Black Butterfly

Chapter 17

I just stared at him. "A new what?" 

He smiled. "You got out in ten minutes. It's a new record." 

I closed my eyes and shook my head. "I'm sorry. What the hell  just happened?" 

But Mason's father only picked up the broken chair leg and held it up. "Resourceful. Isn't that what you said Mason?" 

I stared at Mason. "You knew about this?" 

"So did he." Mason said pointing at Nick. My head whipped to him.

"We all knew about it." Nick shot back, giving Mason a look.  

"Are you telling me, that was all a test?" I looked back at Mason's father.

He nodded. 

I laughed, which was clearly not what they were expecting judging by their reactions. I held up my hands, 

"Okay, I'm out of here." I said and started for the front door. 

"Calsy, wait-" Mason started after me. 

"I don't have to do anything." I replied reaching the front door.

"Let me explain." He objected blocking my exit. 

I turned away, "What could you possibly explain to me? You haven't talked to me since Sunday, maybe that should continue." 

He walked toward me, "Calsy, please-"

"Didn't I say those exact words to you? And what did you say back?" I demanded.

"I had too-" He stammered.

"You are a free person Mason, you didn't have to do anything." I spit. 

He was mad now, "Calsy, listen to me right now. I have never been free. Ever." 

I just looked at him. "You seem free enough to do whoever you want."

Mason looked back at the living room and sighed. "Come with me," He said and grabbed my hand. 

"The last time somebody said that, I got locked in a room." 

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he led me up the stairs. When we turned into the hallway he stopped and stared at the door that was currently laying on the tile.

"You did that with a chair leg?" He asked. 

"I broke the handle with the chair. I kicked the door down with my leg." I answered defiantly. Still holding my hand he nodded and we stepped over the door and continued down the hall. Mason led me further down the hall and into a big set of doors at the end. 

When he pulled me inside and shut the door, I crossed my arms. A very small part of me wanted him to explain, but a larger part wanted to slap him. Fortunately for me, the larger half won out. 

"Calsy, I-" I slapped him before he could finish and he rubbed his face. "I guess I deserve that."

"You think?" I hissed.

"I've been an ass lately," 

I snorted at the understatement. 

Mason cleared his throat and went on, "And I'm sorry. For all of it." 

"I don't particularly care Mason. What I want to know is why." 

"I had to distance myself from you. For your safety."

That was the wrong thing to say. "My what? You think I can't handle myself? That I need to be cloistered? Kept safe like some endangered species? Do I look like a f*****g animal to you?" 

"No Calsy," He sighed. "There are people out there who would hurt you to get to us, to me." 

"And why would they use me? I'm nobody to you." 

"That's not true, and even if it was, they wouldn't care. Everyone close to me can be used as leverage in the wrong hands." 

"Including me?" I'm quiet now.

"Including you."

"What wrong hands?" 

"Calsy, there's a lot you don't know about me." 

"Then you better start talking." 

He sighed and pulled out two chairs and gestured for me to take a seat. When I did he breathed and started. 

"Way back in the 1920's, mobs basically ran New York. Luciano, Kelly, Siegel, all of the ones from history. My ancestors were a part of The Five Points, one of the most ruthless mobs in America at the time. For years, they served the worst of them. Fought bloody wars, killed countless men. Robbed and pillaged where and when they were told too. Territory wars and disputes. Men killed over alcohol." 

"Soon my family grew into their own. Stopped listening to the big men. Split into our own game. Started racking up a body count that rivaled the best of them, gun sales went through the roof, we were slowly killing the competition. We were the Cards, the deadliest and most sought after mob in New York. When everyone else had been taken care of, we were the most feared mob in New York. Eventually new generations of mobsters took over."

"They told themselves they wouldn't follow their predecessors in the old ways. They would be better, create a new way of life for those living the life of a gangster."

"But people have different opinions. They argue, and when mobsters argue, well," He laughed, "Bodies wind up on the streets. Ultimately, someone came up with the plan to split into three. Three mobs, three parts of the city, three ways to kill our enemies and be the best."

"My ancestors wanted more though. They didn't want just a small sliver of New York, they wanted a whole city. So they moved out here to California. Brought their followers with them."

"You make it sound like a church." I say. 

"You wish they worshiped God. But they only worshiped their own. Cali was run by a few small gangs, so when we showed up it was nothing to overthrow the existing kings and establish ourselves as leaders. The other two stayed in New York for a while until another followed in our footsteps. Went down to Alabama did the same thing there, until we ruled basically the whole country." 

"I see. And how come I've never heard any of this before? Aren't big gangs supposed to be famous?"

"There's a difference between gangsters and mobsters." Mason said, "Mobsters come from Italy, we have a clear family rule and we don't fly on the radar. We stay hidden, we don't get caught." 

"How do I know you're not lying to me?" I questioned. 

He looked me dead in the eye and said, "That's up for you to decide." 

"Then, I'm guessing you are a part of one of these mobs." I said.

"Wow, what drew you to that conclusion?" 

"Which one are you?" I ask.

"The one that split first. The Black Butterfly."