I’ve already given Mr. Ferrano half the money and will be paying him back the rest in another week.
The flashbacks continue as I head home. Me and my brother with just two suitcases worth of our own stuff heading into our new place. That’s all we took from that filthy shithole. The rest of it went to the dump, not that there was much – she’d sold anything that had any worth. That piece of shit engagement ring wasn’t on her finger when I found her dead. Either she pawned it, or he took it after he killed her.
I get to my new building and head to the second-floor apartment. This place smells a lot better than the building we grew up in, but my goal is to get completely out of this hood in the next couple years.
We only stayed in that guest room at the Ferranos’ for a week and then I moved us here. Mr. Ferrano suggested this building and his housekeeper introduced us to an older lady that lives next door who babysits for me.
Mrs. Mustaine looks after Willie whenever I need her. She’ll also pretend to be his foster mother to the school when needed. So far after just a couple weeks, Mrs. Mustaine is a better mother-figure to him than our mother ever was.
Mr. Ferrano offered us the option to stay with them, be part of their family, but I told him I appreciated this but was ready to be a man, wanted my own place. I think he respects that. He joked that his two daughters didn’t want me as a brother, anyhow – that they both had crushes on me so maybe someday I’d be part of their family anyway.
I won’t take that bait, knowing in my gut that though Tom Ferrano is an excellent ally to have, I don’t want to be groomed by him or further indebted.
Talking to Nino and Tino just a day before my mother got killed while we were having beers, they talked about the pressure on Tom’s sons being heavy. He’s a powerful man with high expectations so while they live in that big house, Tommy has a nice car, and they’ve both got stacks of cash in their pockets, they also work their asses off and deal with a lot of bullshit. Expectations for them are high from their old man.
I’ve spent my life without a father, with no decent father figures beyond Willie’s dad, and have no burning desire to follow in anyone’s footsteps. I already know I want to make my own tracks. I’ve been respectful every time Dario’s father offers me any advice, and he’s often helped me, but I’m set on doing things my way. I don’t want more debts than necessary, but the kind of help he’s given to me, I’ll be in debt with him anyway.
He offered money to get us set up in this apartment, but it wasn’t necessary; I’d been saving. I asked if he could give me any advice to keep Child Protective Services off our backs and he told me he’d already greased a palm, but wouldn’t let me pay him back for that.
I told the Ferranos from night one that it had to be Max, and I wanted to get my hands on him. They knew that night when I emerged from their guest room after getting Willie to sleep that I would not rest until Max paid.
It’s been a busy four weeks, settling into a new routine, trying to take care of Willie not just with the necessities of life but being there for him, too. And despite that I’ve had all that going on, I was looking for Max every chance I got.
When I finally walk into my place, I grab a hot shower before I head down the hall to get Willie from Mrs. Mustaine who happily took him when I got the call to meet the guys. On my way there, I drop my bloody sweatshirt down the garbage chute.
She opens her door and tells me it’s okay, he’s sound asleep in her spare room and she’ll take him to school in the morning. I go home and grab his backpack and another change of clothes for her and thank her for her help.
She looks at me with a sad smile, almost like she can guess what kind of a night I’ve had.
“Do you want something to eat? I made some soup. Baked some cookies.”
“Thanks anyway, Mrs. M. I’ll pick Willie up from school and stay in with him tomorrow night.”
“Okay, Killian. I’m here if you need me.” She pats my arm.
“Thanks, Mrs. M,” I say and walk back to my place with a hollow feeling inside.
As soon as my head hits the pillow, I feel a strange sensation clawing up my throat.