Love in Thorns, Guns and Shackles

Leonardo Salvatore dropped some flowers and stood over the freshly covered grave of his father, with a face devoid of emotions. Not like you can tell if there was any, with those eyes hidden under his black sunglasses, a black hat on his bowed head and his hands tucked into his pant pockets.

He was dressed in a black shirt which anyone could tell was properly ironed and lined, black pants which were relatively big, like the tailor had intended to give him enough space literally. On top of all that was a very long gray coat that reached his ankles downwards, at least something that wasn’t black.

He had these black shiny shoes that had their heads looking up to the sky like they were seeing something fascinating up there, whatever polish he had made use of, it sure was of good quality.

Perhaps someone took a trip back to the 90s, or maybe not; I mean, this is Leonardo Salvatore, son of Anthony Salvatore; the dreaded and feared leader of the Major Sicilian Mafia- the Scorpione family.

You can add late to that title now, considering that he is lying six feet deep in the soil, just below his emotionless son. Anyone who knows Leo would know that this was how he dressed, and that he barely laughed, smiled or cried. It was like he had no heart, or conscience or emotions… no one got to really understand him, not even his own father.

His old man had sent him to England to study and after his higher education; he had come back as a stranger. With the death of his father, it was expected that he would take over the mantle and lead this powerful criminal organization to greater heights, but was he capable of the task? Or was he just a strange young man that no one could understand?

Leo froze as he heard soft rustles of leaves behind him, not like he was moving before now but he paid more attention to his environment at that moment, with his ears wide open for the slightest and faintest sound. He felt like someone was approaching him slowly and silently, like they didn’t want to be heard.

Smartly, he pulled a revolver from his pocket and turned around quickly, his finger on the trigger and his aim right on the forehead of another man dressed in black. The man stood silently staring at him and then he lowered his gun slowly.

He finally looked up and revealed the part of his face that had been hiding by the hat, a large scar was visible on his face, right beside his right eye and went down to his cheek. Of course, that was why he was popularly known as Scarface; that was his nickname. It would have been Deadshot if not for the scar, given that he never missed his shot.

He had gotten that scar from his father as a kid, they say wound heals but scars never go away. They become a part of you forever, a memory that would live with you for as long as you exist.

Leonardo sighed and turned back to the grave, he gently tucked his gun back into his pockets or wherever he had brought it out from, and then he bowed his face again, staring at the grave like he was expecting some miracle to happen.

“Goombah, you weren’t here for the funeral, the whole family was here but you.” the man behind him began in a husky voice, without taking a step to get any closer to him.

Leonardo sighed again and looked up. “I had issues to handle,” he muttered bluntly with his back still turned to the anonymous.

“Really Leo? Which issues were of more importance than the Boss’s burial?” the man queried.

Leonardo groaned and clenched his fist, his face reddened and then he turned around and faced the man. “He might have been just your boss, but he was also my father, the same blood runs through our veins… how could I stand and watch him get buried while that grafter who stabbed him in the back still walks the surface of the earth? Tell me Lorenzo!!” he flared with gritted teeth.

He was finally showing signs of anger, at least that was an emotion, even if it was just a flicker of it in his deep brown eyes. The head of a powerful organization that has been in existence for centuries was dead, and to think of it, he had been murdered by someone that used to be close to him.

“Scarface, I might not have shared any blood relations with Anthony, I might have been just his Capo, but I saw him as my own blood brother, I could die for him if I had the chance. I love him just as much as you do!!” Lorenzo retorted without moving from the spot he stood.

“Lorenzo, can you still die for him?” Leonardo put forth in a calm voice, mixed emotions flaring in his eyes.

“Tutto quello che ho in questo mondo è la mia parola e le mie palle, e non le rompo per nessuno, capisci?” (All I have in this world is my word and my balls, and I don’t break them for anyone, do you understand?)

Leo was silent for a while, and then he sighed. “I already know that, Lorenzo and I trust you… that is why I am making you the new underboss, my underboss.” He announced softly.

The look on the middle aged man’s face changed, first from surprise to confusion. It was like he didn’t know what to feel at the moment, or maybe he wasn’t expecting this promotion, at least not at this time.

“You are the boss now, Scarface. You make the final decision or believe me; I would have ended the traitor by now. I warned your father to eliminate the demon on that very day he chose to create his own Fratellanza (Brotherhood), but your father for the first time in his life showed weakness. If only he had hardened his heart and killed his own brother, then he would have still been alive today.”

“Lorenzo, my father has been put to big sleep, so let him rest in this Chicago overcoat. Instruct every capo to prepare their soldiers; I want all hands on the deck, bring the chopper squad, and let them all pack heat…

We are going to war tonight, we shall take our revenge on the Lupi family; we would show them what happens when you clip the Don of a Sicilian Mafia family, especially a Scorpione. Give instructions to clip everyone in sight, tonight marks the destruction of the Lupi family!!” He spat with gritted teeth.

“Your word is the law, Goombah,” Lorenzo replied with a slight bow. Leo adjusted his hat and then walked away.

Lorenzo stood there and watched him disappear into the woods. Everyone had their own way of dealing with grief, and he was curious to know how this young man dealt with his, because right now, it didn’t look like he was grieving, his primary concern was revenge.

To be continued!!

Elena walked sluggishly to the dining room, she hated having dinner with the whole family and her reasons for that were justified. No young lady would enjoy dinner with a half-drunk father speaking gibberish and a mother calling her irresponsible.

So what if she was twenty-two and she had no job? What if she had no boyfriend or fiancé, thanks to her crazy bitchy attitude? Who said you have to be independent by the age of twenty-two? Who said you are late if you aren’t married at that age? Who for God’s sake sets these standards of living? Since when does life have a manual?

She hates it when her drunken gambler of a father curses her and wishes he had a rich son instead of a daughter, she hates it when her mother compares her with other young ladies and tells her that she is cursed. It is even worse when her younger siblings no longer look up to her with respect? They just see her as another useless one in the family.

But what annoyed her most was her perverted mat