Page 31 of Gianni DeLuca

“No, my mother.” He put down his glass, and I noticed his hand tremored slightly. “Ma said you wanted to meet with me?”

“Yes, I did.”

“What’s up?”

“You want anything to eat? Anything?”

“I’m good.” He checked his watch. I noticed the Rolex. Not flashy. Yet expensive. “I have to get going soon, so....”

“Let’s go to my office.”

“All the same to you. I’d rather stay out in the open.”

I tapped the bar, knowing that touching him when he appeared nervous might trigger a reflex to strike me. “You may not believe me, but I love your mother. Always have. Always will. To hurt you would devastate her, and I would never do anything to hurt her intentionally. Call her now and keep her on the phone if it will make you feel safer, or call your uncle. Neither would have sent you here if they thought I planned to do harm.”

He seemed to mull over what I said, and when I stood, he followed suit and headed to my office. I gestured for him to sit at the conference table instead of my desk. I moved next to him and passed him a folder.

He looked down at the folder. “What’s this?”

“I’ve already changed my will. Most of my assets will go to you, including the restaurant and the majority share of the casino. I have a couple of silent partners, but you have controlling shares.”

His eyes, so much like mine, finally looked at me and searched my face for the truth. “Why would you give me everything without knowing me?”

“You are my son. My sole heir. When my father was murdered before me, he’d neglected to draw up a will.” I chuckled derisively. “Imagine that. He was a lawyer handling everyone’s business but not his own. My mother and I had to practically start from scratch. I have too much wealth to leave it to the fucking government. Rather give it to my blood.”

He looked around my office and then back at me, a slight smile softening his handsome features. “If I killed you right now, this would be mine?”

I shrugged. “More or less. But I hope you want to get to know me rather than kill me.”

Courage picked up the folder though he didn’t open it. “You and Unc used to be friends, right?”

“Best friends.”

“Yeah, he told me that, too.”

“I’m assuming he told you to trust me if you’re here right now.”

Courage’s jaw tightened.

“He told you to trust me only in this situation.”

He nodded.

“That’s fair. Your uncle and I haven’t seen each other since we were sixteen. He once helped me and ended up shot. I thought he was dead all these years, and the other day was the first time I found out that he’d survived.” I pulled up my sleeve and showed him my scar. “This means ‘brothers for life.’ Something me and your uncle would say to each other.”

He nodded before lowering the collar of his shirt to show that his neck has the initials “BFL.”

My breath caught in my lungs before squeaking, “Why do you have that?”

Courage looked at me. “Unc always told me that he and I were more like brothers than uncle and nephew because my ma had me so young. He told me that we would be brothers for life no matter what. I got this tat when I was sixteen when I knew I wanted to follow his footsteps.”

“Your mother doesn’t want you in the Desire.”

“Kind of hypocritical of Ma, don’t you think? I know she and my uncle have done things I’d rather not know in our family's name. But seeing the power and respect they both yield by simply being, it is hard not to want that admiration. When you live and breathe this world...when everyone you know is in the game, how could she expect me to be any different?” He looked away and then back at me. “Then to know that one of the toughest, most powerful men in this city is my father and that my mother still loves you is the nail in the coffin for me...maybe wrong choice of words.”

“That’s what your mother is afraid of, what I am now afraid of. Something happening to you.”

Courage swung his arm across the back of the chair and, matter of factly, said, “I’m a nineteen-year-old black man. I may be light-skinned with blue eyes on a clear day, but I’m still a threat to most of this country whether I ever commit a crime or choose to be square. I can get killed just by walking out that door. Or I can live to be old and gray. No one really knows. The way I figure I’d rather be in control of my destiny and make decisions for myself. People are going to use and buy drugs whether I sell them or not.

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