Page 56 of Corporate Bondage

Chapter Twenty-Five

(Gio)

“Fresh bruises, Gio,” Ma remarked as she hugged me at the airport. “I worry about you, son. Now I’m thinking Piero was right. It’s not good this relationship you are in. Do you need to come home for a while, topolino?”

I removed her hands from my neck smiled. She had not called me topolino since I was a little boy. “Ma, I’ll be fine, and you know I hate coming out to Las Vegas but I’ll try to visit soon.”

“I know you don’t come around much because of your father.” Her brows knitted in worry. “I so wish things were different between you.”

“Me too.”

“Still, you have it better than your brother. Sometimes I believe he regrets the decision he made to work with your father.” Fear entered her eyes. “I worry for Niccola. If you could persuade him to leave the casino business and do something else with his life, Gio. I’m so afraid your father will bring him down with him.”

I frowned at her as her flight was announced for boarding. “Ma, are you sure you want to go back to Las Vegas with Pa? You can stay here with me.”

She shook her head. “That’s where my home is. Just promise me you’ll visit.”

“I will.”

I waved to her as she left, worried about our conversation. It worried me more that Ma was the only one who boarded that plane. My father and brother were still in San Diego, and I could only think of one reason. They still hoped I would give them access to the restaurant for their drug distribution train. It would be the perfect cover up for them. Yesterday, Pa had called my phone again, leaving some colorful words as he screamed into the phone that the restaurant is as much his as mine.

As I drove back home, I contemplated whether or not I wanted to keep the restaurant. Since my father had tainted the significance of the restaurant for me, I was thinking of giving it up. Maybe I would sell my shares to him so he could do whatever he wanted and leave me out of it. My only worry was that I didn’t want my brother or father being so close to me. It would be only a matter of time before they demanded more, and then, the next thing I would know was that I worked for a crime boss who expected me to put my neck on the line even if I were caught.

If I sold him the restaurant, I had nothing here keeping me in San Diego. I could always move again, somewhere far away, somewhere I wouldn’t be tempted to drive over to Keith’s condo, which I had done yesterday. I’d felt like a stalker as I sat observing his building. I wouldn’t be tempted to drop by his office and demand that we work on our relationship instead of giving up.

Tate had promised he would try to intervene but so far, he hadn’t been able to help much. I hadn’t spoken to him since I dropped by his office. All his calls went unanswered. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, didn’t want to hear the pity in his voice as he asked me how I was holding up. I was afraid I would answer the question honestly instead of the generic ‘I’m fine’ response. No, I wasn’t doing fine. I had sleepless nights, zero interest in the restaurant and spent my time making batches of ice cream that I now gave away to a nearby soup kitchen. The idea had hit me as I stood staring at the refrigerator full of food, wondering where I was going to stick the next ice cream batch I had whipped up. The idea had been inspired by my memory of Keith telling me about his childhood and how he ate whatever was provided, no questions asked. Half the content of my fridge was now cleared, and the soup kitchen folks had been so grateful. One woman had remarked she hadn’t eaten ice cream in years. For the first time since Keith kicked me out, I had felt like I had a purpose.

I had only been there twice but planned to go back as often as I could. I stopped at the restaurant to rope my kitchen supervisor into the project. I gave the instructions not to throw out meals prepared, but to box them for the soup kitchen. After seeing that everything was indeed fine, I returned home.

Making ice cream had started off as a pet project of mine to test my particular fondness for sweets. Since they did so well on the dessert menu at the restaurant, I harbored the idea of opening a gourmet ice cream and pastry shop instead of operating the restaurant. Or I could have both businesses. I’d need the capital from the restaurant, however, to venture into the ice cream shop idea. If I sold dad the establishment as had crossed my mind, I could do this.

My mood dampened when the first person I thought to call to share my idea was Keith. He had been a part of my life for such a short time but had made a great impact that left me missing him.

The doorbell rang, bringing me out of my depressing thoughts. I opened the door and was surprised to find Nic there. I glanced behind him expecting to see my father because they were hardly seen without each other. Nic appeared to be alone though.

“Nic, what are you doing here?” I asked him.

His face was serious, his eyes worried. “Did you take Ma to the airport like I asked you to?”

I nodded. “Yes, but I’m surprised you and dad didn’t get it done. Why are you even still here?”

“I’ll answer your questions, but can I come inside?”

I allowed him in and checked to ensure dad really wasn’t out there before closing the door.

“Ma’s worried about you,” I told him, leading the way to the living room where we sat.

“Ma’s always worried,” he replied with a shrug.

I shook my head. “Not like that. I mean really worried. She thinks you are caught up in Pa’s life and can’t get out. You do know you don’t have to do what he says, don’t you, Nic?”

“I’m working on something.” He removed the beret he wore and finger-combed his hair. “Anyway, I’m not here to talk about me. I came to talk about you.”

“What about me?”

“The bloke you’re seeing. What’s his name again?”

I frowned. “Keith? What does this have to do with Keith?” I scoffed. “Don’t tell me Pa doesn’t like him and wants you to convince me to change my mind about being gay.”

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