Page 61 of The Enforcer

Tino sat next to him and looked across the office to see the two boys with the guinea issue glaring at them. Both were holding nurse-provided ice packs to their faces. Tino was pretty sure the one with the mouth had a broken nose, and his cousin didn’t look too great either after he bit it on the asphalt.

After the administrators called their parents, Tino learned these two were from the Brambino family. The blond with the mouth was Dominic Brambino, and his father was don of the entire Brambino Borgata, which was probably why Dominic was such an entitled prick. His cousin was Andrew Brambino, whose father just sat in the corner next to his son and let the two dons have it out.

Tino didn’t blame him. It was sort of awe-inspiring to watch, like having front-row tickets to a heavyweight boxing match.

Don Aldo Moretti was a big man. Like Frankie and Carlo, he was thick and muscular. He was still very fit despite being in his midfifties. His inky-black hair was neatly styled and pushed away from his face, with silver at his temples. Sicilian tan, with dark eyes, he wore a designer suit like he was made to wear one, and there was something about him that seemed a little bigger and a lot more powerful than the other don, who was considerably younger and smaller.

Don Brambino didn’t have the same dark-pope aura that Aldo Moretti did, and it wasn’t just that blond-haired, preppy Italian look to him. It was something else that was lacking, something unnamable that gave a man power, but he had obviously learned not to back down or show weakness in the face of someone more intimidating than him.

“These two don’t belong in school with our kids. We all know where they came from. If he wants to mix them into his Borgata, that’s his issue. It’s not the first time, but why do the rest of us have to put up with them?” Don Brambino said to Father John, the principal. “Why are they here, Father? Are they even Catholic?”

“These are my boys.” Don Moretti tapped Father John’s desk with his finger. “They’re my blood. They’re Catholic, and they belong here. I invested five hundred thousand dollars in this school that says they fucking belong here,” he growled furiously and then held up his hand in apology. “If you’ll excuse me, Father. But come on, this is an insult.”

“They just attacked my son for no reason and—”

“Whoa, hold on.” Don Moretti turned on the other don like an angry bear. “Lemme tell you something. If you called my dead mother a hood rat bitch, I’d break your friggin’ nose in a New York minute. The problem is your boys didn’t have the stugots to back up their mouths. That’syour issue. If you’re raising a son who can’t defend himself, maybe you oughta teach him how to keep his mouth shut. Did I hear Tino say he called my boys guineas? Where are they learning that shit, Carmine? Does your family have a problem with guineas?” He turned to Dominic and Andrew, who physically shrank back. “I’m Siciliano. I’m dark. You wanna call me a guinea?” When both boys shook their heads, Don Moretti turned back to his rival and arched an eyebrow, as if daring him to do what his son wouldn’t. Then he looked to Father John behind the desk and held up his hands. “I still don’t understand what the fucking problem is. If you’ll forgive me, Father, but I just don’t get it.”

“We don’t attack other students when we have an issue,” Father John said evenly, as if he was accustomed to dealing with this type of problem. “The problem is the violence.”

“So it’s okay to insult them? To insult their dead mother? The woman isn’t even cold in her grave. He called Tino a succhiacazzi. For someone who has such a problem with Sicilians, it sounds like your boy’s looking for a tan boyfriend. Forgive me, Father, I don’t wanna say anything bad about the Brambinos, but we all know—”

“Okay,” Don Brambino cut him off.

“I dunno what this boy is seeing at home or—”

“We’ll give him a pass.” Don Brambino sighed. “We’ll just give him a pass this time.”

“You’ll give him a pass. Are you shitting me, Carmine?” Don Moretti let out a sharp, angry laugh. “If your sister wasn’t married to Frankie, I’d start a war over that. I’m givingyour boysa friggin’ pass.” He pointed at Dominic. “You call my grandson a succhiacazzi again, and I’m gonna take it personal. I don’t care if you’re Carina’s cousin, you’re gonna learn real fast, if you fuck with my Borgata, it’s gonna hurt. Come on.” He snapped his fingers at Tino and Nova. “We’re done.”

No one had anything else to say.

Don Moretti dropped the mic, and Tino wasn’t even exactly sure how, but he and Nova followed after him before things changed.

Aldo Moretti didn’t go places without an entourage. He was the don of the largest crime family in New York, probably in the whole friggin’ country, not that Tino was keeping tabs, but he did notice the don had a lot of henchmen.

Lead henchman in charge of protecting the don was the original Lost Boy.

“Eh!” Carlo held out his hands when Don Moretti unlocked the door to the back and opened it for Tino and Nova. “You broke that little prick’s nose?” He burst out laughing, despite the Brambinos still within hearing distance. “School hasn’t even started yet, and you’re starting shit.”

“Carlo—” the don reprimanded.

“I love this kid.” Carlo grabbed Nova and pulled him into the crook of his arm. Then he kissed the top of Nova’s head. “I friggin’ love this guy.” He messed up Nova’s hair, because he was one of the few people who could get away with it. Then he leaned down and whispered, “Lost Boys fucking fly. We fly, right? We’re better than them.”

“The Brambinos. I hate those sick cunts,” one of the other guys guarding the don said, making it obvious he didn’t really understand the Lost Boys reference. “Someone needed to break his nose. My boy Johnny says that Dominic has got a mouth on him that would make a saint wanna murder him.”

“Come on.” Don Moretti messed up Tino’s hair and then looked down at Tino’s feet and let out a barking laugh. “That cast, Tino. Jesus, it’s no wonder they’re calling you a succhiacazzi.”

“The stugots on this guy.” Carlo reached over and pushed Tino’s head. “He doesn’t care. He’s got the chops to own that cast.”

Once they got out into the parking lot, Don Moretti looked at the Camaro Nova was driving, and then turned to study Tino and Nova. “You know, the reason thosecoglioniare treating you like trash is ’cause you’re both dressed like bums. Look at this.” He gestured to Nova standing there in jeans and one of Romeo’s old shirts that hung long and loose on him. “You been going to the jail dressed like this? With my last name on the paperwork?”

“I have nicer clothes. My brother made sure we had nice stuff. We didn’t go to school looking like merda.” Nova shrugged and looked away. “I just haven’t had time to go get the rest of our stuff and—”

“Look, you’re gonna be in this family. You dress like you’re in this family, capisce?” The don leaned down and got in Nova’s face. “I don’t care where you came from. I believe a Borgata needs some hard blood; otherwise we turn out like those pussies the Brambinos, but you dress like you belong. You act like you belong.Always.”

“Okay,” Nova agreed, though Tino knew he really didn’t want to spend money on clothes. “I’ll take Tino shopping tomorrow.”

“That’s it?” the don asked him. “You don’t got anything else to say about it?”