The man at my feet gets on his knees, turns, and I see he is not surrendering. He has my knee in his face before his hand touches me. As he bends down from the pain, I slap his neck with my flat, full force, and he sinks to the ground, unconscious.
The other men laugh, not at me, but at him; one of them nods in appreciation. It’s the one who convinced the others to leave earlier. I walk up to him.
“Sugnu Antonella,” I say to him. “Comu ti chiami?”
“Rosario,” he says. He had my back before, and I’m building a relationship. It’s a strategy. The more of a person I am to them, the less likely they are to turn on me.
“Me and Totò over there—“ he points at the silent man in the back, “Are the capo mandamento he informed, and we were told that you are the most important, to always honour famiglia.”
I squint my eyes slightly. It feels hard to trust right now, because I don’t know any of them.
“And why did he tell you that is?” I ask.
“A word,” he says. “A word given is the law.”
“It is,” I say, nod, and walk over to the silent man called Totò.
“You disapprove,” I say. “Why?”
He considers me for a moment.
“Not necessarily. There are many powerful men waiting to be next in line,” he says in a rather sophisticated English. “I believe the odds are against you.”
“I understand,” I say. “What were the odds of me knocking him out?” I ask and tilt my head to the muscle guy on the floor.
Totò smirks.
I take him in. He is different from the others. He wears a casual suit combined with jeans. Overall, the impression is quite colourful compared to all the others, which are dressed in black or grey.
“What did he mean to you, Giuseppe?” I ask.
“He raised me like a son,” he says. “I have to say, I was astonished he did not consider me. But one day he came to me and said, “Salvatore?—“
“Wait, you’re Salvatore?” I ask.
“I am, Totò is merely a nickname.”
My body relaxes slightly because the last entry in my father’s journal has been a name, along with a scribbled note: Salvatore. The only one to be trusted. I don’t know why I trust my father’s words, but it feels right—although I will not lower my guard.
“He did consider you,” I say, and Salvatore raises his eyebrows.
I mouth the word ‘later’.
“Anyone else who questions my authority?” I ask.
No one reacts.
“Good,” I say. “We will clean up this mess here. I’m leaving you in charge, Rosario. I don’t want to see one drop of blood when I come back. I trust you to take care of it,” I say, and Rosario nods at me.
“Salvatore, you are coming with me; we have a meeting to prepare. If anyone has an issue with anything, you come to me directly. I might be young, you might not know me, but I grew up here, and I know and hear many things,” I say as I walk out the door.
One day, this will all come down on me. Lies like this can’t be upheld.
“And tell him to decide whether his loyalties lie with me now or if he needs further convincing when he wakes up,” I add without looking as I step over the man on the floor.
Salvatore follows me.
We walk. I take him to the room I was in before, the one plastered with pictures of me.