Chapter 4 - THE PLAYGROUND PIRATES
The school auditorium smelled of floor wax and nervous children,
a scent that Damiano hadn't encountered in decades.
He sat in the front row,
his large frame making the small plastic chair look like a toy,
with Rafael standing like a sentinel behind him.
The other parents kept their distance,
creating a ten-foot buffer zone around the mafia boss,
their whispers buzzing like angry bees.
Damiano didn't care about the gossip,
his eyes were fixed on the stage,
waiting for the blue cotton dress to appear.
The play was something about a forest,
with children dressed as trees and squirrels,
a spectacle that would usually bore a man like Damiano to tears.
But when Mia walked onto the stage,
carrying a cardboard wand and wearing tinsel in her hair,
he felt a surge of pride that was entirely irrational.
She looked for him in the crowd,
her eyes searching the rows of faces,
and when she saw him,
her smile was so bright it could have lit up the room.
She performed her lines with a confidence that she hadn't possessed the day before,
her voice ringing out through the auditorium.
"And the princess lived happily ever after,"
she announced,
curtseying to the audience.
Damiano was the first to clap,
his large hands making a thunderous sound that echoed off the walls.
The other parents followed suit,
clapping with a fervor that was born of fear,
but the effect was a standing ovation for the housekeeper’s daughter.
After the play,
the parents were invited to a reception in the playground,
a social minefield of juice boxes and polite conversation.
Mia ran up to Damiano,
her face flushed with success,
and she hugged his legs.
"Did you see me,
Daddy?"
she asked,
her eyes shining.
"I saw you,"
Damiano said,
his voice softening,
"you were the best one up there."
A young boy with a bowl cut and an expensive sweater walked up,
looking at Damiano with a mixture of curiosity and arrogance.
"Is he really your dad?"
the boy asked,
crossing his arms.
"He looks like the guy on the news who's a bad man."
Damiano looked down at the boy,
Toby,
and the air around them seemed to drop ten degrees.
"I am her father today,"
Damiano said,
his voice a low,
dangerous rumble that made the boy flinch.
"And as for being a bad man,"
"it depends on who you ask."
"Do you want to know what happens to boys who ask too many questions?"
Toby’s eyes went wide,
and he took a step back,
his lip beginning to tremble.
"Damiano,"
Elena whispered from behind him,
her voice a plea for mercy.
Damiano sighed,
the tension leaving his shoulders as he looked at Mia’s worried face.
"I'm joking,
Toby,"
Damiano lied,
though the lie felt like sand in his mouth.
"Go play with your friends."
The boy ran off,
his expensive shoes kicking up dust,
and Damiano turned back to Mia.
"Let's go,"
he said,
"I think we've had enough of this playground."
As they walked to the car,
Silvio Marchetti’s black sedan pulled up to the curb,
the window rolling down to reveal the old man’s face.
"Playing house,
Damiano?"
Silvio mocked,
his eyes full of malice.
"The streets are talking."
"They say the king has lost his crown and found a doll."
Damiano stopped,
his hand tightening on Mia’s,
as he looked at the rival don.
"The king is still here,
Silvio,"
Damiano said,
his voice as cold as a grave.
"And if you ever come near this school again,"
"I will make sure you never see another sunrise."
The window rolled up,
the car speeding away,
and Damiano felt the weight of his world pressing back in.
He had borrowed a daughter,
but in doing so,
he had shown the world a weakness.
May you like
And in his world,
weakness was a death sentence.
