Almost immediately, Bruno starts to twirl the stick around as if it isn’t an almost six-foot piece of wood. His nimbleness with this skill is always awe inspiring to say the least. However, when Enzo joins in, I’m caught between the pair as they warm up.
Apparently, Enzo was using this to his biggest advantage as he takes the moment to hit a strike at Bruno’s leg, who blocks the attack and consequently swings around to hit his brother’s bicep. Again, it’s a blocked move, and continues in this dance of martial arts. The world exists to neither of them as they spin, swing, and gracefully try to win this round. I can’t help but laugh at their alpha personalities coming to life. It’s always been a tug of war contest between the pair. It’s always a matter of what one can do the other can do better. Conversely, they’re both experts at this skill and they both know the moves equally well.
Just as they become lost, the doors burst open and Manuel stumbles in. Immediately, I can see the swelling of his right eye and feel my panic grow. Enzo and Bruno have even stopped warring against one another to look at him.
“Manuel?” I call out, stopping what I’m doing. I mute the music, toss the remote aside, and rush to him. “What’s wrong?” I go over to him, and when he turns to face me, I can see the extent of the damage to his eye. “What the fuck happened to you?”
“Giovanni,” he mentions and reaches up to touch his own eye. He hisses and looks at me, and I swear I can only read fear. “I’ve done something wrong.”
Now Enzo and Bruno come to stand by me. I look to them, see the same mounting concern, and feel myself readying to kill Giovanni.
“What have you done?” Enzo asks, moving him to the couches and sitting him down. “What did you do that warranted the fucker to do this?”
“I didn’t know he was home already, and I was on the phone. He came in behind me,” Manual explains. He’s getting more nervous, his hands wringing together as his eyes water. He gives us a moment of eye contact before he begins to look away.
“Manuel, what in the hell is it?” Enzo ask, his voice bitten and poisoned with vicious angst.
“I’m gay,” Manuel mutters and loses his ability to look at us.
Well, to say I’m not shocked would be lie, but only because mafia families don’t do homosexuality. I saw how my father responded to the news of it once; if he finds out one of his own is inclined that way I dread to know the outcome. I couldn’t care less what Manuel is. He’s still my brother. I know my brothers will be the same – all but Giovanni, of course.
I thought I had reached my limit of hate toward Giovanni, but apparently, he just keeps pushing. Who does he think he is to condemn our own brother based on sexuality?
It's fine to bash me and cast me aside because of my emotional attachments, but to lash out because our brother isn't a heterosexual just incenses me to the extreme. From my peripheral vision, I can see my other brothers think the same thing, and I wonder where Carlo will be on this matter - with us or against us? It's not a hard choice that which I would put my money on, but the aggression Giovanni has shown to the baby of the family has me questioning everything.
“He’s not getting away with this,” Enzo says chucking the staff to one side. His anger seeps from every one of his pores, and I can see he’s trying hard not to lash out.
I look at Bruno, and I see him control his breathing. I thought I had caused anarchy in the Abbiati family fold, but apparently, we never knew it until now.
“Where is the fucker?!” Giovanni’s coarse voice pierces the air; he’s angry and he’s not hiding it. He’s gaining on the gym, his heavy feet coming down the wooden staircase, and I know he’ll be a monster.
However, the moment he’s in the room, Giovanni’s intent is quickly changed. Enzo goes in for the first attack. He charges, fists balled, and face taut with rage. His entire body now radiates high levels of maddening fury.
“What is your problem?” Enzo yells on approach. “He’s your brother.”
“He’s a fucking disgrace, Enzo! He’s not my brother!” Giovanni yells back, but is silenced when Enzo lands a solid punch to his jaw.
There are no words, just total disorder as the pair begins to viciously fight. I put my arm around Manuel, making sure he stays out of the way, and keep my eye on Bruno. I know he wants to be in Enzo’s position, but if he goes home busted up, Allana will lose her mind and demand all sorts of answers. I won’t put him in that predicament. I reach out for him, and I see how tormented he is with trying to starve his inner rage rather than feeding it and fighting Giovanni with Enzo.
“He’s not worth it,” I comment softly. “Let Enzo have this one.” When he gives me a nod, I know he’s only appeasing me, but what else can I do?