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As the weeks pass, Lou and I fall into a comfortable rhythm. Our morning walks are filled with her chatter about school, her friends, and her latest art projects. I find myself looking forward to her unique perspective on the world.
One afternoon, I pick her up from school and she’s practically bouncing with excitement. “Angelo! I got an A on my history project!”
“That’s fantastic, Louisville!” I say, feeling a surge of pride. “How about we celebrate with some ice cream?”
Her eyes light up. “Really? Mom never lets me have ice cream before dinner.”
I wink at her. “Well, what Mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?”
I haven’t seen Fee since she left. Lou’s always waiting for me in the hallway, ready for our walk to school or our trips back home. I never see inside the apartment, never catch a glimpse of Fee. It’s like she's become a ghost, present only in Lou’s stories and my memories.
Jimbo’s voice echoes in my head.“Just break down the damn door, Angelo. Make her talk to you.”
Part of me wants to follow his advice, to force my way in, to demand that Fee face me, face us. But I know that could backfire spectacularly. Fee’s stubborn, and pushing too hard might only drive her further away.
I miss her. God, I miss her. The sound of her laugh, the warmth of her smile, the feeling of her in my arms. It’s a constant ache, a hollow space in my chest that nothing else can fill.
I want to share my concerns about the business, to ask her advice. I want to hold her, to kiss her, to remind her that we’re stronger together than we are apart.
But I do none of the above.
I’ll keep coming back, keep trying, for as long as it takes. Because Fee and Lou are my family now.
And I don’t give up on family. Ever.
I stepinto Kings one night, unable to stomach my empty brownstone, the familiar buzz of conversation and clinking glasses washing over me. Marco follows close behind, his eyes scanning the room. It’s packed tonight, a regular who’s who of the city's elite and underworld.
Dimitri nods as I pass, a waitress materializing with my usual whiskey. I take a sip, savoring the burn as I settle into a comfortable chair.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the great Don Pirelli.”
My hand tightens on my glass at the sound of that voice. Gino slides into the seat across from me, his smug grin making my trigger finger itch.
“Gino,” I growl, my voice low and dangerous. “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve showing your face here.
He leans back, the picture of relaxed arrogance. “Just wondering when you’ll be signing everything over. I’m getting impatient.”
I set my glass down with controlled force. “You’ll be waiting until hell freezes over, Gino. I don’t give up what’s mine.”
His eyes narrow, all pretense of friendliness gone. “Don’t be stupid, Angelo. You know what I have.”
“And you know what I’m capable of,” I retort, leaning forward. My voice drops to a menacing whisper. “You really want to start a war? Because I’ll burn this whole fucking city to the ground before I let you win.”
The tension at our table is electric. Conversations around us die as people tune in to our exchange, sensing the impending violence.
Gino’s hand moves toward his jacket, and I’m on my feet in an instant, my own hand reaching for my concealed weapon. Marco steps closer, ready to intervene.
“Careful, Gino,” I warn, my eyes never leaving his. “You don’t want to do anything stupid in Dimitri’s place. You know the rules.”
For a moment, we’re at a standoff. Then Gino slowly moves his hand away, a cold smile spreading across his face. “You have two weeks, Pirelli. That’s all you get. Then I start making calls.”
I remain standing, looming over him. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Timpone. Remember, in our world, today’s victor is tomorrow’s corpse.”
Gino stands, matching my stance. We’re inches apart now, the air crackling with hostility. “So poetic, Angelo. Maybe you can be a poet in your next life. Tick-tock. Time’s running out for you and your little tailor.”
“Get out of my goddamn sight,” I snarl, “before I forget we’re in public.”
As Gino saunters away, I can feel every eye in the place on me. I’ve just thrown down the gauntlet, and everyone knows it.
