Total pages in book: 206
Estimated words: 192184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 961(@200wpm)___ 769(@250wpm)___ 641(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 192184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 961(@200wpm)___ 769(@250wpm)___ 641(@300wpm)
“Escort him out,” Tommy said.
Nino hauled my dad out of the room by the scruff while Tommy followed them out into the hall and shut the door.
I don’t think I was breathing.
Then Tommy was back. He shut the door and leaned against it and looked at me while I stared into space. Dad hadn’t even looked back at me on his way out the door. I looked up at Tommy finally, not sure what I’d see.
“Come here, baby,” Tommy said.
I stood slowly and fought the trembling that had started in my chin. No, no more tears. Not for my father. Tommy pulled me against him and kissed the top of my head and held me. The strength of his arms around me, the solidness of his chest, the smell of him, he smelled like home to me now.
He softly started to fill me in on the rest of the conversation he had with my father, and I kept dry eyes throughout the time he talked, my head just resting against his chest.
My father was a fuck up. My father was probably a rebound for my mother who was looking for a different life than what she’d grown up with, but my dad was the wrong choice. Tom Ferrano set out to ruin my dad, to show my mom what a loser he was so she’d come back to him. It didn’t work. It might’ve driven my mom to suicide. Tom Ferrano might have killed my uncle as he had been allegedly obsessed with my mother and the power my uncle wielded. Mom’s family were connected, even more than Tom Ferrano back in those days. I never knew. She told me nothing about her past.
Tommy didn’t have any proof that his father did anything to my mother directly, but Tommy had concerns that a lot of what my father had said was true because he said it fit his Pop’s MO. Tom Sr’s MO was get to someone anyway he could and often that was by hitting them where it hurt and making their life crumble around them.
With my Uncle Joe out of the way he had more power than ever. Tommy said he got off on the power, the control over peoples’ lives. Tommy said his pop loved being a puppet master and his eyes were filled with irony, apology, as he told me that.
“So, what now?” I asked, looking up at him and trying to ignore the way Tommy’s voice changed as he talked about his father’s love for control.
Tommy shook his head. “I’ll dig for more info. I have plans to talk to Bianca’s ma, she’s been an aunt to me. And to talk to Dario and the girls’ mother. Then I’ve got to decide what to do.”
“What do you mean what to do? What can you do?”
Tommy shrugged. “Let’s see where the truth takes us and then I’ll decide.”
I didn’t like the darkness in his eyes at that statement.
I heard a commotion outside the door. Tommy opened it. Nino and another guy I didn’t recognize were rushing toward the door.
Nino said, “T, I think you should come outside. Your father and Greg O’Connor are at it.”
Tommy booked it toward the door. I followed.
Outside, the front gate was open, and Tom Sr. was beating the snot out of my father out on the street. Tommy ran, passing James, and hauled his father off my father, whose face was gushing blood.
“Tia! Back in the fucking house!” Tommy yelled.
His father tried to pull free of Tommy’s grip and then the most awful thing happened. Tommy’s silver crucifix necklace flew airborne during the scuffle and it fell. I ran for it, but it fell down and when my eyes landed on the ground, they didn’t land on concrete or on grass. It was a sewer grate. I landed on my knees and cried out. Tommy let go of his father and reached for me.
Tom grabbed my dad again and cold-clocked him. Dad was knocked out, lying on the ground bleeding right beside the sewer that had swallowed up Tommy’s necklace, Tommy’s anchor to goodness.
I was inconsolable. I was on my now bloodied knees bawling, staring at the sewer. Anyone watching might’ve thought that I was crying for my passed-out bleeding father, but my eyes met Tommy’s and I knew he saw precisely what I was weeping about.
He hollered out, “Jimmy!” and then Nino and James got my father up off the ground carried him, barely conscious, back toward the house.
Tommy yelled at his father. “Pop, inside!” And then he lifted me off the ground and cradled me to his chest, carrying me tight against himself, back to the house while I cried inconsolably into his chest, clutching his shirt.
The guys put O’Connor into a car and had someone drive him. I knew they’d either get him looked at by a doctor or they’d bring him back to his house if he was all right. I got Tia into the family room, set her on the couch, and covered her shoulders with a blanket. I dabbed at her bleeding knees with tissue.