Dad wastes no time and kicks the body into the small makeshift grave and then looks to Romeo. I stand up quickly, hoping dad will just leave him alone.
“I’ll bury him. It’s fine,” I insist, trying to protect my brother. I’m not a good brother, I still mess with him and do shit I probably shouldn’t, but when it comes to my dad, something inside of me always tries to shelter Romeo. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s because I see that Romeo isn’t cut out for the type of life dad wants him to lead. I can’t explain it. I feel sorry for my brother. My instincts scream to step in for him with our father time and time again so that’s what I do. Dad shoves me out of the way, his face looking angry already. This is a battle I obviously won’t win.
“Boy, get over here.” His voice sharp, Romeo’s head snaps in our direction.
Running my hands down my face, I already know shit is going to get out of hand. My brother and my dad can’t be around each other without a fight.
“Dad, please,” Romeo begs. Dad’s head tilts to the side, just barely, giving Romeo that look he has seconds before he snaps off and slaps one of us around. Yes, we both know exactly what our father means in a single glare. Romeo quickly gets up, crossing his arms and shuffles his feet against the dirt, slowly coming our way looking at the grave with weary eyes.
“Give him the shovel, Kieran,” Dad orders. I hold it out, handing it to Romeo, and he takes it with a shaky hand.
“Now, bury the fucker,” Dad clips. Romeo walks past me and starts shoving dirt onto the body. I watch to see if he’s crying, but he’s not. He just looks lost, as if he’s a robot and not really here. I wonder what’s going through his mind right now.
“Dad, just let me do it, he’ll screw it up,” I say, wanting to keep my brother from getting in more trouble or worse, scarring his soul in a way he might not come back from.
“Here, take one.” A pack of cigarettes are placed in my line of sight, ignoring my plea, my father is giving me a cue that Romeo isn’t getting out of this no matter what I try.
“Um,” I hesitate. I’m only ten. Mom would kill me if she knew I smoked. Even if my dad is the one giving them to me, mom will still have a fit. Romeo stops throwing dirt on the body and watches to see if I take one. He’s two years younger than me, I wonder if dad will offer him one too.
“Take it, you’ve earned it.” Dad shoves the pack farther into my personal space. Taking it from him, I pull a long slender cigarette out, the smell of tobacco crisp, reminding me of fresh-cut wood.
Putting the orange end between my lips, Dad leans over and lights it with a black lighter. I take a big puff, my mouth filling with the taste of metallic, and my lungs squeeze shut as if they’re refusing the toxic smoke making a cough tumble out of me.
Dad chuckles and pats my back hard. “Easy, buddy.” He continues to laugh, and it angers me. If I can bury a body, I can smoke a little cigarette. I try it again, this time a smaller inhale, and the urge to cough isn’t as harsh. The taste isn’t so bad this time either.
“One day, son, this will be you.” Dad crosses his arms, admiring the work my brother and I have done before him. “I’ll be the boss, and you will be underneath me. I need the best. I need you, son.” He shoves me in the arm with his elbow, and I nod in knowing.
Our family isn’t like most families. I learned that at a young age. I’ve heard my father talk of things he’s done along the years and that talk eventually graduated us to tonight.
Burying a body.
Someone who was breathing hours ago and now isn’t. But I know that he’s dead for a reason, he tried to hurt our family, or take advantage of us in some way. Or most importantly, he broke Omerta Law. Don’t talk to law enforcement about anything within the DeAngelo circle.
My grandpa is the top boss but he’s sick with cancer and eventually his body will lose the fight putting my father in the top spot, and if I’m old enough, I’ll be the underboss, or something like that. All I know is my dad’s dream is for me and Romeo to be Made Men.
Romeo tosses the last bit of loose dirt on the body, catching my attention. I don’t know where Romeo will stand in the line of our family. Maybe a soldier, one to do the small work we need done.