotiate with these assholes, Benny. You talk it out like they got a say in the matter, and next thing you know they want a labor union and shit. The foot soldiers gotta know their place. If they don’t like the way the territory’s divided up, maybe they prove they can do more. Don’t come whine about it to my son like some little bitch,” he coughs and takes a drink from his glass. I know it’s not water, nine-thirty in the morning or not.

“I didn’t say give in to them. Hearing them out goes a long way with people. Listen to them, nod your head a couple times, tell them you hear what they’re saying, and you’ll get back to them with possible adjustments.”

“Is this what I paid tuition for? For you to come back to me with safe space woke bullshit vocabulary words?” he snorts.

“Yes. I made an A in Woke Bullshit Vocab, advanced level.” I say with a sigh, wondering if I have the worst blood pressure of any twenty-six-year-old in this city.

It’s taking a lot of self-control not to knock everything off his desk, grab him by his shiny polyester lapels and tell him to get the fuck out of my way and let me run things before he alienates all the lieutenants, and we end up with no organization.

He’s pissed off enough people in the last three years alone that it’s a testament to my managerial skills that we have the loyal staff we do. Because I practically follow him around like an apologetic nanny after a bad toddler, smoothing things over.

This pointless conversation is over. I shrug, throw out my paper coffee cup and tell him I’m taking off.

“Where you going?”

“Gino’s having a barbecue, celebrate the new baby and all. I said I’d bring the beer, so I better go ice some down. I’ll send them your regards.”

“Yeah, you do that. I’ll be here doing real work while you party with your cousins.”

I’m the fixer who’s going to buy beer on a Sunday morning to do damage control. When Gino invited us to his place and said it would be an honor to have the head of the family there, mydad looked him straight in the eye and said, “You got a wife? I thought you was gay. What happened to that skinny redheaded fella?”

“That’s Molly,” he said faintly and I think I died inside. I just cleared my throat and hoped we could breeze past the fact that my dad has all the charm of surprise raisins when you thought you had a chocolate chip cookie.

I hope a couple cases of beer will help smooth over my old man mistaking his nephew’s wife for a guy.

At Gino’s I hang out by the barbecue grill shooting the shit with the guys. The baby spits up all down her mom’s shoulder. Her sister takes the little one so Molly can go change.

“How’s she doing’?” I ask Molly’s sister.

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