My Mother's Boyfriend

36- The Hunt Is On

Alejandro

Cristo! (Christ)

Crumpling the paper in my hand, I let it drop onto the porcelain floor beneath me, my mind spinning. Marcus is right, I am getting soft. Paolo and Angelo pinned me with their stern expressions, slight furrows between their eyebrows.

My jaw works overtime and hard. My breathing is slow and controlled, but it’s a hard task at the moment when my brain is going into a violent mode.

Three others were also in the room. Gabby and mama were seated on the office sofa while Peter stood by the door. I am seated next to my sister. Angelo on his chair behind his desk which used to be our father’s and Paolo by his side. We are all inside the main office at home.

Also, I was the only one who said, "Let's get him cleaned up.”

Who is this he, you ask? One of our workers- an inside job.

We’d just been hit. And it’s the third time in the past couple of weeks. But unlike now, they were nothing major, just some powder was taken from one of our warehouses but it’s by someone we know. That much was clear.

But we made no major fuss because we figured the workers needed the extra high or cash as a bonus or whatever. A few days back we installed a couple of cameras and caught Jon red-handed, but we still left him alone.

“He has a family, you know.” That is what I told Angelo.

But this time it was more. Way more.

And he left a s**t confession and apology letter, written almost illegible indicating his state of high, on the back of a flyer of a missing dog.

‘Paul-’ it’s what most people call Paolo- ‘hey man, sorry about this. It’s me, Jon. I just took some and I will pay you back one day. I promise man. We tight.’

The thing is, Jon made it as if he just took enough for a tiny party but no- he stole a noticeable amount of our supply. Little in the general sense si, but big for one person to steal from their bosses. Jon also owes us an amount of cash but a fraction in street value, if compared to what he stole.

You don’t steal from the mafia. That’s punishable by death. See, we treat our own as family. We care- if you need money, we give you money. With exceptions; like gambling debt. Which is what he owes. Jon is also an addict that we caught taking a sniff here and there, while he worked, which is a big ‘never to do’ while in the warehouse checking weight right, but we left him alone because we knew it was for his personal use and not being sold for profit, out of our pockets.

Stealing is punishable by our law with death. But I said let’s get him cleaned up.

Angelo flips me a cigarette after lighting it and taking a drag. He knows I dislike it, but I figured he knew I could use one right now.

It’s the Maya effect. She’s never once mentioned to me that she does not like my violent life and that I should change. Never. Nor has she ever seen me or any of my family members in any acts of bloodshed but her.

I am- softening.

It’s her. She softened me with all that- my mouth curls in disgust. Kissing and feeling. Why and how had I allowed her to make me into this pile of...mush? I am a ruthless member of high rank for one of the most prominent mafias in the world.

I motion for the astray and Angelo brings it to me. He might be the eldest, but he always waits for Paolo and me, to have a say, especially after that stunt accusation he threw on me three days back, concerning Aldo.

“Don’t misinterpret my words. Let's find the bastard.” I nod my head, jaw clenching when the room makes quick movements after my words.

*

That night, I tell Maya to leave me alone when she greets me with those happy-go-lucky eyes. I am mafia, I remind myself. I am hard. Cold-hearted. Unfeeling. Austere.

The hunt begins that night, led by Paolo and some men. Jon’s house was abandoned, Paolo informed us when he returned. His wife and kids are clueless as well. At least that was the story Jon’s wife gave Angelo, via phone. “Leave us alone Angelo, we want nothing to do with you or your dirty family,” she had screamed hysterically before hanging up.

Tomorrow, we go to his mother-in-law's house, Angelo instructed us because that was where Jon’s wife and kids are.

By morning, me and my other brothers join in, and Angelo is torn.

He should be being ruthless towards Jon’s family, but Angelo isn’t. He’s conflicted. Jon’s family should be punished according to our customs, but we also take into consideration that he and his wife separated a week before she said. There is no way to prove it, however.

Gabriella always stays away from this part. While she is not afraid of blood, she prefers to not be part of it.

Should we believe Jon’s wife or was this part of their plan? For Jon to sell out merchandise and take her and the kids away when he has enough? We needed paperwork. House, licence, marriage certificate- everything. Up to the children’s school, we will search for records and information.

Hearing a sound from upstairs, Peter who is already on the narrow, white-painted staircase, bolts up while Jon’s wife drops to the floor of her kitchen, her hand covering her mouth. “Well, well, what have we here?” Angelo pulls out a chair and takes a seat as he questions Jon’s wife.

She is shaking like a leaf. Robert goes up after Peter, gun also wielded. The other two men stand their ground at the base of the steps, guns pointed upwards at what I could only assume is the hallway.

“You were so confident on the phone yesterday. Where’s all the bravery now?” Angelo questions the woman.

“I’m sorry, I was scared,” she sniffs out.

“Scared? You disrespected me and my family. Do you know what happens when you disrespect us?”

She shakes her head no.

“You fcuking- better hope we don’t catch him b*tch.” Thomas is a bit trigger-happy- did I mention this before? He points his Glock at the woman’s head, hand on the trigger, excited and waiting for Angelo to approve it with a nod. “Easy Thomas,” our eldest brother hisses at him and Thomas frowns deeply.

“But the b*tch lied,” Thomas is disappointed and agitated too. He backs away from the wife but points to the other kids now who are also cowering near their mother. The barely grey-haired wrinkled woman who was in the middle of making breakfast in her parent’s home when we intruded, holds her head, inarticulately making sounds.

How do I tell Thomas, that his language is irritating me? When will he learn to handle his emotions? He operates like a thirteen-year-old sometimes.

“You do know what happens when you steal from us right?” Paolo takes his shot at baiting the whimpering woman.

“Whatever our father did, we had nothing to do with it.” The lanky boy says his bit, his voice clearly in the puberty embarrassing stage.

“We shall see,” This comes from Angelo, who is wearing the most relaxed expression. But I know my brother. He is a bit like Thomas- a little more on the violent side rather than with guns. Angelo would prefer to watch a man bleed to death by his own hands, so I figure this is why he is hesitant with Jon’s wife.

She is a female. In our line of work, we mostly deal with men.

Another thing about Angelo; if he does use a gun- it's to pummel you with it. He says bullets are too noisy and takes away the fun.

Why would Jon take this chance with his family?

A thud is heard coming from upstairs and all of us raise our guns and point at the top of the stairs, including Thomas, who then remembers his target and returns to his former position. The teenage girl starts talking incoherently then when the gun is pointed at their mother once more and Thomas shouts, “Cállate la boca!” (shut your mouth) to which she bends her head lower and whimpers like the other two.

The boy grows quiet, and I catch him staring at the table.

Only then I notice the fourth plate the wife had placed out. What a joke Jon had to be, to steal from the mafia and then sit for breakfast the next day. Had he not fought one time with his wife, we would never have known about this place. Whenever they fought, she would take the kids and come here to her mother’s house. But the mother is dead now. So, the fourth plate could not be hers- my phone rings.

It’s Maya. ‘Wife’ shows up on my screen, but I decline the call. She calls again and Thomas turns up his upper lip. I do not look at the other four men because I know they will have the same expression as my youngest brother. They all know, it’s her. Had it been mama or Gabby, I would have taken it. Had it been one of my men I would have taken it. And my other brothers are here with me in the room.

Because I know the call holds no importance, I decline it again, focusing in on the son-of-a b*tch that would be descending the stairs any second now.

Ah. I see bare legs stumbling down the narrow staircase with black boots and black trousers close behind. I know Peter’s feet.

The man is not Jon.

But Peter still has the man come down with his hands up, his gun pointed at the back of his head. Robert is behind them.

“Ladilla!” (crab- but it’s slang for when someone is extremely annoying) Thomas drops his hands to the sides, scoffing as he looks at the man making his way down, that he could see through the open archway that separated the kitchen from the living room of the small house.

“Who the f**k is this now?” Paolo spat out but more to himself, giving the woman an incredulous look.