Footsteps(45)
His brother and father faced each other across the wide center island, which would soon be topped with stainless steel. For now, papers were strewn over the denuded tops of the cabinetry that made up the island. Both wore bigger versions of Trey’s hardhat, red with the Pagano & Sons logo in black, a little map of Italy, striped like the Italian flag, surrounding the ampersand. They were obviously angry. When Carlo Sr. saw Trey, though, his face relaxed completely into a sincere, loving grin.
“There’s my little paisano! Come give Pop-Pop a hug!”
Trey ran and did just that. “We brought you a sabbitch. And chips! And a pickle!” He looked over at his uncle. “Not for you, Uncle Luca.”
Luca laughed and patted his hard, cut belly, a white t-shirt spread snugly across it. “That’s okay, bub. I’m good.” After locking eyes with Carlo for a second, he added, “You want to bring your lunch and come with me? I see you brought your tools. You think we can find something around here needs hammering?”
Trey squirmed free of his grandfather. “YEAH! I have a drewscriver, too!”
“Well, bring your lunch, and let’s get working!” With a meaningful look at Carlo, Luca took Trey off.
Carlo turned and handed a lunchbox to his father. “What’s up, Pop?”
“Not your business, Junior. You’re not part of the company.”
Ouch. “I’m not asking about that specifically. But something’s going on with you lately.
His father only glared at him. Then, with a terse nod, he opened a lunchbox and pulled out the sandwich, then dug down for the bottle of water at the bottom. “More interested in what’s goin’ on with you. You don’t listen anymore. Just do your own thing. Regardless of the consequences. To everybody.”
“You’re talking about Bina.”
“Auberon’s wife. Yeah.” He bit into his sandwich. Around his mouthful, he said, “You know we’re putting a bid in for one of his smaller projects—that condo redevelopment on College Hill.”
“Pop! I’m supposed to let him hurt her so that you can get a job?”
His father’s brown eyes went black. “No, boy. You’re supposed to keep your nose—and your dick—out of his marriage because he could flatten us with a wave of his damn hand—and do your family real hurt, too, if he wants to. You know he stops at nothing—nothing—when he’s crossed. What if he goes for Trey? That worth it?”
He would keep Trey in the bosom of his family until this was done. Trey would be safe. “I went to the Uncles. They’ll help.”
“Shit. Shit. I asked you to think on that.”
“I did. And I made the call. It was the right thing to do.” He was sure of it. He had to be sure of it. Doubt at this point was folly.
“That’s never the right thing to do.”
“Didn’t you see her, Pop? Don’t you see? I can’t leave her trapped there if I can do something to help. And maybe our family is the only help that would actually work. He’s Teflon, but he’s not Kevlar.”
Carlo Sr. sighed heavily and dropped the rest of his sandwich, still partially wrapped in the wax paper he preferred over plastic, into his lunchbox. “She’s…sweet. And I saw the marks. Auberon is a son of a bitch, and I’m sorry for her. I just don’t see how she tips the scales against your family.”
“She needs me.”
His father’s fight had deflated. “Trey needs you. I needed you. You walked away from me.”
“Jesus, Pop. What is up? That’s old news. It’s been years. Why is it eating at you so hard again? I’m here. We’re working together. I’m just on the other side. This is what I love.”
But his father wasn’t ready to tell him what was going on. He simply shook his head and picked the rest of his sandwich back up.
As Carlo tried to figure out what to say next, his cell rang. He pulled it from his pocket—Peter.
“Hey, Pete.”
“Carlo, you gotta get back. Right now.” His friend’s voice was tight with stress.
Carlo had been leaning against the island; now he stood straight. “What’s wrong?”
“The office, man. Somebody broke in. Tore it to pieces.”
~oOo~
Pagano-Cabot had one-half of the third floor of a small, brick building in downtown Providence—not quite in the heart of downtown, but close enough to feel its pulse. The first floor of the building housed two trendy boutiques. The second floor was a small legal practice and an accounting firm. The other half of the third floor was vacant.