Accidental Mobster (2 page)

“I'm sorry—who are you?” Although her smile falters, Barb makes an effort to look confident, lifting herself to an imposing height, her high heels making up for any inches she lacks naturally. She is certainly taller than the man, but height alone is not going to give her an advantage.

“I'm here for Danny.” The man moves into the light as he speaks, his voice carrying a strong Jersey accent. He appears to be in his mid-forties, with a weathered face that has years of experience etched in tiny wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. He is good-looking and seems genuinely calm and confident, whereas Barb is struggling to appear composed. The man's words give me goose bumps—I can feel them on my arms as I hug them tighter around my body. I do not know whether to be frightened or excited by this stranger's claim on me.

“Well, sir, I am also here for Danny and I believe I have the law behind me.” Barb smirks at the man, obviously gaining more confidence in her court-appointed role. “And you still haven't told me who you are,” she accuses, as if the man has committed a crime for which she would be more than happy to arrest him.

But Barb's confidence can't change the cool self-assurance of the man. “Well, that's all great,” he says. “But I believe my authority will surpass yours. Danny is coming with me.”

Whoever this man is, he seems to know exactly who I am, even though he has yet to say anything to me. But at the moment, with Barb ready to whisk me off to some crazy foster family unless I give a statement against my dad, I am willing to take a chance on this stranger.

However, Barb is not ready to wave the white flag of surrender just yet. “No. I don't care who you are. I'm Barb Kluwer, the DA's assistant, and Danny is my property.”

The man's coolness finally melts. He starts laughing, and it is so catching, I find myself chuckling, despite the fact that I really feel like shoving Barb toward the gaping toilet for calling me her property. I have no idea why the man is so amused or why I feel like laughing right along with him. But it feels good to laugh, whatever the reason. The man's laughter fades, and he instantly becomes cool once more. “Well, Ms Kluwer, I'm not sure you would want your superiors to know that you promote foster homes that are less than kind to troubled kids, or that you are talking to Danny without proper authorization. Or you may not want your boss to know that you are
blackmailing
a child into testifying against his own father.”

I flinch at being called a child, yet I am thrilled the man heard all of Barb's threats. Barb cringes; she knows she is caught. She glares at the man, perhaps hoping that her hatred will be enough to destroy his confidence.

“That's a ridiculous accusation you've made,” she snaps. The man does not respond. All three of us know Barb has lost. “What would it take to make you walk away?” she asks in final desperation.

The man shakes his head. “I won't,” he answers. “When you go back to your office, you may want to have a chat with your boss about me. He may refresh your memory concerning who I am.”

Her eyes narrow. “Who are you?”

The man smiles as if he were having the most pleasant conversation of his life. “Why, Ms Kluwer, have I not told you?” He is grinning now, showing a full set of white, perfect teeth. “I'm Gino Vigliotti—Danny's godfather.”

* * * *

I sit quietly in the passenger seat of a pristine Lexus SUV as Gino climbs into the driver's seat. I still haven't said a word to him.

After hearing Gino's name, Barb left the house with threats of revenge and legal consequences (and much to my amusement, she tripped over the toilet as she hurried out of the bathroom).

Gino grabbed a washcloth from the sink and cleaned the cut on my head with warm water. I stood completely still, unsure of what to say or do. I felt that I should say thanks or ask a few questions, but instead, I kept silent while the warm cloth cleaned the blood from my head. Then Gino grabbed another washcloth and pressed it to my cut.

“Here,” he said gruffly, moving my own hand to the cloth. “Hold this until we get to the hospital.”

At first I was alarmed. Was Gino also planning to make me give a statement concerning my dad? Had I been saved from one fire only to jump into another?

Gino must have known what I was thinking. “We'll just tell them you took a spill down the stairs,” he said. “I'd like to skip the hospital completely, but you need stitches.” He then took me gently by the arm and guided me to the vehicle in which I now sit, holding the cloth carefully to the cut on my head.

I struggle to find words to say, but my mind is blank. I finally realize just how awful the events of the last several hours have been. And I have no idea what is going to happen next. The charcoal gray exterior of Gino's Lexus is simple, but the inside is complete luxury. As I settle into the soft leather seat, I realize that I have never seen, much less ridden in, anything like this. I spend a few moments staring at the sleek GPS system mounted in the dashboard, which is only outdone by the DVD player situated a little further down the console. Everything is automatic—mirrors, seat belts, locks, windows, and seats—and the rear view mirror is outfitted with a compass and an outside temperature gauge. The most fascinating item to me, however, is the stereo system, which has an MP3 player plugged into an elaborate satellite radio. I have never known an adult who owned an MP3 player. The SUV drives smoothly, and I lean back against the seat.

“Be careful, Danny,” Gino warns. “Don't get blood on the seats.” I quickly sit up. Gino's tone of voice is not irritated, just frank. I can appreciate frank. My dad has never said anything to me that did not carry a threat of violence.

The hospital is about as much fun as five stitches can be. The doctor and nurses study Gino suspiciously when he tells them the tale about me taking a tumble down the recently mopped stairs. But Gino seems unconcerned by their scowls, and I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling. The only stairs in my shabby little house are the two crumbling concrete steps that lead up to the front door.

The doctor is gentle as he examines my head, as if sorry for not confronting Gino about the real cause of my injury. I appreciate the kindness, but I also feel a little guilty about Gino taking the blame for my dad's actions. I try not to think about my dad—I don't want to lose my resolve to protect him. But the events of the evening have certainly shown me that, of the few people in my life, Del Higgins is not someone I will ever be able to trust again. I have always felt, deep down, that my dad would be there for me when it truly counted—that years of verbal abuse and a bad temper would be put aside if I was in a true crisis. Those feelings are gone. I wince at a sharp stab of pain in my forehead. Yes, definitely gone. The doctor pulls out a needle of alarming size. “I'm going to inject this into your head so you won't feel any pain from the stitches. It'll just sting for a moment.”

I grit my teeth, thinking it strange that pain is necessary to avoid more pain. But I can't let Gino know that the needle scares me. I hardly know this man—my godfather?—but I don't want to show him any weakness. I feel that being brave is a quick way to earn Gino's respect. And that, more than anything else, is what I want most at this moment. The stitches take only minutes. As the doctor finishes, Gino briefly inspects my head and gives a small nod of approval. The doctor eyes him warily. “We'll need you to sign some paperwork, Mister Higgins.”

Gino shakes his head. “It's Mister Vigliotti. Gino Vigliotti.”

The doctor glances down at my chart. “You're not the father?”

Gino shakes his head. “No, I'm his godfather.”

The doctor drops the chart to his side. He is now openly glaring at Gino. “I'm sorry, Mister Vigliotti. We're going to need to speak to one of the parents.”

“That won't be necessary,” Gino says casually. I am impressed that Gino is unfazed by the doctor's hostility. “I gave the nurse the necessary paperwork. His mother, Penny Higgins, made sure everything is in order.”

The doctor is surprised, but he doesn't push the issue. He has too many patients to spend any more time worrying about me. I'm shocked by what Gino has just said. First, I have never heard Mom go by the name “Penny.” She has firmly told my dad many times that her parents named her Penelope, and by God, who was she to shorten what must have been important to them. I always thought that my mom just enjoyed the uniqueness of Penelope, whereas Penny sounded ordinary—like the coin.

But I am most surprised by Gino's claim that Mom herself gathered the necessary paperwork to give him temporary care of me. I do not think my mother ever had a responsible moment in her life. And how had she been able to pull herself together so quickly? Only a few hours have passed since she was led from the house screaming like an angry toddler. Yet, I am also hopeful. My mom would not leave me with someone she didn't trust, would she?

Well, I guess it depends on how desperate she is.

Gino heads for the door. “Let's go.”

I jump down from the examining table and quickly follow him. He fills out a zillion forms before we can leave, but we are soon out of the hospital and back in the Lexus. I'm already becoming attached to the vehicle. As someone who has never had nice things, especially not new things, the SUV is a window into a lifestyle that I have only ever heard about and never dreamed I would experience.

The drive starts out much like the first one did. Neither Gino nor I speak a word. However, my curiosity eventually wins out, and I nervously clear my throat. “Mister Vigliotti, I—I guess you know my mom?”

Gino stares straight ahead. “Call me Gino, Danny. And of course I know your mom—I'm your godfather. I don't think someone would choose a stranger for that, do you?”

Gino's gruff answer does nothing to ease my nerves, but I find that this man I barely know impresses me. “No, I guess not,” I say quietly. “It's just—I've never heard of you. I'm not even sure I know what a godfather is.”

I am not prepared for Gino's abrupt laugh. He shakes his head as he chuckles. “Well, that's not really your fault,” he says, a grin spanning his tanned features. “If I were a good godfather, I guess you'd know what role I'm supposed to fill. But I'm making up for lost time now. Your mom ignored me for years, probably to save up for a really big favor like she's asking now.”

I don't like being a
favor
. “I'm sorry to be any trouble,” I say. “I probably could have been left on my own and been just fine. I've practically been taking care of myself my whole life anyway.”

Gino's face immediately turns serious. “Danny, I didn't mean it to sound like you're any burden at all. It's just that I haven't heard from your mom in ages, so I was a little surprised by her call.” He pauses and then glances at me. “I'm glad I'll get a chance to know you, Danny, while you stay with us in Newcastle.”

I turn to Gino in surprise because I had assumed he was taking me home. “I'll be staying with you?”

“Yes—for a little while. Your mom needs to get some affairs in order before she's able to be a parent again. Or maybe a parent for the first time.” He smiles quickly at me. “You seem like a tough guy. You'll be a good influence on my kids—they're spoiled rotten, and I doubt they would be able to survive very long without my wife and me to pamper them.”

Kids? This is all becoming very complicated. Here is a perfect stranger taking me in for a few days, with children of his own. How will Gino's kids feel about me invading their space? Because I've never had a sibling, I have no idea how it will feel to live with other kids.

“How old are they?” I ask.

Gino rolls his eyes. “Not old enough. Or maybe too old. I don't know. Julia is sixteen, and Vince is seventeen. Vince is old enough to drive, of course, which makes me really nervous, and Julia's got a boyfriend who's a freshman in college. That's my next project—to put an end to that!” He laughs again, as though scaring off a college student will be fun. So both of Gino's kids are around my age. I wonder what that will be like. And will Gino's wife be okay with me staying in their home? I can't imagine how angry my own mom would be if she had to take in another teenager. Some days, she barely tolerates
me
in the house.

“Um, look,” I say, hesitating, “I don't want to intrude on your family. We could just stay at my house, you know, until my mom comes back.”

Gino smirks. “I don't know about you, Danny, but I think I'd prefer to stay at my house. You might prefer it too, once you get there.”

“I just meant, you know, I don't want to put anyone out. I definitely don't mind sleeping on the sofa. I hate to be in the way.”

“Don't worry about it, Danny. No one's sleeping on a sofa. Even the dog's got a bed—that spoiled ankle-biter. Don't worry about the family. They'll all be glad to have you. And if not, they can go stay in your house for a few days, and they'll come crawling back!”

I'm a little insulted. “Hey, my house isn't that bad. My parents did the best they could.”

I notice Gino's look of doubt. “Okay, okay. Maybe not ‘the best they could,' but I'm not complaining.”

Gino smiles. “We'll see what you think a couple days from now.”

With that, Gino pulls the Lexus into the driveway of a beautiful, ivory-colored stucco house. Not a house, a mansion. I lean back, trying to take in the enormous structure with one glance, and I can't.

Gino opens the door and steps out of the SUV. “Come on. I'll introduce you to the family.”

Suddenly, I panic. “Uh, Gino, I completely forgot! I need to get some stuff. I don't even have a toothbrush! Maybe we should go back to my house and I can pack a bag. I'll be really quick. But I'll need some stuff.” I am rambling, desperate to be somewhere familiar again. This is all overwhelming.