Page 41 of Depraved
“We did. It’s them. Her dad and brother. Dante, they’re the lowest forms of fucking scumbags…the shit we’ve heard. È orribile. It’s gonna make you lose it. But they’re here, in Chicago, about a block from her place.”
My fist strains against itself, making my knuckles white. What kind of men hunt their own flesh and blood? Unless she betrayed them…turned on them.
The idea gives me pause. Sarah’s definitely running because she’s afraid, but until now, I never considered it’s something she’s due.
No. I throw the idea away the minute it enters my mind. Because I don’t care if it is something she deserves—nobody touches her.
“Send Nico and some of the other guys to have a friendly chat.”
By friendly, I mean for them to break bones and jaws, knock out teeth, and take their dignity.
“You want them gone?” Antonio questions seriously.
He’s not asking me if I want them to be given plane tickets—he’s asking if I want their lives. I hear the train run by him on his end, and I take that opportunity to answer, just in case it’s not justuslistening.
“Send them back to Boston. I don’t think after a chat they’ll be back. But if the boys feel it necessary to send them somewhere further, then I’m more than happy to front the ticket.”
I hear him chuckle before he answers, “Perfetto.”
“Hey,” I add, “not a word to Sarah.”
“Of course. One more thing. We did find the guy who they used to track her down. He was showing her picture around, asking if anyone knew her. What do you want us to do with him?”
“Bring him to the space. And tell Matteo to ask Sarah about her family…she trusts him, she might talk. We need to know more.” Before I hang up, I add, “Antonio. When you grab our new friend…I need his jaw working in order for him to speak.”
“I’ll do my best.” He laughs darkly.
I hang up just as we pull up to my destination. The car slows into the entrance, winding along the smoothly paved road flanked by oak trees. My mind wanders thinking of the last time I spoke with my mother.
The car turns, taking another road that leads down to a grassy area where a brook runs. We slow to a stop, and I exit, taking in a deep breath and exhaling, before reaching back in for the flowers.
It’s the same each week. I hate coming. Despise remembering.
But then, I walk the thirty-seven steps past the stone-and-marble gravestones etched with the names of people lost and show my respects to the woman who gave me life but ended her own.
I run my hand over the white, cold stone, brushing away a few small leaves, and pull her flowers from last week out of the vase, replacing them with the new ones.
“Ciao, mamma. Ho portato i tuoi fiori preferiti. Non come la signora nella tomba accanto a te … i suoi figli le hanno portato un mazzo di garofani. Roba da due soldi. Solo il meglio per te.”Hi, Mom. I brought you your favorites. Not like the lady a few down…her kids bring carnations. Cheap. Only the best for you.
I laugh sadly as the words come out, thinking how pleased she’d be to have the fanciest gravestone with all the best flowers and how much I wished I could have saved her from the dirt that buries her body.
I inhale in quick succession on my forgotten cigar. “You guys are like a bunch of chicks. I’m not telling you shit.”
My brothers and I are seated outside on the patio, drinking the smoothest scotch and enjoying cigars. Family dinner is a ritual, and we abide by it every Sunday. It’s a “have to” amongst us, but it’s also a “want to.”
It’s one of the few times in my life when I can let down my guard and just be the man I am.
Luca tosses the same half-eaten roll at me, hitting my bad shoulder.
“Dick,” I growl, rolling my shoulder. “I’m gonna choke you to death. With my bare hands.”
Luca’s eyes are filled with amusement as he leans forward. “Good luck with that, cripple. Listen, you don’t want to tell us the good stuff? Fine. You’re like a virgin in relationships. It’s okay…we can ease you in. Warm you up, sweetheart. It only hurts a little.”
I laugh at his crude humor, and Dom throws back the rest of his drink as his shoulders shake.
“If you aren’t spilling the goods, at least tell us what you know about what she’s involved in,” Luca finishes, getting down to business.
I lean back, resting my arms out over the chairs next to me, deciding how to tell them. But there’s no point in sugarcoating it, so I give it to them straight.
