You see, there are these apps where anybody can write books, stories and the sort and one day, scrolling the FB (which I don't usually do but I kill time with it on occasions) my eyes fell on a title that made me scoff.
The title, 'Mafia in Love'...
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I know now where I've heard that name before and feeling like unlocking level a thousand of a mystery game, I stand up to reach for my safe box and pick up the letter my father left me years back before he was killed.
I place the cigarette in the corner of my lips, with the smoke burning my eyes, and forcing them to squint in a thin line while I unfold the letter and roll my eyes on the lines till I reach his name.
Vincenzo Benito. The very man that my father fought against and died by his hand. I always believed that my father left me silly things written here.
I almost didn't believe that this man ever existed. He sounded like he was out of this world. All the stories I've heard from Grandpapa about Don Enzo seem like fantasies of a creature that goes to extreme courage melting into madness.
Yeah, I know. That's how the mafia has worked before but today those stories are for books and movies.
Much like the book, I'm reading on that damn app, and I can't get enough of it.
Truth be told, I would have loved to live in those times when a raid was a battlefield, and the winner was taking it all.
Today my men hardly know where they have tossed their guns and probably need some training to get used to them again.
But not me.
Mine is always glued to my right hip, always on my nightstand or under my pillow. Grandpapa Capozzi always told me that my gun was my best friend, my life savior and that's what she is, my best companion.
I am today my grandpapa's creation, nothing less and nothing more. I've never been close to my father, barely seeing him at home and then he was killed and frankly, my attachment to him grew even lower after his death. Grandpapa was my father figure.
When he gave me the legacy letter my father left me, I didn't mind it much. Names mentioned there meant nothing to me. I know my mother only by her name, I've heard very few words about her growing up under the care of Grandpapa's Capozzi. I didn't even wonder why he never spoke about her.
I only know about my mother that she moved to the States at an early time in her life and she has come back to Italy only once, when she gave birth to me.
One year later she was back to her life in the States, and I grew up having grandpapa Capozzi and grandma Olivia as a family.
Now I have only grandma Olivia and she's the only constant in my life, the most precious thing to me.
Other names in the letter didn't even stir my curiosity, even the name of the man that my father said was his Nemesis, and now I find myself crossing my way with his, messing up my deals and making me lose a fortune.
The legendary devil seems to be real, the Don I've heard to be the first and the last ever Italy's mob has trembled even at the thought of him.
