Capo Dei Capi (Secrets of the Famiglia Part 1) novel Chapter 23

We've been stuck together for the last year and a half.

I had school most of the days, and it was far from the boy's high school, which meant I didn't spend much time with them. Next year that will change.

Michel and Ren suggested I attend their school because of the art program. Ren was prepared to go to Papa and ask him.

Something that made me like the pimpled face boy, yet, find him annoying. Arrogance is dangerous, and we are kids. Papa doesn't like arrogant people.

I explained this in the morning before we all left and again, once I got home today, but Ren refused to hear a word of my explanation. It went through one ear and vanished.

Simmone, Capo Stagio Russo's sister laughed when I made a sound that should never be made while I colored her house with words no young lady should say, storming out of there in frustration and up into the attic.

Which is the reason I was snippy today. Now, I am not so sure about my insolent snappy attitude. Thirteen is hard as it is. Add in the facts- I was pawned off to live in Chicago, my mother is dead, and I have no one to admit to that recently I got my period. I'm rethinking my decision to keep to myself. A lot.

Ren and the others only want to be my friend. I need friends, and they are going to be significant men one day, so they are excellent friends to have in this world. I think this as I head on to my room to shower and change my clothes, which consist of distressed black denim pants, a well fitted white soft cashmere tee, and black suede Corvette shoes.

My hair takes me ten minutes to brush out, and I think about Mero’s request to get Christy's number. If I am going to be these guys friend, then I am going to have to do my part too. They want me in their group. A woman born into our world didn’t get an opportunity like this, ever.

My thoughts carry on when I see they are all waiting for me downstairs, and I am 15 minutes late. None of them utter a word.

I think on it, even more, when Gabriel introduces me to a boy in his class that indeed knows a lot more about me than I do, including the knowledge of my sister or should I say, siblings.

“So, tell me, Dexter Kent, are the rumors true about your father?” Mero asks the Texan, blue-eyed boy staring at Mero in open amusement. Light brown hair floppy as it falls partially into his face. He is wearing an Armani suit, and while most boys look at these guys in awe and fear, Dexter Kent seems at complete ease with us being in his presence. And considering we were supposed to meet his dad and got him instead, I knew this was not a surprise, but a planned occurrence on his part.

“It depends on who is asking,” He says in a still very young voice.

“How old are you?” I ask him.

Dexter Kent sees it, and a look akin to respect infiltrates his features. They are there for me, my people, we are the same.

“Tell me.” Two words were spoken.

I didn’t know as I said those words how they would link us together, and the implications it will have on all 6 of us.

That day on a hot summer’s afternoon in a Yogi bar, as Mero, Ren, Michel, Gabriel, and I sat across a Texan boy named Dexter Kent as he told us things about my father, our fate was sealed. Our allegiance to each other made by the sins of my father and our alliance with Dexter Kent now something that would one day have us picking sides in a war we will all play our part in.

We left Yogi Bar that afternoon, with Dexter Kent, our new friend, and went to Nicko’s Pizzeria, our silent pact made.

And one day would be sealed not just in secrets, but in blood too.

I should have known as I looked at the pimpled face, Ren, as he placed his arm over my shoulder, laughing at Michel that our friendship was something special but also something with a short ending. Because goodness and happiness never existed long enough in our world to make a name for it. Lorenzo Catelli was so much more than that. I knew Gabriel, Mero, and Michel were already tainted like me, but not Lorenzo. For some reason, his family kept him 13 going on 14. Even Dexter Kent, as he ate his pizza, had darker secrets than Ren. I knew this because how did an 11-year-old boy know so much about my family? My father was not an easy man to find much less get that kind of information about. My father was a monster wrapped in a costly suit and a fancy job that made him not only elusive but disguised as a savior.