Page 68 of Never Say Never

Every time I thought about walking away, washing my hands and taking out the contacts, I thought about York. We would never see each other again.

Call me weak but I still wasn't ready yet.

The phone vibrated once more and I picked it up.

"Hello—"

"When I call, you answer," Dad said. His voice was always the same thick, rough timbre from all the years he smoked cigars and spoke bullshit.

"Benito—"

"Don't start about your brother. He's letting shit slide right now. Back in my day, we took care of anyone who dared disrespect us."

"He's also brought in three times the amount of revenue since taking over. He knows what he's doing, Pop."

Dad spat, the sound vulgar and moist in my ear. "He's soft."

Benito, soft? I'd laugh, but I knew it would piss him off. My brother was far from soft. He was smart. He played his cards right. Letting his crazy side out to play wasn't a smart move. People were constantly watching him, he took on things our father couldn't achieve, even though he'd tried.

"What can I help you with, Dad?" I made my way over to my kitchen, rummaging through, knowing there was nothing in any of the cabinets or fridge. I could cook but I didn't like to do it here. I only went to the store for the bare minimum, and even then, I didn't get much.

"I need you to take care of something for me."

Shaking my head no, I already knew the route this was going. "I can't blow my cover."

"If you're good at what you do, you won't."

Fixing myself a glass of water, I thought about how to turn Dad down. He never took no for an answer. He had a way of making people, mainly his sons, feel like pathetic, mindless shits unless we did what he said.

"You're a Vitale at the end of the day. Don't tell me you forgot while playing a fed."

"No."

"You sure they didn't brainwash you? There wasn't much there to start off with."

I bit my tongue, keeping any smart remark to myself. At the end of the day he was still my father, even if the shit that came out of his mouth made me want to take a bat to his head. Blood trickled over my taste buds, the small inkling of pain not enough to take the edge off.

"What do you need done, Pop?"

"You sure you’re up for it?"

I slammed the full glass of water in the sink. Fuck, was it everyone's goal to push every last button I had? It wasn't enough I was going through shit with York, but add my dad's bullshit and I was ready to say fuck it all.

"I have things to do. Either tell me or I'm getting off."

"Now look who started their period. Told your mother plenty of times not to coddle you two. Turned you into a bunch of sissies."

"Dad," I growled.

He couldn't be serious right now. I couldn't take this.

"Calm down and take the panties out of your ass. I have a few men coming over from Italy. I need you to make sure they get through just fine. I also have someone for you to take care of."

I paused, why was he getting me involved? "Benito know about this?"

"Am I talking to Benito?" Before I could answer, my father kept talking. "No, I'm saying what needs to be done."

But he wasn't in charge anymore. I was unsure how Benito was handling our father being on his turf, but if he didn't nip it in the bud soon, he was going to have a former Don trying to strip him of power.