Jerry tried another tactic, looking down at the documents Sheila had brought him. “You were hugging, um, it says here, Benjamin Barberi.” He raised his eyes to meet Grant’s. “Do you know him?”
Apparently the feds were also watching his nephew. Things just kept getting better. In that moment, Grant decided simply to give up. Why keep fighting? It never got him anywhere. Listlessly he answered, “Yes, sir.”
“How do you know him?”
Grant averted his eyes. “He’s my nephew.”
There was a knock at the door, undoubtedly Jerry’s next parolee, and he shouted, “Go away! Come back later!” Not surprisingly, the knocking stopped.
A perplexed expression colored Stone’s face as he tried to regain his focus. “Benjamin Barberi is your nephew? How exactly are you related to him? Are—”
Resolving to end this pointless conversation, Grant butted in, “I was born Grant Barberi. My uncle Joe Madsen adopted me when I was twelve.” Watching Jerry struggle to understand this fresh information, he added, “Enzo Barberi, the Mafia don who shot a kid and got sentenced to life at Gurnee—he’s my father.” He exhaled derisively. “My family is a bunch of criminals. And I’m one of them.”
Jerry was dumbfounded by Grant’s explanation, but his mind remained on overdrive, sensing he was missing something. “Enzo Barberi is your dad? That means … Logan Barberi—he’s your … your brother?”
“Yes, sir,” Grant responded, trying to discern why his PO would care about Logan. Enzo was the name everybody knew. Enzo was the most shameful relative.
Jerry’s eyes bugged. “Does Taylor know any of this?”
Grant looked down. “Sophie? No, sir. I didn’t tell her about my family. I didn’t think she would want anything to do with me if I did.”
Jerry was almost speechless, but he soldiered on. “And do you know why Sophie went to prison?”
Now it was Grant’s turn to look confused. “Not the details. Why? Should I know?”
They didn’t know. Neither had any idea Grant’s brother was responsible for putting Sophie in prison. Sophie loved Grant, and she had no fucking clue who he was. Jerry felt sick just thinking about it.
“Sir? Are you okay?”
Jerry looked at Grant. “Why did you pull that robbery, Madsen? Back in 2006?”
Grant looked away, protesting, “It doesn’t matter—”
“Just answer my question,” he insisted.
“My brother and cousin threatened to kill my Uncle Joe unless I stole the money.”
Jerry inhaled sharply. “Jesus! Why didn’t you go to the police?”
“Yeah, right,” Grant scoffed. “That would have done a lot of good. Joe would have been in even more danger if the police had started sniffing around.”
Jerry shook his head. What a mess. “Why the hell would you go to Angelo’s house after what they did to you? Why would you put yourself in that danger?”
“It was Ben’s sixteenth birthday,” Grant retorted defensively. “He’s my nephew, and they’re already getting their claws into him. I’ve got to save him before it’s too late—just like my uncle saved me.”
Grant suddenly became aware of the handcuffs again—all trussed up, ready to return to prison—and lowered his head. “Well, like my uncle tried to save me. Obviously he failed.”
Juxtaposing the shock of discovering Grant’s criminal family with the injustice of his dark resignation to take the fall for crimes way beyond his control, Jerry felt a battle wage within him. Did this parolee deserve to return to prison? Or was he a good man trapped in bad circumstances? Sophie seemed to think the latter was true, but she didn’t really know what those bad circumstances entailed.
Jerry grabbed one of the photographs from his desk. “What’s that in your hand there?”
“Uh, a present for Ben?”
“So, you were there for a birthday party, and you only stayed …” He peered at the time stamps on the photographs. “Five minutes?”
“About that, yes, sir.”
“Did you discuss or engage in any illegal activity while you were there, Madsen?”
“Um, I don’t think so, sir. Well, my cousin Carlo Barberi approached me, but we pretty much just yelled at each other.”
Jerry popped out of his chair and quickly circled the desk. “On your feet,” he ordered.
Grant stood up, prepared to be hauled to a transport bus bound for Gurnee. Instead, Jerry unlocked his handcuffs.
Rubbing the raw skin on his wrists, Grant watched the PO clasp the cuffs back on his belt.
“I’m not returning to Gurnee?”
“You’re not in violation of your parole,” Jerry said. “You went to a family birthday party, that’s all. You weren’t attempting to associate with known criminals. It was a big misunderstanding.”
Expelling a huge sigh, Grant gazed gratefully at his parole officer, who did not seem to share his happiness and relief.
“But, Madsen, stay away from your family while you’re still on parole,” Jerry sternly advised. “Hell, stay away from them forever. They’re no good for you.”
“Yes, sir, I can see that.”
Swallowing hard, Jerry commanded, “And you should tell Sophie who you really are.”
Grant absorbed his words. Testily he inquired, “Is that an order, sir? Is that a condition of my parole?”
How was Jerry supposed to answer that? He felt bound to protect Sophie, but he found himself wanting to protect the young man standing next to him as well. Once they learned of their connection, their fledgling love affair would be demolished.
Jerry stared into Grant’s troubled eyes. “No, it’s not an order. But it’s the right thing to do, Madsen.”
He took a deep breath and nodded.
“Now get the hell out of here. You’ve made me late for my next appointment.”
“Yes, sir.”
Grant left the office, his mind swirling. Despite his desperate attempts to escape his family’s influence, they kept infecting his every chance at happiness. But now he had Sophie, and he was determined not to let his family ruin that love too.
27. Imperfect CONnection
Sophie struggled as she tried to fit the key into Grant’s apartment door while juggling two sacks of groceries and a heavy bag of cooking supplies along with her large purse, which threatened to slide off her shoulder. Finally, she opened the door and made her way down the hallway into the kitchen, where she plopped down her purchases with relief.
A giddy excitement coursed through her as she glanced around the empty apartment. She’d just spent a wonderful morning with Anita preparing for the teaching assignment, and she was pleasantly surprised by the salary they offered. Anita’s research grant afforded Sophie better earnings than expected, and she’d now be able to make the monthly payment for her student loans without begging her father.