Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
“Oh, we are thankful, and appreciate you, too. Please tell Melba we also appreciate her part in this, and let her know I said hello.”
“I certainly will. You have a great day.” Grinning wide, she ended the call and sat back in her seat, twirling her pen around as she propped her feet on her desk and crossed her ankles. Satisfied as fuck.
With his permission, I’ll be forging his signature and getting this taken care of ASAP. The last thing we are is a sitting duck. This reminds me of a poem my mama wrote in one of her journals that I got to read:
Where there is a will, there is a place to kneel and pray.
Satan tried to disturb the peace, but then the river flowed,
and washed the evil away.
The ripples in that water said, ‘Satan, you can’t have your way.
Not last week, not tomorrow, and damn sure not today…’
Francesco’s home was located in an affluent part of town. He prided himself on having the best of everything: cars, furnishings, mistresses. But still, family remained the most important thing. Toto Cotugno’s, ‘L’italiano’ was playing as he motioned for Javier to open his office door and let Cyrus ‘The Wilde Bull’ inside.
They immediately shook hands and hugged lightly. Cyrus sat down before him, humbly grasping his beautiful cowboy hat. Cyrus liked flashy jewelry and clothing—something they had in common, though at times, Cyrus leaned a bit more towards the flamboyant side of the aisle.
“Cyrus,” he lit a long cigar, then offered the old timer one, “are you sure we’re not related?” Francesco joked. “I swear I have some of the same clothes you do, fine sir.”
Cyrus chuckled and leaned forward, allowing Francesco to light his cigar for him.
“I get most of my clothin’ hand-made and tailored, but I appreciate the compliment all the same. Now, about this liquor…” He blew smoke out the side of his mouth. “I’ve got two steakhouses in Dallas that could really use—”
“Hold on, just a moment.” Francesco put up his hand. “Let’s toast.” He poured them each a glass of dry red wine. Cyrus picked up his glass, and they raised them in the air at the same time. “To infinite, wonderful surprises, and alliances!” They placed their drinks to their lips, and after sipping fell into a bit of small talk.
“Cyrus, I’m so happy you came.” He leaned back in his chair and studied the man sitting across from him. “You see, you and I go way back, and I’ve seen you change over time.”
“Yeah? How so?”
“Well, I always believed that for both of us, family came first. The blood, as you say.”
Cyrus’ forehead creased and his brows bunched. “That’s true. Nothin’ has changed about that. I prove it every day.”
“Do you?” Francesco loosely held on to his cigar. “I think you have changed. Or maybe, you were always this way, but covered it well. Either way, we need to discuss this. Now, I’m not one to tell another man how to run his business,” he pointed at himself, “but I found it curious how when you asked me to help you with a guy—get his attention so to speak—ya never mentioned that he was your grandson until after the fact.”
Cyrus sat a bit straighter, then set his cigar in an ashtray. Smoke eddied past his face like a sheer white veil.
“This again? Kage and I have a complicated history, and I knew you wouldn’t understand,” a slightly nervous laugh fell from his lips, “but I wasn’t deliberately trying to hide it from you.”
“Well see, that’s just the thing, Cyrus… I have grandchildren, just like you do. Many of them, actually. Sixteen, to be exact, and one on the way, and no matter what, I couldn’t imagine hurting either of my daughters by puttin’ their sons, my grandchildren, in a mental institution against their will, on and off for three years.” He narrowed his gaze on the man; his heart filled with disgust. “Don’t you think you were a little hard on the beaver?” He smirked.
“No, Francesco, I don’t. That boy had a gun pointed at my head as I slept one night. Thankfully, I was a quicker draw than him, but I practiced mercy. I was able to get the gun away from him. I’m sure if your grandson pointed a gun to your fuckin’ slick back head, he’d be dead.”
“Nah, only if I was left with no other choice. But see, it was your choices that led to that night, isn’t that right? He was a kid… an angry kid, and you did something to cause that anger, Cyrus. I want you to be man enough to tell me what that was. To finally admit it.”
“What is this? Groundhog Day? We’ve already talked about this.”
“No, I talked, but you danced around the discussion. I asked questions that were left unanswered. Before we move forward with the liquor deal, I need those replies, Cyrus, and I need them right now.”