The Spitfire

"Patrick, I need a solid old friend."

"Roberto, is that you? How the hell are you, my friend? It's been ages. I hear you're having a little headache out your way. Is that what this is about? You need I should get some of my people on it?"

"Nah, paisan, I've got it covered. It's my baby girl; you remember Arianna, yes?"

"Little Arianna, is she still such a spitfire?"

"Mama Mia, if the enemy's bullet doesn't cut me down, that child will do it, I swear."

"A handful, huh."

"And then some, that's why I'm calling; I need to send her to you for safekeeping until I send my enemies to hell where they belong. This fucking gumbah Vasili is a pain in the ass. Now he's not only greedy but stupid. Word is him, and his brother has concocted some scheme to force my little angel into marriage with one of their sons."

"Unethical, who would do such a thing to a young girl? What is she seventeen, eighteen?"

"She just turned eighteen, but that's not the problem so much; the thing is, she somehow got wind of it and is out for blood."

"Come again."

"The girl fancies herself to be some sort of gangster. My fucking idiot brother is always filling her head with shit. Instead of baby dolls and tiaras, he had her playing with epees and shuriken. By the time I figured out what the fuck, it was too late. While I was busy building an empire, that fuck was turning my kid into his nephew.

"You know Alphonso was always set in his own ways. And since he never planned on marriage and kids, I guess he figured yours were gonna be his.

Patrick laughed at his old friend's plight. Though the two men hadn't seen each other in quite some time; years, in fact, he remembered well their younger days together. Days spent on the streets of Chicago as young toughs trying to make names for themselves.

The old regime had been on its way out then, and they were determined to make their mark. There'd been a war back then too. The old warhorses hadn't wanted to let go, but the young blood proved to be too much, and youth and brains prevailed. The mob took on new connotations then; yes, they still strong-armed those who would oppose them, but they were no longer in the market for unprecedented killings. Blood on your hands was seen as a last resort, whereas before, it had been par for the course. Back then, in the back alleys of a festering city, two young toughs had made a pledge in blood.

"Do you remember our oath?" Patrick now asked Roberto.

"I thought you'd forgotten; it's been so long."

"Nah. Circumstances call for a little change in plans, but it's still the same; besides, it works out better this way since my Paddy is more into the saving of lives. He has no stomach for the life; now his firstborn Shane, perfecto."

"Yeah? We'll have to sit down; I think that might be just what the doctor ordered."

"That much trouble is she?"

"If she weren't my kid I would've capped her a long time ago. Does that answer?"

"Send her to me; I'll straighten her out."

Little did he know while he made that pledge to his old friend that things would change almost overnight.