Today’s recommendation is Man of Omerta. I love mafia stories, no I adore mafia stories. This one has a wonderful twist of being set in the 1960’s. Go check it out.
Silence. Honor. Humility. This was the world as I knew it. Isabella didn’t change this for me, she made it clearer. She became a part of that oath as I spoke the words, because a man who couldn’t protect his family, couldn’t be trusted to protect the organization. “We settle things like men, amongst men, we don’t run to cops like cowards.”
Bensonhurst, New York, 1965
From the time I was twelve, I’d been a part of this life. My father was Aro Volturi’s consigliere, and from the days I used to stop by the bar on my way home from school, he’d seen the promise in me.
I was his godson, and as he’d lost his brother and two sons to this life with nothing and no one to blame but their own temper and stupidity, a decade after my start he was beginning to consider who would step in when he retired.
“My boy,” Aro called from the back of the smoke-filled room, “come talk to your godfather.”
I made my way to the table where he sat with my father and a few other high-ranking officers and he handed me an envelope. “Take care of this for me? You and Jasper leave tonight.”
Nodding, I took the envelope and made my way out of the bar. There was no point in opening it in front of him. Checking what he was asking of me before I agreed was rude, and it wouldn’t have mattered. I would have done it regardless. You don’t disrespect your elders, especially the boss.
Making it to my car, I saw an address in Chicago and a name, Stefan Romano. I knew of him; he was a low-level crook who thought it was a good idea to skim from the top. This was his only warning. We’d be coming back to New York with the money owed to Aro, whether he paid it, or we took it after he was dealt with.
I drove to the house and walked in the front door, smiling at the smell of Esme’s minestrone soup cooking. One of the perks of still living at home was getting a home-cooked meal every night. She could make a masterpiece out of nothing, but tonight I had other plans.
“Where’re you off to?” she asked, gesturing to the suitcase that was waiting for me.
“Chicago,” I told her.
“Take your heavy coat, you’ll freeze your balls off out there.”
“Yes, Ma,” I called, taking the coat from the hall closet, I shrugged it on.
“Ay, where do you think you’re going?” she hollered.
I stopped and walked to the kitchen and over to her where she was stirring dinner. I kissed her cheek and she patted mine, three quick taps her silent way of saying I love you.