Page 88 of Straightened Out

“You know what mom would hate most? She’d hate that we can’t stand one another.”

She doesn’t have a response to that, and I take her silence as agreeance. After a long pause, she crosses her arms against her chest.

“Why are you here?”

“I’m here because even though I can’t stand you, you’re still my sister and I made a primise to our mother on her death bead that I’d always look out for you.”

It’s as simple as that.

“I’m a big girl, Rocco, and I’ve been looking out for myself for sometime now, but thanks anyway.”

God, she infuriates me.

“For fucks sake Gina, I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me too,” I hiss, pulling my hands from my pockets. In a flash, I close the distance between us and grab her shoulders. If only I could shake some sense into her. “Check your fucking ego and listen to what I’ve got to say.”

“Take your hands off me!”

I drop my hands and shake my head.

“Stubborn as shit you are,” I sneer before taking a step backward. “You turn on the news lately? Maybe grab a fucking newspaper on your way to the office? Or are you too wrapped up in your bubble to pay attention to anything else?” She remains silent and that just tips me over the edge. Blowing out a wrangled breath, I continue, “Uncle Vic is about to start a riot in prison and when he does…” My voice trails as she opens her mouth to interrupt, but I step closer. “Shut it, Gina. For once in your goddamn life listen to what I have to say. When that happens there is a possibility of retaliation, a real fucking strong possibility and everyone associated with the organization will be at risk.”

“Why are you telling me this? I have seen that side of the family in years. I sincerely doubt any of Uncle Vic’s goons even know that I’m a branch on the family tree.”

I nod.

Time to unleash the truth.

God, help me.

“You’re right, no one will connect you to him, but they sure as fuck will connect you to me.”

She quietly stares at me, absorbing my words and connecting the dots.

“You,” she whispers, pausing to swallow. “You’re not just visiting this time are you?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Jesus, Rocco,” she rasps. “What the hell did you do?”

Unable to look her in the eye, I lower my gaze and focus on my pristine loafers. She starts to talk about our mother again and I force my eyes back to hers, cutting her off.

“Mommy hated the mob because they killed our father, but our father was a low-life criminal who deserved everything he got. I’m the asshole who has been carrying humility of his name and I’m sick of being associated with the legacy of shit he left behind.”

There is a long list of hardships associated with inheriting Uncle Vic’s empire, but clearing myself from my father’s misdeeds makes it all worth it.

“So that’s your plan? You take Uncle Vic’s place, become a high-profile criminal, a glamorous mobster, and then what? You say I’m not happy, well, what about you? You’re delusional if you think this ends well. No, I take it back. You’re not delusional, you’re pathetic, because for someone who tries so hard not to follow in his father’s footsteps you’ve slipped right into his shoes.”

I think that’s enough truth for one night. I did what I came to do, I warned her that her life might be in jeopardy and tomorrow Johnny will begin to tail her. My job is done and so is this conversation.

~*~

The stench of fertilizer engulfs me as I enter the garden center with Rienzi and the old timers following behind. I bypass the plants, shovels and rakes, making my way down the narrow hallway that leads to Micky’s office and pause in front of the closed door when I hear him howl in pain.

“Matty and Phil are working him over,” Rienzi explains from behind me.

I take another step and my hand closes around the dirty doorknob. Cringing, I twist it and kick the door open. Bound to the chair behind his desk, Micky lifts his head as he screams in agony. My eyes flit to desk where Matty holds Micky’s hand—or what’s left of it—firmly against the wood.

“Micky,” I greet, stepping inside the room. “You look distressed.”

---