2|A Family Man

~Klaus~

There comes a time in a man’s life when he realizes he’s not as young as he once was. That he cannot drink like there was no tomorrow, party like his reputation precedes, fuck every woman without a care in the world. For me, that moment came when I woke up in an unfamiliar room, tangled in the sheets with two naked women. One had her legs draped over my middle, while the other had her boobs pressed in my face.

“Cazzo,” I groaned, tossing away the leg keeping me down. She fell back into her slumber, snuggling with the busty boobed chick. I sat on the edge of the bed, getting my bearings.

Everything was blurry and disorienting. Clothes, alcohol bottles, cups, and condom wrappers – more than my fingers could count – were scattered on the floor. My world spun as I scoured for my phone.

The closed balcony doors muffled the traffic from the street. The curtains were open, permitting a sliver of morning light inside.

I found my phone on the bedside table, and a thong dangled from the lampshade. ‘Did we fucking play slingshot last night?’ I thought, seeing another thong stuck on the chandelier together with a bra.

The screen of my device lit up, revealing ten calls I missed from Ghost.

“Fuck!” I raked my fingers through my hair, pinching my eyes close.

My head felt like someone stabbed me with an icepick, but that feeling would become a reality if I didn’t make it to the warehouse in twenty minutes.

Fuck this. I don’t even know where the fuck I am.

I debated on taking a shower before leaving. I reek of alcohol, sex, and bad decisions. In the end, I put on last night’s clothes and dashed out of the apartment as if it was on fire. Thank the fuck I was still in New York City, and my car was safe in the visitor’s spot.

Last night started out fine. I met up with my best buds, Devin and Evan, and had a few drinks in my newly purchased club in downtown Manhattan.

We met in college, and we’ve been friends since. Those two were my siblings from different mothers. We were thick as thieves, did many shitty things together, and got into trouble, but none I would regret.

Ever since they fell madly in love and settled down, guy’s night outs became scarce. I can’t even detest their wives since Ren and Cali are family. I missed the days when the three of us would get drunk together and get wasted together, though.

When they went home to their wives, things started to get hazy. Ghost’s voice reminding me of the scheduled inspection of the warehouse was the last coherent thought I recall. Bits and pieces of the night before made my head spin as my car wheeled through New York’s congested road. It was a mess of beer bongs, flirting and making out with socialites, and a lot of booze.

This is a new low for someone who thrives on control in everything, an addition to the list of things I’d rather forget. And trust me, it’s a damn long list.

I speed through the highway, breaking a handful of traffic rules. Still, I wasn’t fast enough.

Upon seeing my father’s Dodge in front of the warehouse, clustered with three FBI Sedans, Ghost’s motorcycle, and Kino’s Maserati, I knew I was in for a hell of a day. The slow parking of my Porsche opposed how my mind calculated all the outcomes of this situation.

Dad warned me about Agent Domínguez, who issued a closure order in our factory in Las Vegas. He made it his life’s mission to put us down.

The Las Vegas closure order came out as a surprise since it was one of our legal businesses. He found some molds, which was shitty, but he cost us millions, either way. He turned the place upside down and found nothing. We still have yet to discover why he whisked an interest in making us his enemy.

If it was up to me, I’d rather put a bullet between his eyes and feed his remains to the pigs, but dad was against it. He was a man of patience. He’d wait for the enemy to give an opening before he struck, a perspective I didn’t possess.

~~

“Gas leak?” I read the closure order, chuckling as I set the paper down on my father’s desk.

I was too late to see how things went down in the warehouse. One thing I am intensely nervous about since dad didn’t even comment on my tardiness and the state I arrived in.

“Creative, isn’t he?” Dad had his back on me, one hand tucked in his trouser, the other holding a glass of pinot noir from Amara’s wine collection, a company he named after my late mother.

At the age of sixty-one, Markus Martinelli is still at the peak of his career. Respected and highly praised by the people around him.

The shower and fresh clothes from my office aren’t doing much to what I felt inside. It’s a bad omen when dad drinks his favorite wine from Amara. It calms his weary mind, he once told me. And I have a good feeling he is troubled because of me.

Resting an ankle over my knee, I scoffed. “He’s on a fishing expedition.”

The warehouse Agent Dominguez targeted housed collateral we collected from businesses who had taken loans from us. Nothing illegal, just a bunch of expensive artworks, jewelry, and artifacts that we usually put up for auction at the end of each year.

“He will keep nosing until he finds something to put us down,” dad said, taking back his seat.

“He won’t find anything,” I snarled. “Although if he isn’t careful, he will find himself at the other end of my Glock.”

“Easy, Klaus,” he dismissed. “What did I tell you about taking another human’s life? Let’s just wait it out. This agent seemed too desperate, and soon he’d start making mistakes in his ‘fishing expedition.’ That’s when we’ll handle him.”

I hated waiting. Dad perfected this hands-off approach. It was damn easy for him while I, on the other hand, eliminate threats before they even became a problem. And Agent Dominguez is close to becoming one. “And until then?”

“Until then, let Kino handle Martinelli Holdings.” My mind was already running a hundred miles per hour, planning on tightening the security of tonight’s gun shipment. It took me ten seconds to digest what he said.

“What?” my head reeled. Even my blood was unsure whether to boil or drain south.

Dad sighed, sipping his wine calmly. “You heard me.”

“I… I did,” I stuttered. I fucking stuttered, which never happens. Being speechless is nonnative to me. I had a say in everything. My mind was designed to win every conversation, even if it was not an argument. Does that make sense? No. Nothing makes fucking sense. “Kino?” I nervously chuckled.

“Kino,” Dad nodded. “Your cousin. Is there another Kino in the family?”

I knew his silence wasn’t for nothing, and like a fucking masochist, I asked. “Why him?”

Dad tilted his head to the side. It was like looking at an older version of myself in the mirror, only he was much wiser and calmer. His salt and pepper brows tilted up, astounded by my resolve to hear his reason for choosing Kino to handle the most profitable business we owned rather than me, his son.

“Kino had proven himself to be a family man, figlio. And until I see you are worthy of taking care of this family, Kino will handle your work at Martinelli Holdings.”