I walk towards the back of the building, taking in the men working together, counting the crates, checking the logbooks, making sure guns are where they belong, knowing that we’ll be dispersing a few trucks to head into different locations for drop-offs. The men nod or say hello without stopping what they’re doing, knowing that it would be a sign of disrespect. They’re paid handsomely. We’re a family, so to speak; we take care of each other. If Marco were to be sent to prison or be taken away from his wife or kids, they’d be set up for life. No questions asked. They wouldn’t need a fucking thing. It’s been like this since my nonno ran the business. “We take care of one another, and they’ll take care of you,” was his biggest saying.
The door is open when I make my way towards it. I flip a switch, and the lights turns on, flickering when they do.
“Fuck, this is going to be more hassle than it’s worth,” I say to the empty room, knowing that no amount of work will get done, not here with the banging noise in the background. I turn on my heel, turn the light off, pull out my phone, and call my driver.
“Mr. Russo, how may I help you?” Giuseppe answers on the first ring.
“Change of plans. We’re going back to the house. Can you meet me at the door?” I ask him. Marco sees I’m on the phone. My nod tells him everything is okay.
“Of course, sir. I’ll be there in one minute.” I hear the whirr of the engine on the other end. He must not be far at all.
“Thank you, Giuseppe.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Russo.” We hang up, and I look around one more time, knowing that I’m going to have to drag my papa into this as a way of giving him a heads-up before I call Lorenzo’s father, wishing I were able to take care of business firsthand. I rub my hand down my face. It’s going to be another long fucking day and will go well into the night. It’ll be worth it, though, if Dante can sleep through the night.
I walk out of the building. Giuseppe is standing next to the open back passenger door. The Texas sun blazes against my body, letting me know wearing a three-piece suit in the height of summer isn’t the smartest, yet there’s no way you’d see me taking care of business in anything else.
“Where to, Mr. Russo?” he asks once we’re both inside. The divider in the Rolls Royce is down for now.
“Home, please.” Once I respond, Giuseppe knows I’ll need my privacy, and the soundproof screen goes up.
I should be making phone calls, but instead, my thumb is hovering over Henley Matthew’s name. The need to hear her voice just one more time has me feeling like an addict waiting on his next hit of heroin. It’s damn consuming, and I have no time for this shit. I scroll past her name, ready to press Papa’s number, and instead, I go right back to Henley’s name, not hesitating this time, bringing the phone to my ear as the phone rings.
“Massimo, when are you going to give up?” That’s how Henley answers my call, a voice that has a deep raspy tone to it.
“Henley, when are you going to realize I’m not going to give up, not until you quit hanging up on me?” I hear the deep breath she takes before responding.
“Massimo, with all due respect, you have a child to raise, one who just lost his mother. I have no time for this game you’re playing. So, please, I’m begging you, please, forget my name and number.” I laugh. That’s the only way to respond. She may be right about me having a child to raise, but on the other hand, she couldn’t be more wrong.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Henley, and if that were the issue, you could have told me all along. An answer, a call, or a text, and I would have set the record straight. Dante is my nephew, so while yes, I do have a child to raise, as you said, the mother he just lost was my sister.”
“Still, Massimo, you have enough to deal with, and, well, I’m trying to get my life together.” She sounds like the world is raining down on her in the eye of a hurricane.
“I’m not going to give up, not until I can properly thank you for helping Dante, and if you don’t have time for that, maybe a phone call or a text message every now and then, okay?” I attempt to barter.
“Something tells me even if I don’t say yes, you’d do all those things anyways, so yes, I’ll agree to that, but right now, I’m getting off the phone. Some of us have work to do and lives to live. Goodbye, Massimo.” She’s quiet enough for me to have a say before she hangs up.