The Life: Sacrifice (The Life 3)

A quick rundown of the shit Gabe Russo has pulled in the last week and a half. Sent a teenage girl to some facility that nobody knows about, one I still have no clue how he even learned about its existence. On the same day or just about, had said teenager’s mother dropped off in the middle of nowhere for not one, but two nights, in the dead of winter. Tommy was only too happy to keep me up to date on that one.

I was a bit clueless about his reasons for having the Becky woman picked up and dropped off in the worst part of the city where the homeless have set up shop, all this, while her jaw has been wired shut, and she has no access to medication because he sabotaged that shit as well. Guess what she ended up doing; take a wild guess.

I have no idea if that was part of his plan when he set the whole thing up, but now I’m torn. I hate fucking drugs, but if the boy thinks she deserves this shit, who am I to say different? It’s not lost on me, and I’m tempted to ask my brother the doc how it is that she can readily and more easily get her hands on meth than the pain pills she needs. I can’t say shit because I have no idea where my son is going with this mess.

What I do know is between him and his sisters, the rest of the world is lucky I’m taking this outfit legit. He’s eighteen fucking years old. I shudder to think what he’d become in a few more years if I didn’t take the family business in a different direction. What’s worst is I can’t talk to anyone about this; it would scare the shit out of his mother, my wife; and my own father would probably applaud him and give him pointers on how to be even more of a monster.

I say monster because had it not been for his strict moral code of ethics, that’s just what the hell he’d be. The scary thing is, he hasn’t broken a sweat. He comes down to the breakfast table every morning, kisses his mom and me on the cheek, teases his sisters, and smiles at Gia like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t just given my men orders to do some outlandish shit that even I wouldn’t have thought up in a million years.

I find myself sometimes watching him with something approaching awe. I know he knows that Tommy and the crew tell me the shit he’s got them doing, but he hasn’t mentioned it to me on his own and doesn’t seem to mind me knowing that he’s basically Al Capone reincarnated.

His poor mother, I think like me, she thought that with the girl in the picture, he’d settle down, my ass. I think he’s using her situation to cut his teeth. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen my son at work before, but those things were minor compared to this. It’s like he’s declared war on Fontane and his family; then again, after what the Becky woman did, I can’t say that I blame him.

I’ll cut to the chase here; the thing that’s bothering me the most is the fact that I can’t get a bead on what he’s up to pertaining to Sicily. I’m not sure if he wants me to think that he’s given up on that, which is a touchy subject because we’re both still playing cat and mouse. He doesn’t know that I know that he knows; that sort of thing, so how the hell do I broach the subject?

Lancelot hasn’t been able to find shit, or he’s not telling me if he has, and all of my other efforts have been wasted. Now, as to why this scares the hell out of me, he’s not hiding what he’s done so far with the Fontane situation, and some of that shit is pretty bad. So, what exactly is he planning for Sicily that he’s kept it so well hidden?

He has my team doing his dirty work here while meticulously evading the team I’d hired to keep tabs on him, and he’s doing it masterfully. From what Tommy divulged, Fontane is in for a world of hurt if what I suspect Gabe is up to is true. He’s had only a little more than a month to put together this diabolical scheme; he’s had years to plan for Sicily.

“Didn’t I hire you lot to keep an eye on him? How come you’ve given me nothing so far? He still giving you lot the slip?”

“He doesn’t even acknowledge our presence. And half the time he leaves, we don’t even know that he’s gone.” Slippery little shit. I taught him too well, or someone did. I should’ve put a stop to those weekly chess games between him and the old man. I think maybe I need to have another talk with him about the shit he teaches my kid.