Page 11 of Forgetting the Enemy
“Thanks, Sal. We all knew our purpose. The boys covered while I took care of Alberto and Victor. We’ve got good men who work for us, men we can count on,” I reply.
“Yes, we do.” He turns toward my father. “Dom, you wanted to see me?”
“Yes. Tell Francesca we are on a high-security alert until further notice. Nobody leaves without permission from you or Michael. Talk to Alex and Gina too.”
“Yes, sir,” Sal replies. “Is that all?”
“No,” my father says. “I want you to put together a meet between all the capos—today. I’m making a change.”
“A change?” I ask.
Sal looks at him curiously, but I think he knows what my father is up to. There isn’t much my father does that Sal isn’t privy to. “You sure you’re ready to do that tonight?” Sal asks.
“Yes, make it right before dinner. That way, we can finish the meeting and they can go home and have dinner with their families.” He pauses and then asks, “You having dinner with us tonight?”
“Sure. Teresa is still at her mom’s with the kids. I’d love some of Di’s cooking.”
My father nods.
“Is that all?” Sal asks.
“For now. But stay close,” Pop says, and Sal turns toward the door. “When does Teresa return?”
Turning back, he replies, “Day after tomorrow.”
“You might want to move Teresa and the girls into the big house until this blows over. I don’t expect any retaliation, but I don’t want to be careless either. Make sure all the capos and soldiers are on alert.”
“Will do.”
Sal and his family live on our property but have their own separate residence. OurProprietá Terriera de Vitali—also known asthe compound, as we usually refer to it—encompasses roughly eighty-nine acres of land off the North Shore of Long Island. The big house is where I live with my younger siblings, Alex and Gina, and our parents. Gina is your typical sixteen-year-old. She’s caught between wanting to be a grown-up and holding on to her childhood. Sometimes it’s difficult to deal with her teenage antics, but I am confident this is just an adolescence issue and she will mature into a mature young lady. Well, one can only hope.
Alex is twenty-five, four years my junior. He is third in command of the family, directly under me. Alex is a good man, and I’ll take him as my wingman any day. He’s a bit more reactive than I am, but between the two of us, we make a good mix.
“Go check on Zaira,” my father says. “Call Vince and let him know she is here and that she is safe. Whatever care she requires, son, you make sure she gets it.” He pauses briefly. “Make sure you are at the meeting this afternoon.”
“Okay, Pop. I’ll report back shortly,” I reply and turn to leave.
Just as I am about to walk out the door, my father calls back to me, “Mikey, remember what I said. And don’t forget, no matter how this plays out,sono veramente orgoglioso di te.” Nothing means more to me than to hear him say he’s proud of me, no matter what.
“I know, Pop. I know.” I turn back toward the door. After walking through, I close the door behind me.
***
Zaira Bonita is beyond beautiful. She is the crowning jewel of the Bonita family. It has always pissed me off that her father never treated her like she deserves. She was used and abused by him. He took and took from her until there was nothing left but the shell of a woman going through the motions like he expected of her. He never took her seriously, despite the fact that she is a very smart, strong, and brave woman.
As my father stated, Zaira and I grew up together. Our families used to be close, and Vince, Zaira, Alex, and I were inseparable for a long time—well, up until five years ago. That’s when everything changed. I’d like to think those accusations wouldn’t have been believed by our closest friends and it wouldn’t change things between us all, but we’ve been so far out of touch for so long now, I really don’t know. When Vince and I talked a couple weeks ago, it wasn’t like old times and more like we were nothing but associates.
Everything fell apart when Zaira’s mother was murdered five years ago. Zaira was nineteen, and I was twenty-five. The last time my family was ever invited into the Bonita home was the day of Maria Bonita’s funeral. It started out like any other normal day in which you would attend a funeral. After the service, everyone was invited over to the Bonita home. Every member of the five families was there to pay their respects. It was a sad day in our world. Yes, murder and mayhem happened all the time, but when a woman was involved, especially the wife of a Don, it was crippling and devastating.
***
Five years ago…
Zaira Bonita is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, even at nineteen. She has reddish-auburn hair that rests on her shoulders in soft silky curls and brown eyes with sparkling flecks of amber that I swear can literally see directly into my soul. Every time she looks at me, I feel undone and vulnerable yet at the same time complete and whole. I know that doesn’t make any fucking sense, but it’s how this woman makes me feel. I’m falling in love with her and falling hard.
And then there are her curves; holy fuck, they’re fucking perfect. Many times I think about having her moan beneath me as I claim her body, her calling out my name, begging for more. There has always been a general understanding between our families with their hopes for a marriage between the two of us. For now, we’re just friends, but it doesn’t mean I don’t think about her being my wife someday.
Her smile is infectious and brightens any room, but that isn’t the case that today.
