Page 72 of Girth (Marked Skulls MC 1)
“I needed this done yesterday,” he grumbled.
“You should have sent somebody else then. Yesterday I was cleaning up the shit storm at Cavelli’s,” I snapped. Just two days before, some of the Rossi men under my father’s instructions had turned over a local grocery store. Mario Cavelli was delayed in making some payments that he owed my father.
“You didn’t need to fucking do that. You’re not his mother,” dad snapped. He’d started walking away and I followed him.
“He was going to call the cops on us! Someone from the family needed to go there and appease him,” I thundered. Dad stopped in his tracks and turned to me. I could see the rage bubbling under the surface.
“You think we can’t handle a few lousy cops?” he hissed.
“We need to stop drawing attention to our business,” I replied, trying to keep calm.
“You’re just a little pussy. My son, the little pussy!” he raged.
I clenched my fists on my sides. Hearing your own father calling you a pussy was not a great way to start the day.
“I’m the only one thinking clearly here,” I grunted. If this was anybody but my father, he would have a bleeding nose and a punctured stomach by now.
“You’re the only one too afraid to get the job done. That is what the truth is,” he snapped.
“Make me in-charge of some of the operations. Let me figure out how we can keep rolling in money so that nobody gets hurt,” I tried. I needed him to see reason. This wasn’t just a screaming match to me.
“Make you in-charge?” he scoffed. “You! In-charge of my operations!”
“It’s a family business remember? I should have some role to play in this too,” I hissed.
He flipped away from me again. I wasn’t about to give up. I kept following him as he entered the barely constructed structure.
“Dad! You need to give me some responsibilities. I’m not going to be the errands-boy anymore. I refuse to do that shit!” I growled after him.
He stopped again. This time he only looked over his shoulder, refusing to turn to look at me fully.
“As long as you are a pussy, that’s all you’ll be. An errands boy. Grow a pair of balls, son, and then we can talk,” he roared.
I could feel the cold heavy metal of the gun. It was stuffed in my belt on my side. It would only take me a second to reach for it and shoot a bullet through his back.
Then what would that make me? A man who killed his father.
I glared at him while he walked away. Quickly resuming the hushed conversation with the contractor again.
My father didn’t trust me. He didn’t think I was worthy of handling responsibilities. He thought I was a fucking coward!
I stormed out of the structure, heading for my car again.
How long was this going to go on? How long was I going to be pushed to the sidelines while my family continued to carry on violent atrocities? I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t fucking ask for a life of crime. This was what I was born in, and I wanted out.
I sat in my car and looked over at the construction site.
The first man I killed was when I was just twenty. I’d done it to please my father. To prove to him that I could do it. That I could be just as much of a man as he was. Back then, I still wanted to prove myself to him.
The violence and the crime had continued. I got better at it. I got better at hurting people. By now, everyone who knew the Rossi family knew what I was capable of.
But I didn’t know if I was capable of it anymore.
I’d seen too many broken families. I’d been the cause of many of them.
And what for?
So our family could make more money? Grow richer?
If it was just about laundering money and beating the system, it wouldn’t be such a problem for me. The problem was that people were getting hurt because my father was greedy. Because he already had power over people and he wanted to keep it that way.
Then my mind drifted to Kennedy. Who I’d left sleeping on my bed earlier. What did she think of me? Had she seen the violence and corruption in my eyes?
I’d left that note for her on a whim. I’d invited her to dinner. I didn’t even know if she was going to turn up.
She didn’t know what I was involved in. She knew nothing about my life. The lie I’d told her about my granddad being sick was eventually going to come out, if I spent any more time with her.
Maybe I shouldn’t go to dinner?
Maybe I should cancel?
But then I realized that I didn’t have her number. I had no way of contacting her. And I wasn’t going to keep a lady waiting. I wasn’t going to stand her up.
Chapter 8
Kennedy
I was nervous when I got out of the cab outside Luigi’s. I didn’t know what to expect.
Was I overdressed? Was this even a date? Had Nico changed his mind? I had no way of reaching him. What if he was going to stand me up?
He didn’t exactly have the best track record of showing up or keeping his word. I was anxious to see him again though, nervous about how I looked.
When I stepped into the restaurant, I saw him immediately. He’d picked the best table in the place, right by the bay windows and romantically set up. This was beginning to feel more and more like a date every second.
I didn’t feel overdressed when I walked into the place. It was a sophisticated Italian restaurant, teeming with well-dressed people. Nico was in a casual suit today, forgoing the tie. And he looked handsome. He was the hottest guy in the entire establishment.
The hostess led me to the table and I followed her. Nico stood up when he saw me approaching. I noticed the way his eyes swept over me. This dress was a good choice. I could see that he was pleased with what he saw.
He was quick to pull out my chair and I sat down.
“You look beautiful, Kennedy,” were his first words. I tried not to blush.
Nico was being the perfect gentleman and I was determined to behave like a lady too. And not the giddy immature girl I’d been the previous evening.
“You clean up well yourself, Nico,” I told him but he didn’t pay much heed to my compliment.
“I’ll order the wine,” he stated and indicated to a waiter who turned up at his side instantly. I heard him place the order, he sounded grumpy. It seemed like he knew what he was doing though. I was more of a beer-drinker myself but it seemed like wine would be the ideal choice in a place like this.
When the waiter left, Nico finally looked at me and smiled.
“I wasn’t sure if you saw the note or if you were going to turn up tonight,” he told me.
His eyes kept drifting to my plunging neckline. I felt naked under his gaze…naked in a good way. My body seemed to be electrically charged at all times. Every time his eyes fell on me, I felt a little spark go off.
“Would you just have had dinner by yourself if I didn’t show up?” I asked and Nico shrugged softly.
“I eat alone here all the time,” he stated.
There was that threat again. He’d said it in a way like he was trying to tell me that he didn’t need me. He was fine by himself. I ignored that nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach and I smiled instead.
“It’s a lovely place. I can’t wait to try some of the seafood linguine.”
Nico was staring at me, like he was undressing me with his eyes. He wasn’t trying to hide the fact that he wanted me. That he had a very specific plan in his mind for us tonight.
The waiter returned with the bottle of wine, which Nico approved of. I waited till the wine was poured in our glasses and the man had left, before I spoke again.
“Where did you disappear to this morning? You work on Sundays?”
Nico sipped his wine expertly and picked up the menu.
“I work every day,” he replied curtly.
“You must be a very busy man,” I said. His eyes were flitting over the menu. It was almost like he wasn’t conscious of my presence at the table. There was a
change in him tonight.
I’d noticed the previous night, those flashes of a troubled man underneath the surface. Tonight however, those flashes were on full display. He seemed to be in a bad mood.
“It’s a family business, which means I’m on call all the time,” Nico replied and put down the menu.
It seemed as though every time we tried to speak about his work, Nico closed himself off.
“Are you having the seafood linguine too?” I asked chirpily, trying to brighten the mood.
“I’ll have the Marinara Risotto,” he said casually.
“Nico, is something bothering you?” I asked. He seemed unhappy about everything.
“Why do you say that?” he asked.
“You don’t seem present. You’re not really here. You don’t seem like you’re happy that we’re having dinner together,” I spoke quickly. I didn’t want to argue with him. That was the last thing I wanted, but I didn’t want to feel like he was doing me a favor either.
