Page 26 of Straightened Out

Doesn’t he realize he’s going to destroy his family with his death? If they knew he was sick and refusing treatment, they’d hate him.

Setting his fork and knife on top of his plate, his eyes dart between me and Joaquin.

“By now, the both of you have heard what happened at my opening in New York.”

My expression stills as I lift my chin. I have no fucking idea what he’s referring to—shocker.

“Last I heard, you had a lot on your plate, now you’re here. I’m going to assume that’s a good sign,” I say.

Vague, sure, but it does the trick.

“Never assume anything, Rocco, that’s what got your father pumped full of lead,” he volleys.

I can’t fucking win.

He smooths a hand over his silk tie, and I notice his handkerchief matches perfectly. A lost trend to some, but a fashion staple for a legend.

“As I told you, the situation you found yourself in last night was no coincidence. However, you made me believe it was you that handled our little problem, but that wasn’t the case, was it?”

Wait…what?

I lift my eyes from his handkerchief and stare at him. First, he surprises me with the whole Mitch thing, now this.

He looks at Joaquin.

“You’re sharp, Joaquin, it’s a shame your mother didn’t get knocked up by one of our kind. You would’ve been perfect.”

Joaquin flinches at the slur just as Uncle Vic lifts his hand and signals for one of the bodyguards positioned in the corner of the room. Like the trained chimp he is, the man crosses the room and reaches into his pocket, handing my uncle Vic a thick envelope before moving back to his post.

Fixing me with a look, he shakes his head.

“You should’ve known what was going on in the club. You should’ve anticipated Pablo before you even knew his fucking name, but you didn’t. You let Joaquin handle it and when I questioned you, you played it off like you had everything under control.”

Sweat beads on my forehead and I start to wonder if he’s planted bugs in the club. Hell, at this rate, he might have me fucking bugged—I’ve been so oblivious I wouldn’t have even realized it.

“Uncle Vic—”

He cuts me off.

“Shut up, Rocco. You don’t speak unless I ask a question and I haven’t asked you shit.”

Biting the inside of my jaw, I swipe a hand over my face. So much for becoming a made man. After tonight, I’ll be lucky if I’m washing dishes in the kitchen of this restaurant.

“Sir if I may—” Joaquin asserts.

“You may not,” Uncle Vic fires back. “I know this idiot has been too busy fucking anything with a skirt and that you’re the one cleaning up mess after mess around here, but that ends now, here at this table.”

He slams his fist down and all the silverware rattles.

Jesus Christ.

What happened to secrets and protecting what’s yours?

I guess all that went out the fucking window in the last twelve hours.

“You’re coming back to New York with me.” He pauses for a moment, rolling his neck from side to side before fixing me with a stern look. “I want you to understand something, dear nephew… you are not a choice, you’re my last fucking resort. You are what happens when a dying man loves his children more than anything in this fucking world. You are what happens when a powerful man sacrifices everything he’s built so long after he’s gone, his daughters can live happily and without fearing the consequences of their father’s lifestyle.”

My throat tightens as those words penetrate.

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