Bobby DeLuca of the Italian Mafia was sitting at his cluttered desk vigorously finishing up the final paperwork so his grumpy old man could see he was capable of becoming the Alpha of the Mafia. His job was a feisty one, but he made sure every ounce of evidence burned alongside the bodies. Bobby was a ruthless killer; he has no remorse for those that defied the Mafia.
“Bobby, your Father Vincent is looking for you.” Mico the right hand of Bobby said coming into his office. He knew Bobby was tired and didn’t want to be disturbed but when Vincent calls, you answer the call or be killed.
“Yeah, yeah,” Bobby growled; he wasn’t done, he wasn’t going to be rushed. “I’ll get up in a minute.” He said scribbling on the paper. “Finished.” He snapped getting up, pushing his oversized leather chair away from his legs. Bobby glanced at the Grandfather clock, as it hit noon, it chimed.
Mico waited at the door, he knew Bobby was pissed, and he didn’t want to step over anything. Bobby rushed past him, the sooner he gave the paperwork to his Father the better.
Walking into his Father’s office. “Here.” Bobby snapped. “You couldn’t wait could you old man?”
His father turned to face him, a look of disgust. “No. You know I can’t stand waiting.” He said snatching the papers out of Bobby’s hands. He looked down. “A little nicer next time.” He growled throwing them on his neat desk. “Now sit.” He growled.
“For what?” Bobby growled. “You got the paperwork; I need a shower.”
Vincent rushed around the desk, grabbing Bobby by the throat, lifting him in the air. “When I tell you to do something, I suggest you do it.” He growled throwing Bobby into the chair. “You need to show your respect, remember I choose who is Alpha, and your attitude is showing me otherwise.” He said walking back around his desk. He took a seat and stared at Bobby for a minute. He was pissed.
Bobby sat up in the chair, rubbing his neck. “Now what?” he growled.
Vincent looked away from him, fishing into his desk drawer. “I have information about a Daughter of yours.” He snapped throwing the folder at him. “Explain it!” he demanded.
Bobby opened the folder, looking at the pictures. He recognized the woman but didn’t remember her name. “I know her face, but don’t remember her name,” he said throwing the folder on the desk. “I have no Daughter.” He growled. He was growing tired of this already, his body was dirty, he wanted to sleep.
“Oh, you have a Daughter.” Vincent snapped at him. “Do I need to teach you a lesson?” he said getting up and walking to the other side of the desk, he leaned against it. “My information is correct.” He snapped at Bobby. “You were a careless son of a bitch in New York fourteen years prior. The whore you paid got pregnant. What the hell were you thinking!”
Bobby thought about New York and fourteen years prior. The boys and he went and paid some girls, he was careful. He used protection. “I used protection, why now?” Bobby said shaking his head.
“Not.” Vincent smacks him upside the head. “You do realize the DeMarco family resides in New York City. Where you bought your whore.” He said shaking his head. “You need to get this right, bring the girl here. Hopefully Brenda your whore isn’t with the DeMarco family, otherwise, a new war has started and you will have to finish this before it blows up in your face. DeMarco is a dirty son of a bitch.” He said walking to the window. “Get the girl here, and we’ll finish with DeMarco later.” He said without looking at him. “I give you a month to handle this or I’ll take you out.” He said turning to face Bobby. “Thirty days. Get out!” he growled.
Bobby walked out of the office, leaving the door open. He was pissed, he needed to find Mico and get this started. His father threatened his life. He knew this was serious business. Mico was waiting in Bobby’s office.
“So?” Mico asked.
“I’m pissed.” He said throwing his wine glass at the wall. “I have a daughter.” He said punching the wall. “How the fuck do I have a daughter?”
“Where is this daughter?” Mico question, he stayed in the corner. When Bobby got mad, he was crazy.
“New York City,” Bobby said pacing around the office. Boxes littered the floor, he needed to clean up. “The one whore I paid for, got pregnant!” Bobby looked down at his hand, it hurt and was bleeding but it was expected since he punched a brick wall hard enough to leave knuckle imprints. “My father says I have thirty days, or I am a dead man. Get out!” Bobby growled.
Mico did as he asked, Bobby rarely asked him to leave the room, so he knew this was serious.
Bobby sat down at his desk, pushing papers aside, he found his phone. Dialing a number of an informant he had in the city. “It’s Bobby.” He growled into the phone.
“Long time, how are you?” the man on the other side asked.
“Not good Geno.” He said gritting his teeth. “I need you to find Brenda, I don’t know her last name. But she hung around Little Italy, she has a Daughter, I want to know if this is true or not.” He spoke. “I’m coming to New York, once I have a plane ready, but I need answers yesterday.”
“I’ll be in touch,” Geno said before hanging up.
Bobby left his office, Mico was waiting for him by the stairs. “You need to get our plane ready, I need a shower, ten minutes.” Bobby snapped before walking down the hall to his bedroom.
Bobby was ready in five minutes. He grabbed his bag and headed to the plane. Mico was waiting at the door for him. “I called the boys in New York to let them know to expect us,” Mico said following Bobby up the stairs.
“I called Geno,” Bobby said sitting down. He pulled out his phone and dialed Geno again. “We’ll be there in eight hours, have a hotel ready when we arrive.” He said hanging up the phone before Geno could annoy him with any other questions.
Bobby closed his eyes, one of his migraines was creeping up. He didn’t need this, his blood boiled at the thought of having a Daughter, possibly by a DeMarco whore. He knew that a war with NYC would be disastrous. No turning back now.
“Here,” Mico said handing him some narcotics.
“Thanks.” Bobby snatched them from his hand. He tossed the pills into his throat and drank some water. Closing his eyes, he played this whole situation out. It was either going to be easy, or it’s going to be blood. Knowing Bobby’s luck, there would be plenty of bloodshed.
Mico tapped Bobby on the shoulder. Bobby shook his head; he opened his eyes. “What?” he growled with fire in his eyes.
“We’re in New York. You slept through the ride. Boys are waiting out.” He said walking to the door.
Bobby adjusted his shirt. He wasn’t dressed in a suit this time. He wore black jeans and a plain black top. He put his shades on, combing his black hair out of his face, he walked to the door. The plane was small, but he didn’t need anything bigger.
Walking down the three steps, Mico waited by a black escalade. Bobby looked at his team, they were perfect. He thought about running the mafia in the states but didn’t like the American culture too much. Mico slid in next to Bobby.
Bobby’s phone rang, it wasn’t a number he recognized. “Yeah?” he snapped in the phone.
“Bobby DeLuca, what gives me the pleasure of you in my country?” the man asked.
