6 Overprotective Italian Mafia Brothers

|𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗢𝗡𝗘: |𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗔 𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗢.|

     

~𝙖𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙪𝙣𝙙~

       ᵃˡˡᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ᵉᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ˢʰᵒʷ ᵉᵃˢⁱˡʸ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵒⁿᵉ'ˢ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ.

May 3rd. The day I graduate from this hell hole of a high school. Fucking finally. I already had my suit picked out. I wasn't the dress kinda girl. My mother, upon finding out her only daughter was wearing a suit to her graduation, freaked out. She told me, "suits are for men! You are a woman! Just wear a dress for your mommy?" As if her statement made me any less succumbed to wearing my tuxedo.

     It was a nice one, really. All black and fitted for my tall ass self. It had an undervest with a chain attached. There were subtle red stripes, as thin as a single hair follicle. My shoes consisted of red heels with dainty gold straps that were practically chains. I had flat ironed and curled my naturally curly hair, and applied winged eyeliner with a red lip.

     For the past two weeks, my school administration had made all seniors practice their ceremony setup and walk. The principal, however, didn't fucking forget to be his misogynistic self. "Men, wear your best suits, girls, wear your best dresses and nothing too revealing. It's graduation for Christ's sake," he had looked at me, making brief eye contact, "and Beatrice, please, for the love of God, don't wear your baggy boy clothes with chains!" "What about if I wear a suit?" "Like a man? No," "well, I'm not a man but, my balls have dropped farther than yours ever have." I had murmured it under my breath in hopes he wouldn't hear. He did. He didn't like that and I didn't care.

     In spite of my dick face principal, I purchased a suit. Now, it was time to graduate. I'm graduating at 16 because of the stupid college course my mom signed me up for. What a high school experience I got to enjoy, mother dearest. I had been accepted into NYU, majoring in photography. My mother, of course, was sad. We now lived in New Orleans and it wasn't the closest pitstop to New York City.

     "B! C'mon! We're going to be late!" I looked around my now empty room one last time and grabbed my keys. Let's get this show on the road.

..............

....

      "Lydia sanders," a round of cheers and applause sounded. And a bit of my screaming. Just a bit. My name was getting called in a few minutes so I was drifting off. I looked toward the audience to see my mother conversing with a man I had never seen before. He looked to be in his early four ties in the late thirties. He looked up at me, briefly, a look crossing over his features. Not like I could read fucking emotions like a book character. 

          He went back to conversing with my mother. They looked more like they were arguing. If I had to beat this bitches ass- "Beatrice-Valentina Reg- eh Romano?" What? My last name isn't Romano. What the fuck? Even the vice-principal looked conflicted.

     I stayed rooted to my spot. Maybe there was another Beatrice-Valentina? Jadon, one of the few humane guys on the football team, gave me a slight shove and I moved up a step. Well then. I walked on the stage and received my diploma and awards. When I got off stage, instead of placing my ass back in its seat, I walked off to the last row in which my mother was in. The teachers and parents looked at me like I was some Marxian from outer space. "Uh, miss Reg-Romano?" I flipped off my principal and kept walking to my mom.

     "Who's this?" I nodded my head toward the man. He looked at me and smiled awkwardly. "Hi, I'm Davyn Romano. I'm your-" "he's just a friend!" My mother quickly cut him off. He glared at her and then proceeded to speak. "I'm your father."

......

A/N: The chapter has been updated last on January 17, 2021.