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Chapter Nine

Michael: 1964

‘I’m comin’ to your grandma’s funeral,’ Mamie Giovanni announced, as she flounced round the store picking out canned goods and tossing them into a basket carried by one of her husband’s henchmen, who trailed behind her.

‘You don’t have to do that,’ Michael answered, surprised that she’d suggested it.

‘Yes, I do,’ Mamie insisted. ‘I knew her, I should be there.’

‘That’s real nice of you, Mrs G.’

‘Nice, schmice,’ she said, with a casual shrug. ‘It’s the least I can do.’

Grandmother Lani had passed away in the middle of the night. She wasn’t alone: Michael had hired a nurse to sit with her. Unfortunately the nurse had fallen asleep, failing to notice that her patient had died until early morning. Then the woman had panicked and run round the house yelling hysterically that it wasn’t her fault.

Filled with guilt that he hadn’t been with his grandma at her passing, Michael had immediately called the doctor, who came over and later issued a death certificate. It was all very depressing.

He wasn’t sad that Grandma Lani had died. At the end she was senile and in pain, so it was almost a relief to see an end to her suffering. He’d miss her though, she’d always treated him well.

Vinny didn’t seem too upset. ‘She’s better off where she is,’ he’d said, staring at a rerun of I Love Lucy. ‘This is a shitty world. Now at least she can have some peace.’

Michael was glad he didn’t share the same attitude. He had no desire to follow his dad into a life of doom and gloom. He wanted more, he wanted everything he could get. In fact, he wouldn’t mind being like Vittorio Giovanni, a man who had respect and money. Everybody talked about Vito being a gangster, but he’d seen no signs of it. As far as he could tell, Vito Giovanni was a smart businessman who did things his way.

Two years ago, Mamie had kept her promise and introduced him to her husband. She’d told Vito she’d known Michael since he was a kid, and that they should be good to him. To please his wife, Vito had put various small jobs his way–such as occasionally delivering a package or storing stuff at his shop.

‘I gotta say I like ya, kid,’ Vito had told him, after a few months. ‘You’re smart’ you’ll do okay’s long as you don’t fuck up.’

‘Fuck what up?’ Michael had asked.

‘Anything,’ Vito had said, and roared with laughter.

‘Don’t expect my husband to come to the funeral,’ Mamie said, as she roamed round the shop in her usual outfit of high heels, tight skirt and low-cut sweater.

‘Didn’t think he would,’ Michael answered.

‘You’ll ride in the car with me,’ she added, tossing two cans of tomato sauce into her basket.

‘Can’t,’ he said, going behind the counter. ‘Gotta go with my dad.’

‘Hmm,’ she mused, walking over and leaning on the counter, revealing quite a bit of deep cleavage. ‘It’ll be somethin’ seein’ Vinny again.’ She paused, licking her over-glossed lips. ‘He ever talk about me?’

‘Uh…I never heard him say anythin’,’ Michael replied, trying to avert his eyes from her generous bosom.

‘Does he know you’ve been doing things for my husband?’

‘No,’ Michael said quickly. ‘An’ I’d sooner you didn’t tell him.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ she agreed, sucking on her lower lip. ‘Knowing Vinny, he wouldn’t approve.’

Just how well did she know Vinny? Whenever he pushed for details, she changed the subject, and every time he asked Vinny, all he got was a blank stare.

Now that Grandmother Lani had passed on, Michael started wondering who she’d left the shop and the house to–him or Vinny? It didn’t make any difference–they’d be his eventually. He’d been running the shop by himself for the last year. Vinny rarely bothered coming in, and even if he did, he didn’t know shit about anything.

Lately Michael had found that women were tripping over themselves to get near him, which was okay because Polly was long gone. She’d married Cyril and moved out to the boondocks. No big loss. Even Mamie Giovanni occasionally threw out a hint that she might be interested–not that he’d ever think of going anywhere near her. First of all she was twenty years older than he was, and second, she was married to a man he wouldn’t dare cross.

Still…he’d noticed that flirting put him in good stead with women. They got off on being told how pretty they looked, or how nice they smelt. He wasn’t stupid: he realized that his exceptional good looks gave him plenty of advantages.

He’d made a one-night-a-week deal with the local motel, and every Friday he took a different female there. Sex was his way of relaxing, getting his rocks off, which put him in a good mood for the rest of the week. None of his ‘dates’ meant anything to him–they were all interchangeable. Women were easy, and in a way that took away the thrill.

The Giovannis treated him like family, inviting him over to their house on holidays and special occasions. He was closer to Vito than he was to his own dad.

He’d found out from one of Vito’s henchmen that Mamie couldn’t have children. She’d given birth once and the baby–a boy–was stillborn. After that it was a no-go situation. In his mind he began imagining that he was the son they’d never had.

On the day of the funeral, Vinny was in a worse mood than usual. He wheeled himself into the kitchen, scowling with anger. ‘Do I gotta go?’ he demanded, glaring at his son.

‘It’s your mom,’ Michael pointed out, feeling as if he were the adult in the relationship. ‘You havta show respect, Dad. It’s only right.’

He didn’t mention that Mamie Giovanni would be there. Truth was, he was interested in seeing how Vinny would react when he saw her.

‘Shit!’ Vinny muttered, slamming his coffee mug on to the table.

The neighbourhood turned out for the funeral. Grandma Lani had been quite

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