You see, there are these apps where anybody can write books, stories and the sort and one day, scrolling the FB (which I don't usually do but I kill time with it on occasions) my eyes fell on a title that made me scoff.
The title, 'Mafia in Love'...
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"Cos'è successo, Raffa?" Grandma is asking while I'm still lost in the message I've just read. (What happened, Raffa?).
I've heard her asking something but I just can't focus well enough to form an answer.
What could I say? You know, Nonna, lately I've become a pussy and I like to read books? And not just any books! Fucking love stories books!
How that sounds coming from a motherfucker like me who has never shown feelings of any kind in his life and done nothing but shady businesses, fucked whores in clubs, and killed with no remorse.
"Niente, Nonna. Mi scusi, ma devo andare. L'autista fuori vi accompagnerà a casa, ok?" I tell her in a rush and after giving her a short hug I put the phone back in my pocket and rush out of the house grabbing the car keys on the way out. (Nothing, Grandma. Excuse me, but I have to go. The car outside will take you two home, okay?).
What the fuck is wrong with this writer, this piece of shit writer?! I don't give a flying fuck about her exams or finals or whatever the fuck she has!
The thoughts are rushing through my mind like thunders while I get in the car and turn on the engine and the news seems to have been the last drop needed to take me back to the usual me, bitter, cruel, and in a mood of choosing to hurt people.
This was supposed to be a fun, fucking easy night but instead, I've had some of the worse news I could get.
And then again, whenever had I ever had easy days since Grandpapa Capozzi passed away and left me an imperium hanging on my neck, throwing me into a vortex of rivalry, danger and always living on the edge?
I fish the phone from my pocket and open the app sending the bitch writer my very clear answer, an angry emoticon. Then I turn off the screen and throw the phone in the passenger seat, myself surprised by the very stupid thing I've done.
I push the speed pedal to the floor and exit my mansion premises with a very loud screech of the wheels, heading toward my club where surely Fabio is waiting together with me disgustingly expensive whiskey and hopeful a whore to fuck and unload my anger.
Deciding I haven't been stupid enough, I grab the phone again and send a new message, a cursing emoticon this time, just like a dump teenager going through the pimple drama of his life, and throw the phone back on the seat next to mine.
Clearly, I've lost my mind, or else I can't explain even to myself how in the fuck's name of fuckery can I act so childish about something so little.
But I just can't stop it. Those chapters I'm waiting for every Friday are the few moments I can afford to be vulnerable, be a human and I can forget that my life is a long queue of loneliness being the head of everybody and having actually nobody close enough to share with, a life I didn't want.
I check the time and realize my club should open any moment now.
Perfect! I have all the girls ready and I can take a pick of whoever I find fit. I'm thinking about Gloria. She's feisty and she'll wear me out quickly, sucking the life out of me, hopefully, this rage will go with it as well.
