For Another Weather
1603 Words
‘Georgie, you okay?’
I thought he had fallen asleep while hugging me. That really would be embarrassing, and also exhausting.
He let go of me, ‘Lazio, man, where have you been? I haven’t seen you full two years.’
I was quite surprised, ‘You didn’t know? Really?’
I knew that he knew. I knew he was keeping tabs on him for these years. But he tried to deny, ‘No man, after the mishap, I never saw you. Father went to jail, mother was alone and weeping all day, and I was too busy to keep in contact. You know, I am an executive now. Executive of the Renovese Incorporated.
So finally, grandpa believed in him? That was good news, a very good news indeed. I was always happy for him.
He forced me, ‘So, where were you all day?’
I never tried hiding, ‘I work in the bureau. Suspended recently, still this is the job I have.’
He was genuinely surprised, ‘My god! You of all people, Il pugnale, went in with the law? Damn, man, damn!’
Was it a tone of amusement, or a harsh disgust? I couldn’t say.
I looked at him, ‘So, how are everyone there?’
He fell into my words, ‘Why ask, you dimwit? It’s your home, you are welcome, anytime.’
I could see some hesitation in his face, ‘What’s wrong, Georgie?’
He sighed, ‘Nothing, you will see.’
I saw George getting hesitant rarely. What could be the reason?
We got out from the bar. He wanted to call a taxi.
I laughed, ‘Hey brat, I got a car. Take the key, you drive.’
He looked at me, ‘Did you take bribe a lot?’
We both laughed, it was great to meet him after two years.
George never had steady hands after drinks. I could remember, we used to sneak out from the house at night. George was close to mother, he used to convince mother, to get the key of any car father had. George would drive to the bar, and after a wasted night, I would drive back, return the key to mother, and we would pretend that nothing happened. The times weren't ideal, but they were worth cherishing.
We drove past the Dixton Springs park. It was a really hectic day. But as they say, evening is the time to burn the morning aside.
We reached the mansion. It was as it was before two years. I hadn’t had the time to come to this side of the city. The mansion always looked glamorous in dark.
George went to park the car; I was standing alone in front of the front door. It was quite awkward, although it was my home.
A guy in suit came to me, ‘Excuse me, who are you?’
I could assume that he was assigned to the security at the gates, ‘Uh, I am a friend of George.’
The man sighed, ‘Sir, would you mind standing here for a second?’
George came a minute later, ‘Hey Lazio, why are you standing here?’
The man said, ‘Sir George, Don Renovese is in a meeting. He said not to bring any stranger or any close friend today. I think you forgot that.’
The man insisted, ‘Sir, if you like, I can escort you to a taxi.’
Grandpa had his unique way to be safe, and it was effective.
George loved, ‘You moron, he is Lazarus, Il pugnale.’
The man was surprised, and afraid all of a sudden, ‘I am extremely sorry, sir Lazarus.’
He opened the door, and was really ashamed. It was strange.
Walking past the door, I asked, ‘What the hell was that?’
George laughed, ‘Remember the thanksgiving? You went to sleep early. Grandpa assigned the security unit that day. He specifically said that no one except two people were allowed to meet him anytime. One was mother, Il fiore, and another was you, Il pugnale. And in spite of you leaving, he never changed the rule, ever.’
He knew I would come one day. That old man was surely the don.
We went to our old room, it was the same, except a little organized.
I was impressed, ‘You surely made your way through, Georgie.’
He laughed, ‘And how messy are you now?’
A lady came to our room, quite suddenly.
She looked at me, I couldn’t remember the face.
She asked, ‘Hey George, where does aunt Florence put her makeups?’
I knew what George would say, ‘Nowhere. She doesn’t do makeups.’
She nodded, ‘Who is this guy? Your friend? Introduce me to him, will you?’
I stood up before George revealed too much, ‘Hello, I am Ephron, an old friend of George.’
George looked at me. I shortly nodded to assure him.
The girl came near me, ‘Hello, Ephron. I am Vanessa, cousin of him.’
Man, every woman in this house was always insane.
She sat near me, ‘So, how stupid are you in the George scale?’
That was a funny term. If I judged myself in the George scale, my IQ would be climbing on four digits.
George asked, ‘Vanessa, would you give my guest a rest?’
Apparently, she wasn’t in the mood of rest, ‘Aunt Florence called you out for dinner. Take our guest too, aunt loves guests.’
I looked at George, he knew I didn’t want to meet mother, after what happened between us.
George stepped up to stabilize the situation, ‘No worries. Vanessa, you come with me to the dinner table. I don’t think it’s a good idea bringing outsiders in our family table. I'll tell Francis to get Ephron something to eat.’
George was becoming mature. It felt good, really good.
They left the room. I was alone, all over again. And this was an awkward loneliness. It was the perfect time to sneak around.
I slowly got out of the room. The environment here was same as it was back then.
I knew where the meeting room was. I walked past the hall room. I knew it would be quite empty.
I could see the meeting room from the end of hall room. And obviously, some guards from security unit. They wouldn’t be happy seeing me, and they certainly wouldn’t be willing to watch me walk past them in there. But I was twice the stubborn, I had nothing to lose.
I went near the meeting room. A guard came to me, ‘Excuse me, who are you?’
I replied with direct approach, ‘I came to meet Don Renovese.’
He frowned, ‘And you think anyone can come up here and meet him?’
I had to use the rule, ‘You can tell me that Il pugnale is here.’
He was speechless for a while, ‘Il pugnale?’
I had no word for this worthless guard, I walked past him anyway, and opened the door.
I didn’t expect any type of serious meeting. But I could say, that was serious.
I could see grandpa sitting on his big chair, he maybe hadn’t grown a bit since I saw him last. There were some people in suit, I could assume they were lawyers and big-time businessmen, or they could be any representative of the cartels.
Grandpa looked at me, I knew he would recognize me, ‘Lazio, it’s a surprise. I hoped to see you soon. But not so soon.’
He looked at the people, ‘Sorry folks, let's wrap it up for now. I've got visitor.’
A guy in pale white suit frowned at me, ‘With all due respect, Don, cartel really thanks you for your support. But this was an important discussion. Can your visitor wait?’
I remembered this guy, Ramsey Perez. He was with the Brazilian cartel. This guy was one heck of a pain. The memory wasn’t great.
Grandpa laughed, ‘Okay, then you should meet the visitor. Meet my grandson, Lazarus, some of you know him as Il pugnale.’
Perez stood up, some stood up with him. I couldn’t assume whether they really knew me or not. Who would even care?
Perez forwarded his right hand, ‘It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Lazarus.’
Sarcasm all over again! If I had a nickel for every sarcasm I faced, I would have my own cartel.
I returned the courtesy and shook his hand, ‘Always a pleasure, Mr. Perez. And yes, no hard feelings.’
He laughed, ‘We work in a fragile line of business. Sentiments are considered to be a pushback here.’
He took his suitcase, ‘It was pleasure, Don. I hope to see you next week.’
Grandpa nodded; the suited people went out.
I was alone again, with the Don Renovese, one of the most influential figure in underworld history, and he was my grandpa.
He showed me a chair in front of him, I took a seat.
He asked, ‘So, they interrogated you?’
I nodded. It wouldn’t be a surprise if he had men inside the FBI.
He threw another one, ‘And what did you say?’
I sighed, ‘I played safe. I said I found out about your business before I ratted your people out. No details yet.’
He smiled, ‘Ah Lazio, you know you would make a great don. You have the ability to drag all the America down, you could stab the states slowly and enjoy the blood flow. You are a picturized control of bloodlust, my son. And I never regret naming you Il pugnale.’
I stared at him, ‘But I regret having that name. And you know that.’
He laughed, ‘Well, someone has to get that name, mio ragazzo. Not all people have the courage to rat out his own father.’
Oh man! I was already regretting coming back here.
- Writer
