Mafia, Chapter 4

They lower my father to the ground. It's weird because I'm not crying. All this is so fucking that it hasn't even registered to me as of yet.

Maybe that's why when Kairo puts his arm over my shoulder I'm not even listening to him really.

“I'm here for you.”


“I'm not leaving you. You know that right?” he tells me.

He grabs me pulls me close against my will and presses me up against that muscular chest of his. The other folks at the funeral I don't even really know. There are a bunch of people that work at the restaurant but the only people I ever talk to at the restaurant are Danny and Patricia.

Speaking of Patricia she is with her homegirls on the other side, crying her eyes out. She's always been closer to my dad then I have.

“I'm good,” I tell Kairo.

“I don't suppose you want to go home now huh?”

“Naw. I'm good. My dad left everything to me. I'm staying. I'm running his restaurant for him.”

“Those people at that restaurant probably killed him. And look around. Where are any of those people now? He fed them for years. You would think they'd even show up.”

Kairo has a point. There are no Italians at this funeral. They knew the guy intensely and came to eat at his restaurant probably more than they ate at their own houses. Where were they now that my dad was dead?

“I don't know who killed my father,” I state.

“We all know it's those fucking guinea mobsters,” Kairo states, “We don't have to deal with this shit down south. This shit ain't no joke. I warned you, didn't I?”

“I don't need your shit right now.”

“I'm just trying to protect you.”

“Save it. Right now all I care about is who killed my dad and blaming it on all the Italians isn't solving my issue. Clearly there are different people. I want to know who is to blame for this.”

“I can find that out for you?”


“I got a job offer. District prosecutor's office. They need help cleaning up the Mob mentality on the Island,” Kairo tells me with a straight face, “So I'm taking the job. I'm gonna find all these mobsters and work with the cops out here. We're gonna put these guys under the jail. You here me?”

My attention isn't on Kairo any longer. In the distance I see a car parked up along the street from the cemetary. The crowd is full of people crying but I'm able to make out a car. It's a black Mustang. It's the same car that Carmine dropped his mom off with.

“Yeah, yeah...I hear you,” I say, “I hear you.”

Carmine is pressed up against the mustang. He has on some black clubmaster glasses, some slim fit ripped jeans and leather black jacket. He's staring out at nothing really. If he notices me he doesn't seem to care that I'm there. He's just watching the funeral from a distance on his own.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Kairo asks.

It's not hard to tell Kairo has a problem here.

“Can you go check on Patricia?” I ask Kairo, “I'll be back.”

“Are you joking? Regis! REGIS!”

I leave the gathering at that moment. I'm walking up the mound until I get to the street where Carmine is. Even when I about a foot away from Carmine he still doesn't acknowledge me. He's just staring out at that moment. He's staring out at the streets.

“You came.”

He shrugs, “Been to way too many of these things. You holding up?”

I shrug. I lean up against his Mustang with it. I'm a little nervous to do it at first but when I lean up with him he doesn't seem to have a problem with it. It's hard to tell his expression behind the black glasses. He just seems sterile. It's the only way to describe it.

“I'm aight,” I tell him.

“Well listen. My pops doesn't know about my mom leaving. Clearly. The story I gave him is my Mom asks me to drop her off at my Aunts house. My car broke down. Your dad came around and I asked him to take her home while I worked on the car.”

“What about the explosion?” I ask.

“What about it?” he asks.

“Vince did it. We both know he planted a bomb in your mom's purse Carmine.”

Carmine stands there for a second and takes off my glasses. That's when I see his expression at that moment. His dark eyebrows are twisted and turned downward. He looks pissed. I almost take a step back away from him scared that he's going to knock me silly for asking him something stupid.

“You don't know shit. If I knew you think I'd tell you?”

“My dad died with your mom. You're not the only one in pain. You know?”

“No shit. Stop saying stupid shit,” Carmine replies at that moment, “I was there. I know who fuckin' died. Stop saying dumb shit. Listen. I'll deal with it.”

“I can help.”

Carmine grunts hard, “Fuck your help. You're an outsider. This is inner business. What you gonna do? Take on these wise guys? Who are you, Rambo? You watch too many movies. You want to hit the mattresses with these guys you'll go from black to blue real quick. So lay low. Keep your head down and shut the fuck up about shit you don't know, why don't you? You don't know shit.”

“Clearly you don't know shit neither.”

“Listen you're lucky you're in mourning or else I'd kick the teeth back in that smart ass mouth of yours,” Carmine states putting back his glasses on after his nonchalant threat, “I'll deal with this. My way. You want to help---if anyone asks stick to the story. Your dad was giving my mom a lift. That's all that was.”

I think about it.

“That's a bullshit story.”

“Fuck you.”

“Is that why you came here, Carmine?” I ask at that moment, “You came here just to tell me to fall in line with this cock-of-shit story for your pops?”

“Sure is. Now fuck off.”

“You didn't have to come to my funeral for that,” I state, “If you didn't come here to check up on me then you fuck off.”

“I'm not in the fuckin' mood dick.”

“And neither am I. We both lost a parent. Stop blaming it on me. Stop being pissed at me,” I tell him, “I like you and if you liked me at all you'd at least keep me in the loop.”

Carmine gives me this hard look underneath his glasses. Even through his dark glasses I can see those dark impaling eyes staring at me. He has a piercing stare. I can see the outline of his almond shaped eyes squinting hard at me.

“You wanna know what I think?”

“What do you think?”

“That square down there. What's his name again?”

“Kairo. My ex.”

“Yeah. What-ever the fuck he is. Go be with that fuckin' square. Go jump on his hick dick and ride it all the way back where you came from. People like you don't last long here. You know why? People like you get bumped off. Get the fuck outta' here before you get whacked. Your dad was an earner. You stay in Staten Island, they're going to make you an earner.”

“An earner?”

“Get the fuck out of town,” Carmine states.

I'm sitting at home that day. Patricia keeps calling me but I ignore her phone calls so when there is a knock on the door I just assume that it's her. When I go to the door to open it up however I realize that it isn't Patricia. It's Danny...

And he has a suitcase.

“Uh...what the fuck are you doing?” I ask him.

Danny walks into the apartment. His face is healing up pretty well. He's starting to look like that pretty boy that he looked like before. It's pretty crazy how swollen his face was and how different he looked. Now he was back to look like some dashing Middle Eastern prince with his model like features and dashing good looks.

“Moving in.”

“Excuse me?” I ask.

“Patricia asked me to move in with you for a while. She's kind of scared after what happened with your Dad.”

Great. First Kairo was being extra by staying in NYC and now Danny was talking about moving in. I can hardly even stop the guy before he pulls his suitcase into one of the spare rooms. I'm standing in the living room dumbstruck by the time he comes out there.

As though it makes it any better he has a bottle of Hennessy in his hands.

“Listen I don't need a babysitter. I'm not fuckin' scared.

“No ones saying that,” Danny says, “If it makes you feel better I'm behind on my rent and I got kicked out. Being that I work downstairs and your dad paid for this place it's a win-win situation.”

“You can't just invite yourself in my house.”

“I also did rat you out when you USED me to deliver that letter to Isabella Fontana, did I?” Danny asks, “I figure you owe me.”

I sigh a little bit. I guess it won't be the worse idea in the world not to be living by myself. I give in at that moment and go get some glasses from the shelves. Danny must know that this is code for waving the white flag and I notice him smiling a little bit.

He walks over to the counter with me carrying the liquor bottle and pouring us a cup.

“To my Pops?”

We take a shot of the brown liquor. It burns the back of my throat.

“He was a good guy,” Danny explains, “I'm sorry this happened to him man. I didn't have any experience in restaurants. He hired me solely off the fact that I knew a lot about Italians.”

“Clearly so did he...” I state.

He'd been having an affair with the wife of an Underboss of a Sicilian Mafia family for god knows how long.

“Are you ok? Word on the street is that your dad was dropping off Isabella Fontana home and the car exploded...”

“Word travels fast.”

“Word on the street is that your boyfriend the Capo of the Moretti crime family, Carmine Fontana, is getting ready for war,” Danny states, “You hear anything about that?”

I shrug, “He's not my boyfriend.”

“Your secret's safe with me,” Danny explains, “Have you spoken to Carmine?”

I nod, “He told me to leave the city. He said something about my Dad being an earner. He said they'd try to make me an earner. Whatever that means.”

“You have no idea do you?”


“It's kind of common knowledge your Dad was an associate of the Moretti crime family.”

“My father was in the mob?” I ask.

He shakes his head, “No. Only made men are in La Cosa Nostra. He was an associate. He was an earner. Didn't you get your dad's will? Half of the restaurant belongs to Big Paulie...and as of today Big Paulie is out of jail. He's going to want some pay up.”

My heart drops.

My dad didn't even own all of the Sicilian.

I receive my dad's will. Danny was right somehow. Paul Palazzolo owned half of the Sicilian. My father had taken out loan from this guy when the Sicilian was struggling. Big Paulie paid off the debt that the Sicilian owed and in return he took half the company.

“We have a new owner,” Patricia states.

All the tears have dried. It's been almost two weeks since my father died. I stayed away from the restaurant as best as I could but now that I was partial owner of the Sicilian Patricia felt it was good that I showed my face and continued the hands-on approach that my dad had.

The staff is gathered looking at me. Half these people are older than I am. The other half don't really seem to give a shit about me. They have all these judgmental looks as they are staring at me as though I have no idea what their business entails. They would be right. I knew nothing about Italian cuisine.

“Good luck everyone,” I state, “I know you're going to do my father's legacy proud.”

No one claps. No one does anything. They just stare at me trying to figure out why this southerner was up here trying to give them this half-assed pep talk. As far as they knew I was supposed to be the host in the front of the restaurant. Automatically I had just inherited all this.

“You heard him. Get back to work everyone,” Patricia says with her heavy New York accent.

I guess I'm lucky to have my cousin continue her role as manager. I see the odd stares at that moment. I hear the whispers. I don't know why I have the strange feeling that people are talking a lot of shit about me.

“I sound so fucking dumb. My father's legacy,” I tell Patricia when they all leave, “He kept this restaurant just to get laid.”

“Stop it,” Patricia explains, “It was more than that and you know it.”

“Do I?”

Patricia grabs me by my hand. She pulls me off the floor towards the area that leads to the back. She keeps me in the hallway for a second and I feel like I'm about to get scolded for doing something wrong like she did when we were much younger.

“Listen you don't have to be here. You don't have to do this,” Patricia explains, “No one's going to hold it against you for leaving and going back to Mississippi. You'd still be the owner from down there. I can manager the restaurant.”

“No. I'm staying...”

“Then you'll need to have this.”

“What is it?”

It's a heart shaped key. She hands it to me as though the thing is precious.

“It's the second meat locker.”

“Why the fuck do we have a second meat locker?” I ask.

I never noticed a second meat locker in this place. I was sure on the first week I started I'd been given a tour by one of the staff. No one mentioned a second meat locker to me.

“If anyone asks you to bring you the heart of snow white. You go down that hall right there. You make a left. You listening? You keep walking straight. Two doors straight ahead. Open that door and let them in OK?”

“Why do I have the weird feeling I'm about to get involved in some illegal ass shit?” I ask.

“You inherited the Sicilian. You're already involved in some illegal shit,” she responds.

My first day as owner I spend most of the time hiding out. I'm scared to go out on the floor. It just seems like everyone is staring at me. It's literally Danny who finds me ducking in some storage closet that comes and pulls me out on the floor.

“You got on this nice suit to hide?” Danny asks me.

He takes me out on the floor. Stares. It's not just the staff this time either. It's the Sicilians. All of a sudden I realize just how small Staten Island is and I'm really nervous about everything.

“Danny you don't get it,” I state.

He looks concerned, “What are you scared of?”

I want to tell him. I'm scared as fuck that the Moretti crime family won't believe the shit that Carmine is telling them. Maybe they'll link back to me what my father was doing.

My life was lowkey in danger.

All of a sudden I have bubble guts. I want to tell him about Carmine's mother and my father. I feel like he's the only person I can trust. He is the only person who would understand. Patricia knows but she's so...stuck in her role here. It's almost like trying to relate to a brick house that has been there all along. Patricia knows the history first hand and she doesn't want to talk about it. Danny is the only person who I'd be willing to talk to about it.

I pull Danny closer to me, “Listen my dad has other reasons of starting this restaurant...”

“Other reasons like what?”

I'm about to answer but I don't get the chance. I feel a hand on the back of my neck. I don't know where the fuck it's coming from and I'm dragged to the back! My heart is racing and by the time I turn around I realize it's just Carmine.

“Carmine what the fuck?” I ask him.

“What were you about to tell that ARAB?” Carmine asks me.

He damn near growls it.

Danny follows behind us with a little bit of worry, “Everything OK back here?”

“We're good. Doesn't he look like he's OK?” Carmine tells Danny.


“I'm fine Danny,” I say, “Can I just have a moment?”

We are in a storage closet before I know it. Carmine has me pushed up against the flour and jars of spices. I feel stupid as fuck having got caught by him. He is giving me this look and honestly in this weird way I feel like I'm about to be scolded by Daddy. I have to admit though Carmine has to be the sexiest Daddy I've ever seen in my life.

“That Arab is really getting under my skin,” Carmine states.

Carmine has on a suit. I'm talking about perfectly tailored suit. There was nothing more sexy than a man in a suit that fit perfectly. Don't get me wrong. Carmine still looked like a slick talking gangster no matter what he wore, but I have to admit I nutted a little just looking at how perfect the suit fit him. The crotch area in his perfectly fit European cut pants shows a small indent of his dick. His gray shirt is perfectly pressed up against his muscles. He's giving me sophisticated thug today and I'm loving every moment of it.

“He's harmless,” I respond.

“Says you. Why the fuck are you even still here? Shouldn't you be out in the fucking suburbs adopting Ugandans with your square ass boyfriend?” Carmine states.

I want to tell Carmine that Kairo isn't my boyfriend but I'm annoyed that he keeps bringing him up so I figure I'll just play into it. Clearly Carmine has been bothered since he heard Kairo existed and instead of dealing with it like an adult he was throwing his petty little lines any chance he got.

“My boyfriend decided to move up here. He got a job.”

“Wait so the two of you are---” Carmine starts raising an eyebrow but then seeming to notice that he isn't sounding as cool as he normally should, “Matter fact. I don't give a shit. It's besides the point that I pulled you in here.”

“What's the occasion?” I ask him, “ You dressed all nice and pulling me in back rooms.”

It's supposed to be my day but instead Carmine is showing me up in this suit.

“Big Paulie is out of jail and he's coming here tonight for the first time,” Carmine replies.

“There I was thinking that you were dressed nice for me,” I state.

Carmine gives me a hard look, “Don't bullshit me. You were about to open your fuckin' trap to that Arab, Cornbread.”

“No I wasn't.”

“Lie to me one more time.”

He grabs me with one arm and pulls me close to him. He pulls me so close that our lips brush across one another. I don't think he means to do it. I don't think he even notices it when it happens. I notice it though and it turns me on. I'm struggling to hide my hardon and luckily my pants don't fit nearly as nice as Carmine's so it is very much so possible.

“Ok, whatever I was going to tell him. It's better than telling the cops what happened. That's what I really want to do. I was going to tell my coworker. So the fuck what. Sue me.”

“You ever heard of Omertà?” he asks me.


“It's the code of silence. In these streets that keeps you fucking alive. You don't talk about shit. Not to your friends, not to the cops, not to your family, not to Jesus on Sundays or your fucking fairy God mother. You hear me? You want to stay alive you don't say shit.”

“I guess there's a lot of things I don't know,” I respond, “You could teach me.

“You got some balls on you. I'll give you that.”

“Not as big as yours,” I state licking my lips.

“Here you start with this shit flirty shit again,” Carmine states.

“I'm just admiring your balls.”

I can't help it. I pull at Carmine's pants a little bit and put my hands down his pants. I brush first past low trimmed pubic hair, then I get to Carmine's thick dick. I push past the dick and cup his hard warm balls in my hands. Carmine let's out a deep moan at that moment as I cup his balls. I keep them in my hands for a few seconds, playing with them feeling the firm yet gentle sack between my finger tips.

Carmine lets out another deep moan, “You must wanna get fucked back here.”

“You don't like me, right?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Carmine grabs a deep hold of my ass at that moment. He pushes me up against the door of the storage room probably realizing there was no lock on it. As I'm pressed up hard against the storage door, I hear him lower his zipper.

Carmine is tough. He's rough with me as he yanks hard down at my pants. He gets it right below my the curve of my asshole and bends me over just enough so that my hole is exposed. I hear him spit a wad into his hand. I close my eyes. There is no kissing. There is no sweet, sexy words or anything like that. All I feel is a heavy pressure and a wetness from his spit. His dick is hard between his fly. He didn't even have the patience to pull his pants all the way down.

He thrusts in me a few times and I press on the door.

“Fuck you tight.”

“What'd you expect?”

“You're man must not be doing his job,” he says.

I laugh at the idea and Carmine keeps pushing in. Deep and deeper. The thrusts enter inside of me. I can feel his wet dick pumping me as he presses hard up against my body. He holds onto my waist controlling everything so that I can barely even move or participate.

Carmine wants complete control of this process and I'm giving it to him.

I'm moaning low things into his ear, “Fuck me. Yes. Fuck me daddy. It's so good. You're so good to me. I've never had dick like this. I've never been fucked like this.”

Every word I'm saying to him is the truth. Carmine's stroke is like he's painting the Sisteen Chapel. He's pulling in, rocking his hips as though he's drawing an O with his dick and then once he marks his target he thrusts deep in. He long dicks me to the point that I feel my leg numbing up against the wall of the storage unit.

We both hear the footsteps coming towards the doorway and I know Carmine is struggling to finish before the person gets there.

The person attempts to open the door.

“Hey...Reggie...” the voice says.

It's Patricia. The door is open a little bit. If I'm not pressed up against the wall Patricia would have just been able to walk her ass into the storage room.

“Yeah cous. sec....”

Carmine uses his arm to help me keep the door shut enough. He's still in me. He isn't only still in me...Carmine is still thrusting DEEP! I am struggling not to let out moans even though I am well aware that my cousin is on the other side of the door.

Deeper. Deeper. He's fucking me harder and harder.

“Are you ok?” Patricia asks me.


“Listen. Paul Palazzolo would like to meet with you.”

For some reason the name seems to be the only thing to get Carmine out of the mood. He pulls out at that moment. He barely gets his dick back in his pants.

I can tell by the look in his eyes that this is not good.

“Just the man I wanted to see. And with Carmine, no less...” this man says.

The man is huge. He has to be about 350 pounds but he's also quite tall as well. He has a bald head and pale skin for an Italian. His lips are thin to the point that they are barely there. Underneath his eyes are red bags and an intense stare.

“I was helping Cornbread in the back...with...uh, special order,” Carmine states.

Is Carmine...nervous? I can't really tell if its nerves or if he's still just kind of winded from blowing my back out in the back. He sounds suspicious when he says it so I'm not surprised when I see these strange looking glances Carmine and I get. The person who seems the most confused by it is Carmine's father. I'm surrounded by these guys that seem like big shots. Carmine's father and Joey Bananas are the only two people that I recognize in this group of men.

“Cornbread is that what they call you?” the fat guy asks.

“Yes. Sir,” I state.

I'm nervous. I'm sweating. The eyes are glaring at me. They are strongly staring at me. All of the eyes are but it's Big Paulie that scares me the fucking most. There is something off about him. I only met one person who ever made me so nervous in my life and that guy ended up being committing suicide after taking his whole family with him back in college. I never expected it from that guy but there was just about him. Big Paulie was giving me the same look. There was a calm exterior but something was off about him.

“Cornbread. I like it. Do you know who I am?”

“Paul Palazzolo.”

“What's with the government?”

Carmine looks over at me, “Big Paulie, Cornbread. Just say Big Paulie.”

Paulie gives Carmine a look as though irritated that Carmine stepped in. Carmine seems more nervous than I am at that moment. That's saying a lot because I'm dripping with sweat. I've never been so terrified in all my life.

“So---so sorry Big Paulie.”

“Cornbread. Bring me the heart of Snow White,” he says.

I take the key out of my pocket. I hand it to him. Big Paulie slides the key to another guy. This other guy is a muscular looking crook. He's got missing teeth all over his mouth and looks like he's been in a million fights.

“Angelo, why don't you go gather the guys. Take them through the back,” Big Paulie orders.

“Yes sir,” the scary looking Angelo guy says.

“Was there anything else I can help you out with sir?” I ask, “Maybe some appetizers.”

“Why don't you come back with us?” Big Paulie asks, “There's some things I'd like to discuss with you.”

“He's a dumbass Big Paulie,” Carmine says all of a sudden, “Talking to him is like talking to a bunch of bricks.”

For the first time since I've met him I don't mind Carmine calling me a dumbass. I want this Big Paulie guy to think I'm the biggest dumbass ever!

“I don't think so. I know a smart guy. You a smart guy?” Big Paulie states, “Come in the back with us. Come on.”

“The kid's nervous. Look at him shake,” Joe Bananas states.

“What do you expect? It's his first day and we're grabbing him up and what not,” Carmine states, “Anybody would be a little bit nervous. Maybe we should ease up a little bit. I dunno...”

We're almost in the back when Big Paulie turns around to Carmine. He gives him a hard look. The other guys that are walking with us are looking at Carmine as well.

“Hey---why don't you shut the fuck up, who asked you?” Big Paulie asks.

Carmine stops in his tracks. I don't think Carmine is used to someone talking to him like this. His father was the underboss and Big Paulie has been in jail for 5 years. Carmine may have been active in the Moretti Crime Scene five years ago when Big Paulie was out but even if he was he clearly must not have remembered Paulie talking to him like that. Carmine's shock is shown far and wide.

Carmine takes a deep breath, “I didn't mean no disrespect sir, it's just that---”

“Well you did disrespect,” Big Paulie states, “Leo what you teaching this kid? Doesn't he know when to shut his trap.”

Leo Crazy Fontana gives his son a hard look.

“Carmine why don't you stay behind.”

Carmine looks like he is about to explode.

“Are you--”

“Stay behind,” Leo Fontana states, “Go get you some meatballs or something.”

Carmine is pissed and I'm scared. He stays behind as they told him to do.

I'm taken in the back room with the other big shots. It really is another meat locker with a separate entrance and old looking meat. There is something off about this place as well. Why the fuck did my the mob want a key to this place. It just seemed like this was where all the shady business went down for these guys.

“So word around the street is that you're Dad died with Isabella Fontana,” Big Paulie asks me, “Any truth to that.”

I nod, “That's what happened.”

“Where were you?” Big Paulie asks.

I am pretty sure Carmine's story didn't involve me even being there. The less I know the better.

“At home,” I state.

“Is that right?” Big Paulie asks me.

He stares at me hard.

“Yes sir.”

The room is so cold. It's freezing in here and yet I still manage to feel hot all over my body. I'm surrounded by all these strange men. They aren't friendly. They aren't smiling. They aren't welcome. They are cold blooded killers. Every last one of them. I can see it in their faces. There is no love here. There is no heart here. There is this sense of danger that I can't understand.

That's when someone comes into the room. No. He doesn't come into the room. He is dragged in. He's dragged in by the Angelo guy.

Angelo throws this guy on the ground at that moment.

“Oh my god...” I'm saying under my breath when I see the guy has a hood over his head.

He's tied up.

He's thrown to the ground and his hood is removed. I look down at the person and recognize him. It's Vince. He's laying there on the ground shaking.

“Your father. He was a good friend of mine. You know that?” Big Paulie asks, “And you know Isabella...Isabella was like a sister of mine.”

“This is Vincent,” Big Paulie says, “My son's friend. What's he doing here?”

“Vincent comes to me two days ago,” Big Paulie says, “He says he needs protection. I says...why? He says he did a bad thing.”

“Big Paulie please...”

Crazy Fontana looks down at Vincent, “What he do?”

“He killed Isabella and Regis.”

“You sure about this?” Crazy Fontana states.

“No reason to lie,” Big Paulie said, “And this is my gift. Aren't I generous?”

Crazy Fontana grabs a gun out of his back pocket at that moment. He takes the gun and he points it at Vincent's dome. Vincent is crying all of a sudden. He is crying so bad that he's pissing his pants. He's literally pissing his fucking pants.

“You're a dead man,” Crazy Fontana says.

Big Paulie stops him though. He grabs his gun, “No this isn't your kill.”

“What do you mean it's not my kill? This guy killed my wife. What the hell do you mean it's not my kill?”

“You questioning me? Like your fuckin' son. Now I know where your son gets it from,” Big Paulie states.

“I'm not questioning you boss...” Crazy Fontana states.

For that moment I can tell why they call him Crazy Fontana. He is almost tweaking to kill Vincent. The look in his eyes is well...crazy. They are going everywhere. Leo Fontana may actually be quite handsome for an older guy but there doesn't seem to be much of a cool when it comes to him. He isn't collected like Paulie. As I stand there looking at him I wonder if he does drugs.

“This kill is for my friend's son. You're justice.”

At that moment Big Paulie hands me the gun.

I'd never even held a gun in my fucking life. My heart is racing. They want me to shoot this fucking guy! THEY WANT ME TO FUCKING SHOOT HIM!

“I can't do this.”

“You must think you have a choice in this matter. I've got a contract on this man's life. You going to refuse me kid?” Big Paulie asks.

They are all looking at me. I can't do it. I can't kill someone. I could never take someone else's life. My heart is in my throat. I can't do this.

“Please...please Big Paulie. Please. I don't want to die. I don't want to die,” Vince states.

Here I am looking at the man who killed my father. I had the chance to get revenge on him. Why the fuck wasn't I taking it? Why the fuck didn't I pull the trigger already?

“What is he some kind of cop?” Joe Bananas ask, “He's not pulling the trigger.”

“He's not a cop. Relax. He's going to kill the guy. Aren't you?” Big Paulie asks me, “Pull the trigger.”

“I---I can't do it,” I say.

I have tears welling up in my eyes. My hands were shaking.

“I'm not going to ask you again.”

I have the gun in my hand. I put my finger on the trigger. If I did this it would change my life forever. I'd go down a path that I could never be redeemed from. I felt like if I did this my entire life would probably be over.

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