Ti Amo (Battaglia Mafia Series)
Sienna Mynx
Prelude to A Reckoning
June 1961 - Mondello, Sicily
“Papa?” Giovanni rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with his small fist. He felt his father’s touch, and heard his voice. When he blinked in the darkness, he realized it wasn’t a dream. Papa had returned. Most nights when Papa wasn’t in Mondello, Giovanni shared his mother’s bed. She’d read to him or told stories of the kings and knights of Ireland until he fell asleep resting against her breast. His mother always smelled like the flowers in her garden. When his father returned, the privilege of his mother’s gentle care was revoked. He suspected tonight his father had woken him for this purpose. Soon he’d be marched out to his cold room to sleep alone. He smiled up at the towering shadowy figure. Little Giovanni didn’t mind. He was glad to see his father home again.
The Don was a tall man, bulky in the chest, shoulders and arms. He wore fedoras that always cast his steely dark gaze in a deep shadow. He smelled of cigars, cedar wood, and whiskey. Tomosino stared down at his son in the dark, waiting.
“Yes Papa?” Giovanni asked.
“Up boy. Come with me, and don’t wake your ma-ma.”
Giovanni nodded. Only four-feet tall he needed a bit of assistance to ease out from under his mother’s protective embrace. In pajama feet he held on to his father’s large pointer finger. Together they left the room. One they entered the hall his father reached down and scooped him up. Giovanni was five years old and very capable of walking. For his father to lift him in his arms meant he would be taken out into the night. He held to his father’s neck, alert, a bit of fear mixed with excitement tightened his gut. He was going for a ride with Papa. Ma-ma would cry if she knew.
Many of his father’s men and brothers waited around vehicles with large bright headlights, making them appear like shadows against the glare. Giovanni was placed in the backseat of a car. Uncle Rocco reached from the front seat to pass him a grape sucker. Giovanni smiled.
“Prego!” Rocco said, which meant have some.
It tasted like the ones from the vineyard his uncle took Lorenzo and him to visit in Chianti. He loved the fat grapes and bitter olives they ate from the vines. He licked the sucker several times grinning. Ma-ma would be upset that he had a sweet treat after bedtime, but she was sleep. She wouldn’t know. Don Tomosino ruffled his hair. He called him a little candy muncher, and the men in the car laughed with the Don. Giovanni stuck out his purple tongue and showed it to his father, which made the Don wink. The drive wasn’t a long one. Their vehicle headed from the cozy serene streets of their small village to the country roads. He could barely see out of the window from the back seat. The glass looked dark and smoky. The only true light was the amber glow of his father’s cigar. Giovanni secretly inhaled the sharp tobacco smell that reminded him of licorice and burning wood. He and Lorenzo couldn’t wait to be older so they could smoke cigars.
“Papa? Sing with me! Lucciola lucciola, gialla gialla… metti la briglia alla cavalla… che la vuole il figlio del re… lucciola lucciola vieni con me…”