Caffe Italiano- Chapter 2

Robert Carcueso

Living in the lifestyles of the mafia, your existence can go one of two ways: You do what you can in your family, or you die trying. My father, Antonio Carcueso, used to be the genuine definition of his phrase in the mafia as the underboss. The Carcueso Family was the most feared mafia family in Staten Island next to the Gambino and Colombo crime families. My father ruled with an unforgiving force, however that didn’t give up on him from being a family man. As his sole son, I used to be the heir and I had to analyze the ways of the business. My father ran his own private law firm which catered to those who have been wrongly convicted of crimes.

However, things slowly changed two years prior, when he was arrested for drug-related expenses and extortion for the duration of the largest Mafia bust in the records of Staten Island. It turned out that my father was ratted out by means of his brother, my uncle, José Carcueso due to the fact he weighed out his selections to perchance get a shorter time through cooperating with the Feds. In reality, he was jealous of the truth that my father was once going to put me in command instead of him.

“André, hai trovalto qualcolsa (have you determined something)?” I exclaimed as I enter my father's study to prepare a drink. André was a longtime friend, the son of one of my father’s close friends. André’s job is to be my eyes and ears in my absence. I assigned Andre to locate any information on this waitress which have to be a minor venture for him. “ I don’t recognize how finding any information on some random girl is going to lighten your mood for today, however, I don’t disappoint caro amico (dear friend),” Andre stated following in the study.

My uncle added more drama to my doorstep, the worst form of drama. My father confronted dying in prison due to the fact his brother was jealous and wanted control. Meanwhile, I took over the reins and had to keep the commercial enterprise going whilst also dealing with my uncle.

After preserving a close eye on the guys and keeping up with clients at the firm, I went to breakfast at Vinny’s. My thinking nonetheless wandered to that waitress. She was once naive however had a positive persona about her that I simply couldn’t shake off.

In his hand used to be a blank manila folder, which he exceeded throughout the desk. I opened it to see separate copies of citizenship documentation for the waitress and another woman who looked to be in her late 70s.

“Her name is Malika Renalwe; 22 years old and the only child of Iman Renalwe. Both had been in the beginning from Kingston, Jamaica, however, because of Iman fell ill with stage three lung cancer, both female relocated to the U.S. to find high-quality chemotherapy. Malika’s a waitress at Vinny’s and she’s single.” two Andre’s voice soon grew to be non-existent as I stared at the image of Malika feeling the burn of the Jack Daniels trailing down my throat. The way the lighting complimented her mocha hinted skin or the indiscreet strands of hair that cover her darkish brown eyes as if they were hiding from my sight.

I will see you once more mia cara ( my dear). Very soon indeed.