Cigarettes & Coca-Cola✔️

Chapter 20

Chapter 20: The life of ‎c̶r̶i̶m̶e̶ family

Corbin

"Well if this isn't ironic, I don't know what is." He says with a laugh.

I don't bother to turn around, I stare at Ana's sleeping form. She sleeps quietly within my expensive sheets.

"Don't start with me, father," I say and then spin around. 

I know what's coming and it fills my stomach with dread. When I called my dad and asked for help, he asked me if I was sure...and I know why. There's no going back after this, not anymore. But I can't find it within me to regret my decision. Ana is safe, she's healing...in the physical sense at least. She hasn't woken up yet and I wonder what's going on inside of her head. Our family's doctor did a good job of patching her up, 2 of her ribs were cracked, she probably sustained another concussion, and fuck... all the cuts, every one of them stitched up. She could've died, and I would've lost her. And to think that I almost made the mistake of not listening to that voicemail.

"Let the girl sleep, Corbin, we have business to discuss." My father then turned around and walked out the door. I cast one last look at Ana, and then I was trailing after him. His office door slammed shut. He was already behind his desk, a manilla envelope sat carefully in front of him. I didn't need to ask what it was. They were the same words I read when I was only 17, I almost laugh, back then I'd thought that I would've lasted longer.

The smell of his office always made it hard for me to breathe, expensive cigar smoke clung to every piece of furniture. 

"Son." My father says.

I turn to look at him. We don't need to have this discussion, because he told me this years ago... right when I turned 18.

5 years ago

The music was loud. The girls were drunk and the guys...fucking assholes. I lift the red solo cup to my lips and savor the taste of scotch. If my father finds out that I've been drinking his expensive liquor all night steam would come out of his ears. I smile at the mental picture.

My phone rings then. I barely hear it, it's my father. I stifle a groan. One night. For fuck sake...I asked for one fucking night. One night without the responsibilities hanging over my head... the fucking pressure of it all. The son of Ambrosi, The Snipe.

I bring the phone to my ear, "Stop drinking my expensive shit and come home. You have your first hit, Ragazzo."