Mob Wife

Mob Wife 28

Mob Wife 28: Seeing Giovanni and Reading Letters

Francesco walked inside of his therapist office, showing clear signs he didn't want to be there. This meeting was on the schedule, so he showed up. A small part of him needed to clear his head- speak about his feelings right now. Dr. Shelby looked up from the clipboard, watching Francesco toss his jacket to the couch before plopping on it with a huff escaping his mouth. Dr. Shelby could see his patient was stressed, so he removed his glasses, uncrossing his legs, "I'm taking something happened," both of them skipping the formal greetings.

Francesco rests his hands on his stomach, one set of fingers tapping on the back of his other hand, "I told Brooklyn what I do for a living," Dr. Shelby brows raise, no words escaping his mouth. Francesco could still see the smile slowly rise on Brooklyn's face when the words came from his mouth.

She started to laugh, assuming he was joking because the topic was completely random, and she was certain she wasn't dating  Mobster. She was in the middle of cooking when he told her this news, so she just walked around him, saying, "I thought you were going to break up with me or something. You're funny, Paco," she said, heading towards the boiling pot she had lit on the stove. She was making spaghetti carbonara that night, deciding to make dinner for the two since he was going to be at her place, "the Mafia," she dipped her finger into the water to pull a noodle out, feeling it wasn't ready before shaking her head, "what made you want prank me with that? Leave the gun, take the cannoli," she mocked this line from the Godfather, in an accent  with a smirk on her face, "wait, babe, was that offensive?" she looks up at him sincerely, awaiting his response. 

Francesco wasn't showing an ounce of humor. His face was relaxed, as he listened to her, "Brooklyn, I'm not joking. Why would I joke about something like that?" completely ignoring her question about the line. 

Her head tilted just a smidge as she wondered why he was still carrying on this act, "because there no's way in hell you're in the Mob," she put her focus on him, but he didn't say anything, "babe, c'mon, tell me it's a joke," she wasn't in the mood for him to pretend for hours that this was a true fact. Francesco scratched the back of his head, sighing heavily, "Francesco," she scrunched her brows, happy for the distance between them. Apart of her didn't want him to feel like she thought he'd hurt her if she moved back, but another part of her was scared that he could, "it's not funny."

Francesco rolled his eyes, becoming frustrated that she truly believed that he would joke about something like that, "Brooklyn, I'm not fucking around. My father and great grandfather were apart of that lifestyle before me," he pointed to his chest, "you can't tell me Vitale didn't sound familiar," she was quite, so he continued, "there were newspaper articles around years ago about some family eliminating six rivals. The Vitale's are that family."

The 1992 Massacre,"Why?" she asked him. While she stared at him, listening, thoughts were crossing her mind fast. She's read about it, and has heard about it a few times because the people she used to work with at the percent, used to talk about it all the time. 

Francesco answered with, "it's just what I grew up around, Brooklyn. It helped our family make money overtime," he stepped an inch close but she moved back. Francesco looked taken back by her movement, almost hurt.

"No," she pointed at him.

"C'mon, Brooklyn. You know I wouldn't hurt you. That's not the man I was raised to be,"  he told her, getting a tad bit frustrated she would think so. Brooklyn's face softened for a moment before staring at the ground, "I know me basically being a criminal has some questions going through your mind, and I'll answer them- to a certain extent. You can know about what I do, but you can't know exactly what I do," Brooklyn picking up on the double meaning, "say something."