“Whoa, hold on.” Don Moretti turned on the other don like an angry bear. “Lemme tell you something. If you called my dead mother a hood rat bitch, I’d break your friggin’ nose in a New York minute. The problem is your boys didn’t have the stugots to back up their mouths. That’s your issue. If you’re raising a son who can’t defend himself, maybe you oughta teach him how to keep his mouth shut. Did I hear Tino say he called my boys guineas? Where are they learning that shit, Carmine? Does your family have a problem with guineas?” He turned to Dominic and Andrew, who physically shrank back. “I’m Siciliano. I’m dark. You wanna call me a guinea?” When both boys shook their heads, Don Moretti turned back to his rival and arched an eyebrow, as if daring him to do what his son wouldn’t. Then he looked to Father John behind the desk and held up his hands. “I still don’t understand what the fucking problem is. If you’ll forgive me, Father, but I just don’t get it.”
“We don’t attack other students when we have an issue,” Father John said evenly, as if he was accustomed to dealing with this type of problem. “The problem is the violence.”
“So it’s okay to insult them? To insult their dead mother? The woman isn’t even cold in her grave. He called Tino a succhiacazzi. For someone who has such a problem with Sicilians, it sounds like your boy’s looking for a tan boyfriend. Forgive me, Father, I don’t wanna say anything bad about the Brambinos, but we all know—”
“Okay,” Don Brambino cut him off.
“I dunno what this boy is seeing at home or—”
“We’ll give him a pass.” Don Brambino sighed. “We’ll just give him a pass this time.”
“You’ll give him a pass. Are you shitting me, Carmine?” Don Moretti let out a sharp, angry laugh. “If your sister wasn’t married to Frankie, I’d start a war over that. I’m giving your boys a friggin’ pass.” He pointed at Dominic. “You call my grandson a succhiacazzi again, and I’m gonna take it personal. I don’t care if you’re Carina’s cousin, you’re gonna learn real fast, if you fuck with my Borgata, it’s gonna hurt. Come on.” He snapped his fingers at Tino and Nova. “We’re done.”
No one had anything else to say.
Don Moretti dropped the mic, and Tino wasn’t even exactly sure how, but he and Nova followed after him before things changed.
Aldo Moretti didn’t go places without an entourage. He was the don of the largest crime family in New York, probably in the whole friggin’ country, not that Tino was keeping tabs, but he did notice the don had a lot of henchmen.
Lead henchman in charge of protecting the don was the original Lost Boy.
“Eh!” Carlo held out his hands when Don Moretti unlocked the door to the back and opened it for Tino and Nova. “You broke that little prick’s nose?” He burst out laughing, despite the Brambinos still within hearing distance. “School hasn’t even started yet, and you’re starting shit.”
“Carlo—” the don reprimanded.
“I love this kid.” Carlo grabbed Nova and pulled him into the crook of his arm. Then he kissed the top of Nova’s head. “I friggin’ love this guy.” He messed up Nova’s hair, because he was one of the few people who could get away with it. Then he leaned down and whispered, “Lost Boys fucking fly. We fly, right? We’re better than them.”
“The Brambinos. I hate those sick cunts,” one of the other guys guarding the don said, making it obvious he didn’t really understand the Lost Boys reference. “Someone needed to break his nose. My boy Johnny says that Dominic has got a mouth on him that would make a saint wanna murder him.”
“Come on.” Don Moretti messed up Tino’s hair and then looked down at Tino’s feet and let out a barking laugh. “That cast, Tino. Jesus, it’s no wonder they’re calling you a succhiacazzi.”
“The stugots on this guy.” Carlo reached over and pushed Tino’s head. “He doesn’t care. He’s got the chops to own that cast.”
Once they got out into the parking lot, Don Moretti looked at the Camaro Nova was driving, and then turned to study Tino and Nova. “You know, the reason those coglioni are treating you like trash is ’cause you’re both dressed like bums. Look at this.” He gestured to Nova standing there in jeans and one of Romeo’s old shirts that hung long and loose on him. “You been going to the jail dressed like this? With my last name on the paperwork?”
“I have nicer clothes. My brother made sure we had nice stuff. We didn’t go to school looking like merda.” Nova shrugged and looked away. “I just haven’t had time to go get the rest of our stuff and—”
“Look, you’re gonna be in this family. You dress like you’re in this family, capisce?” The don leaned down and got in Nova’s face. “I don’t care where you came from. I believe a Borgata needs some hard blood; otherwise we turn out like those pussies the Brambinos, but you dress like you belong. You act like you belong. Always.”
“Okay,” Nova agreed, though Tino knew he really didn’t want to spend money on clothes. “I’ll take Tino shopping tomorrow.”
“That’s it?” the don asked him. “You don’t got anything else to say about it?”
“No.” Nova shook his head. “I should’ve made sure we dressed nice when we registered. I fucked up. It won’t happen again.”
“You’re supposed to say, Hey, Don, gimme some friggin’ money if you want me to dress nice.” The don smiled at Nova, looking amazed, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with him. “You’re fourteen years old. If you register for school looking like a bum, whose fault is that? It’s your father’s fault. That makes it my fucking fault.” He reached out and rubbed Nova’s hair affectionately. “This kid. Weight of the fucking world on his shoulders.”