Heartless People

EIGHT

I used to murder people for money, but these days its more of a survival technique.

—Jennifer Estep

DANIEL

Some people think youd have to be a real messed up son of a bitch to live the life I do. I see them walking around with their heads held up high, talking on their cell phones, pretending to be good people.

But the truth is, they're not. Truly good people, which are very hard to find, don't think they're good people. They believe that they're doing what anyone else would do. The truth is, ninety percent of us
are hiding from the world and our true selves. We force ourselves to do the right thing because were afraid of the consequences of doing what we really want to do.

I used to be one of those people. I used to lie to myself too. I knew what my father—Gino the One-Eye—did for a living. I only saw him on holidays, and on my birthday, but I knew I didn't want to be
like him. Every time my mother washed the blood out of his shirts, I felt my disgust build. I didn't want to be like him, I didn't want his life, and I didn't want to spend my time kissing peoples shoes.

And then he came back in a wheelchair and told me I was going to go work for the devil himself. Ginos loyalty to the Capo knew no bounds, and I guess the Capo liked the old man. So when Gino lost his legs, Capo allowed him a way out of the life and to prove his gratitude, and Gino gave me up; I would work in his place, that way no one would ever think he would become a rat. A man could rat on his boss, but a true man could never rat out his only son.

I hated him for it. I tried to run. I packed all my shit in a bag, jumped out the window and ran down the street, only to find Capos daughter leaning against a beat up old Chevy.

"I told my dad you were going to run." She said, as the wall of muscle I grew to know as Antonio opened the door for her and myself. The look in his eyes as he held the door open, and his visible gun, told me I didn't have any choice in the matter.

Camila didn't speak to me. Instead she sat back, flipping through an Irish-to-English dictionary. I tried getting them to talk, I called them every name in the book, but Camila's only response was
to take out a knife and drive its blade deep into the dashboard. That shut me up quick.

As we pulled up to their mansion, she laid down the law. "Your loyalty is to my father and me for the rest of your life," she said. "You will kill for us, you will fight for us, and you will lie for us. In return, you will not only be a very wealthy man, but you will be much safer than you would be without us. Your father has pissed off a lot of people, all of whom would kill you just to get back at him. Run again, and Antonio will put a bullet in the back of your skull. Goodnight."

And with that, she got out of the car and walked into her house, leaving me completely stumped.

"How old is she?" I asked Antonio.

"Fourteen," he said, as he shook his head, a thin smile playing on his lips. "The boss wanted to put her in high school, but was afraid she would eat the other students." He laughed. "Come on, time to show the new dog his cage. Wouldn't want to kill you so
soon. She ain't joking about the rules."

No, she wasn't. Over the years I spent there, I grew to understand my place. I grew more loyal to her. I wasn't sure why.

She just had a way of getting into your head and staying there. She worked ten times harder than the rest of us, and never asked for anything in return. She just workedmore than any girl her age
should. You wanted to make her life easier. You wanted to do anything she needed. And by doing almost nothing but being cold, calculating and murderous, she had gained our loyalty. She was the
reason I was making this call now.