Chapter 4: The Representative From The Rinaldi Family

Massimo

“Our survival is on the line.”

Dominic Rinaldi pushed away his dinner plate and reclined in his chair at the head of the table. His hands settled on his stomach, the large gold ring on his pinky finger glinting.

The heavy dinner had left his eyelids droopier than usual. He peered lazily around the table like he would be out any second, like there was a chance he would be mid sentence and then he would face plant into the table.

It wouldn’t be the first time. The men in attendance, the top men in the family were more than used to it.

Everybody in the Rinaldi family was used to the circus display that Massimo's father put on every time they had a meeting. They were part of the act. The more incompetent Pa was, the greater the possibility it would work to their advantage.

It was just a matter of when. Who will take the mantle and how.

He remained the only one uninterested in any of the politics. He might as well be an outsider altogether.

The butler rushed forward to present Pa his after-dinner drink and cigar. Pa puffed on the cigar, taking his time to finish his train of thought.

“Where was I?” Smoke blew past his lips and curled in the air as he spoke.

“Oh, yeah. Our survival. It’s on the line.”

Several guys nodded their heads along, some with hunger on their faces, others with cool composure. Many of them were blood-related, but that hasn’t stopped them circling him like vultures.

Stefan leaned closer, his face breaking into a grin as crooked as his nose.

“Uncle, there’s nothing to worry about. If you would like the situation handled, I can take care of it. I have always negotiated the best deals.”

Pa considered his offer, then nodded.

“That is true, nephew. Dante taught you well.”

“He learned from you,” Stefan said. The flattery oozing from his voice was enough to nauseate anyone.

“You have made bad business decisions for Disc Co,” points out my younger half brother, Matteo. He was shorter, fatter, blonder, and worst of all, more spoiled than anybody at the table.

A product of an affair, he had convinced himself he was the rightful heir regardless. He shot Pa a petulant look, like he was expecting an apology.

“If it should be anybody, it should be me. Your son.”

“Matteo,” Pa puffed his cigar smoldering between his fingers.

“You don’t wake up before noon. If women with big bazookas aren’t there, you’re never interested. In fact, I’m surprised you made it here tonight.”

A round of laughter came out of the guys seated at the table. Other capos like Joey D’Amato and Vic Sandino don’t miss the chance to laugh at Matteo’s expense.

His younger brother responded by sulking and turning red.

“It should be someone impartial,” offers up Marco, who may be the only family member he could stand for more than five minutes.

He shrugged, resembling every bit of the stereotypical capo that made women want to fuck him.

“I would be fine attending, uncle. If you can’t make up your mind.”

Pa waved off his offer like all the rest. He turned in Massimo's direction, a swirl of cigar smoke surrounding him.

“Massimo,” he wheezed.

“You’re going to be my representation at the meet up.”

The others around the table erupted in objections. Stefan leaned even closer than he already was, launching into a detailed explanation why it was a bad business move to send him.

Matteo wasted no time whining about how he’s always done everything Pa has asked, even though he was a lazy slob. Nobody was happy about Pa’s decision.

Not even him.

He sat with a deadpan expression and waited out their bitching.

He wouldn’t be here tonight if the dinner hadn’t been mandatory. And yet these fuckers believe he had any real interest in attending some meeting on the family’s behalf.

“There’s nothing I can do that hasn’t been negotiated,” He said once the complaints died down.

“It’s a waste of time. Choose someone else.”

“See!” Matteo exploded affronted by his nonchalance.

“He doesn’t even want the job, Pa you act like he’s your only son!”

“Hey, fat fuck, he has two nephews!” Stefan glared.

Before the outrage could spiral out of control again, Pa held up a hand to silence the room.

“Everybody needs to shut the fuck up. I’ve made my decision. It’ll be Massimo. He’s the least invested,  which means he’s not emotional like you nincompoops.”

Nobody dared to utter a word, though their glances at each other said enough.

For once, he didn't blame them. Pa’s logic made little sense.

Pa puffed on his cigar and then said,

“It’ll be different with you. Massimo. I have confidence you can talk them down. You can save Disc Co from Salvatore’s grubby paws. The D'Angelos like straight-shooter types. Get in, get out, get it done.”

Massimo left the dinner irritated that he had once again found himself in this position, representing Pa to plead for the life of a fucking sinking ship.

Everybody else headed to the strip club for the night.

Pa was already knocked out before they even drove off.

He headed into the city too, but for different reasons. Dresden after dark was an ominous landscape of tall buildings shrouded in shadows and streets that never have enough lamp posts to ever truly feel secure.

One of the country’s biggest cities, it was also one of the most dangerous.

People out after dark were either looking to cause trouble or asking for it.

He was neither. As he drove down the urban enclave in a car worth more than most people’s homes, he was his own category. He was the trouble.

And no one dared fuck with him.  Anybody that did would be making the stupidest, gravest decision of their lives.

He drove to the heart of the city, where the Prima Motion Performing Arts Theater resided, and he parked just outside.

He didn't go in at first since tonight’s show had  already started and was crowded to maximum capacity.

Instead, with a painful stitch in his chest, he sat and pondered over one question and one question only.

Was this where he would find his angel?

The beautiful ballerina from his dreams that had saved him many nights over. She appeared at the height of his torture and took away the pain one graceful spin at a time.

For so long, he had struggled to remember her. His mind was a fog from the medications and treatments. He had questioned whether he had  even dreamed  about her at all. If it was just hallucinations caused by too many medications or the intense pain.

If she wasn't some other woman he had come across in the past and somehow he had  manifested her into this angelic figure.

But for every sharp stab at his heart came a beat of certainty.

His angel had saved me. She will be able to save him.

She was the key to his life or the key to his demise. Regardless, he felt compelled. He felt drawn to this woman from his dreams for a reason that was still unknown to him.

Finding her was the only worthy endeavor he wanted to spend his time on. Serving as his Pa’s representative at his business meetings was not.

He doesn't give a fuck if their family survived. He doesn't give a fuck about anything.

About anyone except for his angel.

His ballerina.