Page 108 of The Killer Cupcake
"It's not enough, Kat. Carmelo has found him twice. He barely escaped. He's not the boy you knew anymore. They call him the Wolf of Harlem now because he’s always on the prowl, not in Brooklyn.”
“The Wolf,” Kathy repeated.
“Yeah, he hunts your daddy’s men like a predator. That shooting at Small's Paradise? That was him. Walked in during the late set, killed four of your father's best soldiers while they were listening to Bird play. Just stood there in his perfect suit, smoking a cigarette while they bled out on the dance floor. There were witnesses, Kathy.”
Kathy's knees went weak. She gripped the counter. "That's not... he couldn't..."
"He beat Smokey Johnson to death with a hammer—you remember him, ran numbers for your daddy, switched to work with the Italians before the war. Carmelo caught him in an alley behind the Apollo. Apparently, he was stealing from them. Playing both sides against each other.”
“Stop, Debbie. That’s enough,” Kathy pleaded.
“They found what was left of him from 125th to 135th—” Debbie continued.
"Stop. Please?—.”
"You need to know!” Debbie snapped. She paused. She took a breath. “Sorry. You need to hear this. He's systematically destroying everything your father built. The loan sharks, the numbers games, the protection rackets—he's either taking them over or burning them down. And he's got half the police in his father’s pocket now. He’s obsessed. Possessed. They say he owns more of Harlem than your daddy does because people are scared and turning to the Wolf for protection of their businesses. Paying him under the table, and not Uncle Henry.”
"So José is on board to go to Vegas?” Kathy asked, desperate to change the subject.
Debbie sighed. She relented.
"One hundred percent. I told you that he and Sam broke up when the judge moved to California. Vegas is closer to Sam. I think José is trying to follow him. I don't want to leave my Mama."
"I know Debs. I guess you should talk to her. Really tell her what's going on. When I told Ma what was happening with me and... you know who, she helped me. Got Daddy to let Ely take me out of Harlem and back to Mississippi. She has been with me every step of the way in protecting Sandy.”
"I hear you. I'm going to see Mama at the hospital today. Brother is taking me—if he can see to drive. He has decided he's in love and will get married. Tells me to go and he'll look after Mama."
There was a cool silence between them.
Kathy spoke next: “I wish I could change things, Deb. There’s nothing I can do to stop him. And the more I hear about who he is now, the more determined I am to stay away to keep her away. I have to think of Sandy. If he ever knew about her Debs, I don’t know how I could protect her from him, or save Ely. I can’t do anything.”
"I understand, Kat. I just needed to say it to you. To let you know what is left here. Bumpy served a purpose—peace with the Italians meant our people could breathe, prosper. Now? The Italians want everything, and they're willing to turn Harlem to ash to get it. Your father's lost thirty soldiers this year alone. Good men with families."
"And Mama? She lies when she calls me. Makes it seem like everything is okay. Is she okay?”
“She’s sad. The churches are empty on Sundays because people are afraid to gather. Reverend had to close the soupkitchen, too. The Schomburg had to be under your father’s protection. There is a Puerto Rican gangster who has ties with your dad, too, from East Harlem, so they are pushing back. There is resistance.”
Kathy's gaze slipped over to her daughter, stumbling around on her chubby legs. Ely had arrived and took her out of the high chair, watching her proudly. She looked like Carmelo the most when she laughed. From the moment the nurse put her in her arms, she saw him in her, prayed her skin would darken, and her hair would uncurl. It did. Still, she had his face, his smile, his laugh.
“Maybe I should come to visit. Maybe I can help stop all of this if I talk to him—leave her here, but reach out and tell him to stop. What do you think?” Kathy mumbled.
“Don't say it. Don't even think it. You can never come back, Kathy. Never. Carmelo's got eyes everywhere. He knows about Sandra—knows she exists. Matteo overheard him ranting once in his room alone about you betraying him as if he were having an argument with you. Matteo thinks he’s insane.”
Kathy closed her eyes as her heart shriveled.
“You are right. There is nothing you can do. So stay in Mississippi. We'll pray. We'll get through this," Debbie sighed. "I have to go. Brother will be here soon, and I need to dress Junior.”
"Leave Harlem, Debbie. You're pregnant, and you have Junior. Vegas may not be the paradise we thought, but if you and Matteo can finally be together, take that chance."
"You talk to Janey? I know she's there," Debbie said. “Maybe she can tell me if Matteo is for real, or just telling me lies to get me out of Harlem?”
"No. I'm never speaking to her again. Just go. Okay? I love you," Kathy said.
"Love you too. And Kat? We are Freeman’s. Made from true grit like Big Mama say. We’re going to survive this.”
The line went dead, leaving Kathy staring at her daughter—Carmelo's daughter—playing innocently on the floor, unaware that the secret of her very existence was written in blood across Harlem's streets.
Carmelo Ricci reclinedin his chair, rolling the cigar between his fingers before lighting it. The door opened after a single knock—a sound that meant one of three men had arrived: Matteo, Slim, or Don Cosimo Ricci. The shortest list in New York, one that would never include his father by choice.
