Beast I Can’t Tame by L.K. Shaw
Chapter 6
Giovanni
The minuteI cross over Atlantic Avenue, the clouds disappear and the sun beats down on the neighborhood, as though trying to perk up an otherwise gloomy section of Brooklyn. I circle at least three blocks before finally finding a parking space four streets over from my destination. It’s in one of the most run down areas of Cobble Hill, with the buildings all faded and weathered-looking. I make my way down each street, my leg hurting more with every step I take, until finally coming to a stop in front of the four-story yellowed-brick row apartment.
The door, which had been security locked at one time, hangs open, cracks running down the glass in a spider web pattern. The skunky scent of marijuana spills out onto the street. Sirens sing in the distance. I step through the darkened entryway and head up the narrow stairwell.
Cigarette butts decorate the blackened, threadbare carpet as I make my way up to the third floor, each stair creaking under my weight, as though warning me to turn back. The screams of a kid echo down the hallway. An open garbage bag sits in the corner, its contents half spilling out, and the flash of some rodent skitters behind it. I shudder in disgust. The place was a shit hole when I lived here. It’s gotten a hundred times worse in the fifteen years since I left.
Finally, I reach apartment three-zero-six and knock on the door. I glance around at the nicotine stained walls and half the broken lights. It’s dark and lifeless in here. Almost like its residents. I’m not sure I’d still be alive if I hadn’t gotten out when I did.
The door swings open and my mother stands there in a short white tank top with god knows what kind of stains on the front. Her pants look like pajamas. There’s a cigarette hanging from her mouth, and it doesn’t appear like she’s washed her hair since the day she showed up at the funeral.
She takes a huge inhale and plucks the white stick from between her lips, blowing the smoke nearly in my face. Her laugh is grating. “Well, well, look who finally decided to show up for a visit. Have you missed this place?”
“Can I come in or not?” I ask, barely holding back my annoyance.
My mother slowly steps back, opening the door fully and sweeps her hand in a welcome gesture. “Wouldn’t want the neighbors to see you loitering in my doorway, huh? They might think you’re here for something special.” She waggles her eyebrows.
I brush past her and into the middle of the living room, wrinkling my nose at the place. Clothes are strewn all over the same couch that’s been there since before I left. Dishes are piled up in the sink. The trash is overflowing with beer and liquor bottles. At least some things never change.
“What brings you back to my humble abode?” she asks, moving over to the sofa and snatching the stuff up and tossing the pile onto the dining room table. I eyeball the couch and have no intention of sitting there.
“I want to know what you get out of this sudden announcement of yours,” I say, not wasting any time. The sooner I get answers, the quicker I can get out of here.
My mother plops onto the couch, crosses her legs, and takes another drag from her cigarette. She holds it in for several seconds and then blows it out before she answers. “What makes you think I want anything?”
“Because I know you, Beatrice. You’re still the same person you’ve always been. There’s something you want. Especially if you think Mr. Ricci can give it to you.”
“I already told you. I merely want my son to know that he has a brother. Sal never should have kept you a secret. Or make me keep you a secret. It’s just not right,” she whines. “You deserve to be a member of that family instead of just an errand boy.”
“I haven’t run errands for over a year,” I point out.
She scoffs. “You’re a chauffeur. Barely above the bottom of the rung and you know it. Which means you’re still doing nothing but running. You’re at the beck and call of those more powerful than you. Driving them wherever they want you to take them. How is that any different than being an errand boy?”
I straighten my spine. “Out of everyone in the organization, I was chosen to be Mrs. Ricci’s personal bodyguard.”
Beatrice smirks and eyes me up and down, pausing at my cast before continuing her journey. “Look how well that turned out.”
My face heats.
She sits upright on the couch and leans onto her crossed leg, her cigarette-holding hand dangling over it. I watch as the ash crumbles off the end onto the floor.
“Think of everything that comes with being the brother of the head of the entire Brooklyn Kings, Giovanni. Maybe, one day, you could take over. Have you thought about what that could mean for us?”
There it is.“This has nothing to do with me, at all. It has to do with you.”
“I’m your mother, Giovanni. If you took over the organization, think of how powerful you’d be. I could live a different life than I’m living. I wouldn’t have to stay in this dump any longer.” She waves a hand around in a wild gesture.
I stare down at her. “Your little plan is flawed, though. I have no desire to rule the syndicate.”
She opens her mouth, but I hold up my hand. “And even if I did, you seem to be under the impression that things would suddenly change between us. As though I’m somehow going to forget my entire life. Forget everything you’ve done. Like it never existed and welcome you back with open arms.”
“Fine,” she narrows her eyes. “What about that princess you’ve been lusting after for the last year? You’d finally be good enough for her. You’re the brother of the man who rules all of Brooklyn.”
“You know nothing about my relationship with Francesca,” I bite out.
Her smile is the fake, saccharine one she shows when she thinks she knows something no one else does. “Just because you’ve forgotten you have a mother doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten you’re my son. You’d be surprised by how much I know about what goes on in your life.”
“I’m surprised you’re sober enough to pay attention,” I snark, although her awareness of things makes me uneasy. Who’s been feeding her information?
My mother doesn’t take the bait. She merely shrugs off my insult and pulls in another breath of tar and nicotine. “Regardless of what you think of me, I know how you feel about that girl. Just think about how things could change for you when the truth comes out.”
Feeling the walls close in on me, I need to get out of here. “You may think you know all these things about me. And maybe you do. But I can promise you this. You do not know Mr. Ricci. He’s not someone you can play games with. He doesn’t make idle threats. He will kill you and not think twice about it if you do anything that will hurt his family.”
With that warning, I turn my back on my mother and let myself out, trying not to slam the door behind me. I should have known that she wouldn’t stay out of my life forever. No matter how hard I tried.
I make it back to my car, my leg burning more with each movement. It’s like someone is sticking a hot poker under my skin. My arm aches under this fucking cast, and I have to sit for several minutes to catch my breath. I punch the steering wheel in anger and frustration.
The whole drive home, I curse Beatrice. Because I can’t get her words out of my head. Things would be different with me being higher up in the organization than where I am. It’s been my whole goal to rise up in the ranks. Not just for me, but also—damn my mother for being right—for Francesca.
At what cost, though?
