Chapter 22: Chapter 22

Oscar Barrone sits at a table in the backyard of his massive Staten Island home that sits on the edge of a small lake. There are four other homes that share access to it and a large gate wraps around the entire block that can likely fit ten apartment buildings in the space.

The cast around my arm and hand is finally off after weeks of recovery. The bruises on my face are long gone and haven’t returned in a while. For three months, I went back and forth from Kings to Cedar Bailey Hospital.

There’s a woman that Dimitri uses. Twyla. She’s massive and isn’t squeamish of the sounds of bones breaking. She takes a great deal of joy in what she does. I used to take joy in having her inflict that kind of pain on me. It took me three months to figure out, my heart wasn’t in it anymore. I kept going back for more, hoping the outcome would change.

I miss Lia.

I understand her choice and I understand her leaving, but I just wish she wouldn’t have left me.

‘If you’re gonna sulk all fucking day, go home, Valley,’ my father says, his gruff voice cutting into my thoughts.

‘I’m not sulking Pop,’ I tell him.

Oscar Barrone looks like me, thirty years older with a horseshoe balding pattern across his head. He weighs a bit more and hovers around my height as he puffs on a cigar while we sit outside, watching turtles play in the pond.

This is his life as a retired don. He’s never really out of the life. He just deals with older guys who aren’t in but wish they still could be. This is a young man’s game. Even though I feel my age now and then. It doesn’t help that my body doesn’t heal back to 100 percent like it did in my twenties.

‘You are sulking. Are you still nursing that broken heart like you’re nursing that beer? If you’re not drinking it, don’t waste it. Pass it here,’ he says with a chuckle.

I slide the beer across the table just as his wife, Shayla, and Cecilia come out to join us. Shayla walks around the table toward me, leaning down, and she hugs me.

‘Don’t baby him. He’s a grown man, Shay,’ Pop argues while drinking my beer.

‘How are you holding up, Valentino?’ she asks me with a warm smile.

‘I’m good, Ma. I swear,’ I tell her and hold up my arm to show the cast is off.

‘Good. You hungry? I cooked.’

‘You always cook.’ I laugh. ‘But yeah, I can eat. Armande’s on his way too.’

‘Good, that means nothing will go to waste.’ Shayla grins as she turns to grab food off an outdoor kitchen setup. There’s a tiled island with a built-in grill and pizza oven that I’m sure they never use.

She begins setting down tray after tray of food and I can’t imagine how many people she thought she was feeding. However, I notice something’s going on between the three of them.

Cecilia, her mother, and my father are all communicating with their eyes, with Cecilia stealing a glance at me every so often.

‘What is it?’ I ask them.

‘Nothing, sweetie,’ Shayla replies too quickly.

‘Y’all are conspiring about something. Spit it out.’ My words are laced with warning because I will leave if they spring an unwanted surprise on me.

‘We have someone coming over,’ Shayla blurts out.

‘Oh for the love of Christ. Shay, I told you to stop babying him. Hera’s coming. There. It’s out in the open. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you earlier, but she’s coming,’ Pop spits out with exasperation.

I can feel a twitch under my eye that makes me want to hit something. ‘Why?’

It’s the only word I can think of.

‘She’s in a bind and needs some help.’ Shayla’s voice leaves so much context out.

Cecilia rolls her eyes and she’s clearly not on board, but she didn’t warn me either.

‘So help her and leave me out of it,’ I tell them. ‘If you want to let that vampire vulture sink her teeth into your sanity, that’s on you. Leave me out of it.’

‘Valentino.’ The strictness in Shayla’s voice is one I haven’t heard since my teenage years. She’s the mother I want, the only one I’ve ever needed, and letting that biological sack of shit into this place of tranquility irritates me. However, I won’t disrespect Shayla.

‘Yes, Ma.’

‘She’s a broken woman who’s made some bad choices in her life. Please, just hear her out. Okay?’ Shayla’s request draws a simple nod from me, and I sit there quietly, waiting for the typhoon of a disaster that birthed me.

It doesn’t take long and I see why they gave me the heads up. It’s not even ten minutes before a woman comes prancing around the large house toward us. She’s in skintight pants, an obnoxiously loud print designer blouse, smoking a cigarette from one of those long cigarette holders.

Cecilia’s had enough. ‘Oh for crying out fuckin’ loud. I’m not sitting through this shit.’

She storms off and I should follow her, but Hera will follow the both of us like a black cloud if I’m the one she’s here to see.

She’s not just in a bind. If I’m here, she wants money.

‘Oh my goodness, would you look at my sonny boy all grown up and so handsome,’ Hera squeals as she sashays her way over to the table.

Pop growls and sips his beer, turning his back to the Hera.

‘Come on, Valentino, come give your mother a hug or something.’ Hera opens her arms wide and I push myself up from the table. I deliberately walk over to Shayla and wrap my arms around her, kissing her on the side of the temple.

‘What the fuck do you want?’ I snarl at the woman. I told Lia the short version, but the long one starts when the woman who brought me into this world walked out on me. She abandoned her son, her husband, left us and there was no pain painful enough to erase what she’s done to me.

I despise her and love Shayla even more because she truly believes Hera can be a decent person. I know better.

‘Is that how you talk to your mother?’ Hera asks.

‘No, it’s not, but it’s how I talk to you. You’ve manipulated your way onto this property to get a meeting with me. Next time, make an appointment at the office.’ I tell her, walking over to the cooler. This time I grab a beer and gulp it down.

‘I tried, but every time I called and gave my name, they said you didn’t have anything available,’ Hera says.

I grin at my security measures in place. Protecting my peace and sanity.

‘Then,’ Hera continues, ‘I even tried giving a fake name, but when I showed up for the appointment, security practically tackled me and escorted me out of the building. So as you can see, I had to seek alternative methods.’

‘No, that means give up. That means I don’t want to see you. You know what that sounds like. That sounds like exactly what you said to your ten-year-old son who caught three Greyhound buses to find you in Chicago, living with another family that you’ve had the entire time. That sounds like the doorman of that Chicago high-rise escorting me out of the building and then threatening to break my kneecaps if I ever bothered Mrs. Catania ever again.’

‘I’m sorry, Valley,’ Hera says.

Before she can say anything else, I hurl the beer bottle at the tiled island, shattering it and scaring everyone but my father. He’s indifferent to my temper, and rightfully so.

Shayla gets up to clean it and I hold my hand up to stop her. ‘Don’t. I’ll do it. Hera, don’t you dare call me that. You need to leave. I don’t have anything for you.’

‘Please, Don Barrone. I’m begging you. This is La Familia business, not just family business.’ Hera pleads and I stop moving toward the mess I just made.

‘What are you talking about?’ I ask her.

Hera shrinks away as she mumbles the words, ‘I need money and a favor.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding me. The set of balls on you.’ I point at her and Pop laughs in agreement with a nod.

‘I told her, Val. But you know your mother, her heart’s in the right place. She believes every sob story, including whatever this strega told her.’

‘I’m no witch, Ozzie⁠—’

My father’s hand comes down on the table hard. ‘He may have a temper, but I have a gun. You’re only here because my wife allows it. You speak to me again like we’re familiar and I’ll put a bullet between your eyes and sink you in the pond while you’re still breathing.’

Pop takes a sip of his beer. His tone is a clear reminder to Hera and Shayla that he used to be Don Barrone. The calmness of his demeanor returns effortlessly as he offers a smile to Shayla with a delicate stroke to the top of his wife’s hand. The love in his eyes is what I miss about Lia. It hurts to think about her, and now with this demon invading my Sunday afternoon, I’m forced to think about what my life is missing.

‘Please, Don Barrone, Vincenzo Catania has been trying his hardest to move to New York since Chicago isn’t safe for him anymore. He takes his frustrations out on me, the woman who gave you life. I need a sanctioned hit against him, and I need ten grand to pay the guy to do it,’ Hera spits out.

That pisses me off.

I can’t stop myself from gripping Hera by her arm, pulling her out of her seat.

Shayla speaks up immediately. ‘Valentino! No.’

I hold my hand up and pat her down to see if she’s wearing a wire.

‘Not only have you violated this household, but you’ve solicited me to pay for a contract killing? Against a made man? Are you fucking delusional?’ I ask Hera. ‘Get the fuck out of here. Out of my sight. You stay away from Shayla, Cecilia, Pop, and me, and anyone related to me. Get the fuck out. NOW!’ I barely recognize the boom of my own voice kicking Hera off the property.

Hera’s shaking with fear as her face reddens with tears before she turns to leave. I wait and watch to make sure she leaves through the gate and not through the house. She’s liable to steal shit too.

I turn to Ma and Pop. ‘Are you fucking kidding me? What the hell did she tell you to weasel her way into Sunday dinner?’

Shayla’s face is buried in her hands as she cries. ‘She said she was moving back to New York with your half-sister who’s pregnant and wanted a reference and down payment on a house. I’m so sorry, Valentino. I didn’t know.’

My shoulders slump and I wonder what angel’s ass did my father have to kiss to land this beautiful woman as a wife. I walk over to her, kneeling beside her to wrap my arms around her torso.

‘You sweet, sweet, gullible woman. I love you. My father doesn’t deserve you.’

‘Ay, I’m right here, Valley,’ Pop says with a snicker and shake of his head.

‘You’re an angel, Ma. I need to get some air,’ I tell her. ‘I’ll be back in a few hours.’

‘We’re already outside, boy.’ Pop calls out after me.

I’m already walking to my car when I see the black SUV pull up at a breakneck speed. Armande hops out just as Hera walks over to a Range Rover. She’s probably lying about why she needs the money anyhow.

‘What the hell is going on?’ I ask Armande, who seems to be out of breath.

‘Why aren’t you picking up your phone?’ he shouts. ‘Lia’s back.’

The words punch me in the face like a freight train.

‘We gotta go,’ Armande says. ‘She’s in labor. She’s having your baby.’

‘There aren’t enough words to make that possible. No. She’s not. She’s not having a baby. She’s not having my baby. She’s not in New York. No. I can’t go through that again.’ I tell him in denial.

Armande grips me by the shoulders and slaps me in the face. ‘Her fucking cousin has been calling around until he finally got a hold of me. Do you know the kinds of people he had to call to find me? This is real, Valley. Let’s go. She’s at Cedar Bailey.’

‘Why didn’t she tell me?’ I ask no one as Armande ushers me into the SUV. I get into the passenger seat where Frankie’s on the speakerphone.

‘Hello? Did you find him? Where is he? He needs to get here now,’ Frankie yells through the speaker.

‘I got him. We’re on our way. Stop yelling at me,’ Armande barks back at the radio before ending the call.

My mind swirls with images of our last night together. I kidnapped her. She punched me in the face. I got her parents into witness protection. And on the day the woman I love is giving birth, my mother shows up. What a fucking day.

We pull up to the hospital and rush into the maternity ward where Frankie is pacing in a hospital gown, scrubs and an assortment of disposable garments over his hair and shoes.

‘I should kill you, Valentino, but now’s not the time. You need to get in there. I’ve been here since last night. I’m strong, I’m buff, I can take dick, but childbirth? No. No. Have you seen what’s going on in there? Thinking about the needles is making me faint—’ He sways and I steady him, just for Frankie to swat my hands away. ‘Don’t hold me. Go hold Lia. That’s not my baby. There is nothing on my bucket list or my calendar that says go help my cousin deliver a baby. How did I sink so far down into this rabbit hole?’

‘Frankie, get it together. I’m going. Who do I need to speak to for this stuff?’ I motion toward his garb.

‘There’s this big girly back there. You can’t miss her. She’s tall, thick, and—’ he turns and points her out. ‘There she goes. Twyla, honey! Here he is. Father of the baby.’

Of course. Of fucking course.

Armande erupts into laughter, collapsing onto a waiting room chair with Frankie eyeing him with confusion.

‘This is quite the development,’ Twyla says with a wide smile. ‘Now all the pieces come together. Come with me, Don Barrone.‘