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“How many come to the meetings?”
Geno took a sip from his coffee and shrugged. “The outcome depends. Sometimes we’re only a handful. Sometimes almost two dozen.”
“I’d love to be part of a meeting one day if the others don’t mind.”
“Actually,” Priest Agnellus looked caught as he exchanged a look with Geno.
“We have a meeting in fifteen minutes. We were hoping to attract many with your presence.”
Leo glowered. “You should have made me aware beforehand. More people means we need additional protection.”
Geno pulled back the leather jacket he was wearing, revealing two glocks. “I’m capable of defending her too, but I can assure you that the men coming here today have enough problems. They don’t need the prospect of a brutal death at Samuel’s hand.”
“Maybe they’re hoping for a bullet to the head from me to end their misery. Suicide is still sin,” Leo growled.
I slammed my hand on the table, surprising myself and the men beside me. My eyes were wide in shock over my outburst, but I narrowed them at Leo. “I appreciate your concern, butthat was a very cruel thing to say. I can assure you my life isn’t miserable, and neither is theirs.”
“I’m sorry, but your situation is very different. Many Made Men don’t see themselves as men once they aren’t active,” Leo said, tilting his head in apology.
Geno leaned back in his chair with a dark look. “He’s right. The suicide rate for Made Men with grave disabilities is high. Nothing’s worse than being regarded as half a man or a burden.”
I pressed my lips together, trying to argue, but I knew he was only stating facts. “I hope I can change how some men see themselves.”
“I do too,” Geno said honestly. He nodded toward the front door. “Here comes one of them.”
Leo got up, causing Geno to let out an amused snort.
A tall teenage boy entered the center with a muscled man in his forties. They looked like father and son. My first instinct was to look at the older man, but his demeanor was too confident as if he thought this was a waste of time. My gaze settled on the tall, dark blond boy.
The father nudged the boy’s shoulder hard, so he looked up at him, then he spoke very slowly and clearly. “I won’t have time to pick you up. Take a taxi.” The boy gave a terse nod, then his eyes darted to us.
“Fiorentino, fifteen. Born deaf. His father is Captain.”
I had gathered that the boy was hard of hearing, but I wondered why the father didn’t sign with him. Both strode toward me after the father gave a nod toward Leo.
“Mrs. Mione,” the father said with a small bow of his head. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He nodded toward his son. “This is my son, Fiorentino. He can’t hear.”
I smiled at both of them, then began to sign to the boy. His eyes keenly followed my hands. He definitely knew how to readsign language. But he didn’t reply, only glanced at his father. “I don’t like it when he signs. It makes him look like an imbecile.”
“That’s a very rude name to call your son. It’s just a form of communication.”
He gave me a tight smile that made it clear he didn’t agree.
“You can’t sign?” I inquired after a moment of strained silence.
“No,” he clipped. He glanced at his watch. “I need to leave.” He leveled his gaze on his son. “Act as if you were a Made Man. Don’t embarrass me.”
The boy nodded again. He didn’t relax until his father was outside.
“You aren’t a Made Man yet?” I signed and said for Geno’s and the priest’s benefit.
The boy looked at Geno, who nodded.
“My father doesn’t want me to become a Made Man because I’m not of value to the cause.”
I frowned. “That’s horrible.”
“Fiorentino has five younger sisters, and his mother is pregnant with the sixth,” Geno said.