“Here comes Francesco down the left wing, he crosses over, switches it out in front, Paolo runs in, out jumps number 12, and scores the game-winning header goal!”
Well, that’s my Ma for you, always celebrating my achievements. She’s a 45 years old single mother caring for 3 teenage Italian sons, Me, Paolo, my younger twin brother Rosario, and my older brother Angelo. I never met my Papa, Ma says that he left one day and never came back, I don’t believe her though.
“Oh please Ma! The goal wasn’t that spectacular, the pass came right to his head, and he probably just jumped, closed his eyes, and got lucky.”
That’s Angelo for you, my older, discouraging brother. He is a High School dropout, who is heavily into drugs and alcohol. Though he denies it, we all know it's true. Not to brag, but the truth is that I’m actually a very talented soccer player with excellent potential, or at least that’s what people say. I love soccer and it would be surreal to play for
“Ah Stai Zitto Angelo, you’re jealous that Paolo has some talent,” stated Ross.
“He’s seems to be awfully good at insulting,” agreed Ma.
Lucky for me, I have Ross and Ma to overpower Angelo’s dejecting comments with compliments and positive mindsets.
The rest of the ride home was silent.
Let me fill you in on some important details, I’m Paolo Bonfanti, 15 years old and my brothers Ross and Angelo are 15 (twin) and 17 years, respectively. We live in a beautiful Sicilian villa in Palermo called Le Pervenue, which I never understood because Ma can only afford to keep us alive, clean, fed, and looking respectable, but no extras. Whenever I ask her about it she says that she used to be able to afford it. My dad’s old – time friend, Joe Pagniolli, lives with us and pays the taxes for our house, God Bless him. Joe always told me that my Dad was a great man and was like me in many ways, he would not tell me where he is or why he left, though. I play soccer on a
“Paolo, take out the garbage and cut the grass before you go out.”
“OK Ma, I’ll be right out.”
After I finished my chores, it was time for soccer practice.
“Ciao, Paolo, how are you? Are you getting excited for championships?”
“You bet Coach, I think we can win it for sure.”
“I agree, especially if we get those new plays down to perfection.”
My Coach, Tony, had two sides to him, when he was in a game he was stiff as wood, doing anything he could to win, even if it came to diving, faking injuries, or injuring their best player. When in “non-soccer mode” he loved to party with us, acted as a mentor to many players (including me), and gave us advice on our teenage years. After all he was only 21, 6 years apart from us.
“Hit the field boys, we’re having a conditioning practice,” ordered Coach Tony.
“Oh boy,” I whispered to myself under my heavy panting.
*** *** ***
“Maria, I think the time has come to tell Paolo what happened to his Papa,” declared Joe.
“We can’t Joe, think of what he will feel like, heartbroken, sorrowful, and he will be in no mood to play in the Sicilian Soccer Championships,” argued Ma.
“Well if you won’t tell him, I will,” Joe exclaimed.
“Ok, fine, but choose the right time, this is going to be life-changing to him,” stated Ma.
“Yes, I know, we will tell him the good news first, and finish with the spear to the heart.”
“I agree, he ought to know the good news, it could encourage him, but off this topic, Paolo is probably waiting for me to pick him up at practice.”
*** *** ***
“Whew, that was a tough practice,” my teammate Francesco declared.
“Tony is really getting worked up and intense about these championships, we better not disappoint him,” I established.
Francesco was my best-friend and teammate, but I could never seem to trust him. At parties, it was a rare occurrence to find him sober, and without drugs. He never pressured me which was I respected, but I often felt left out. Sometimes I would have a beer or two, never more, and I’ve never tried any drugs before.
“I gotta catch the bus home minutes, Ciao Paolo.”
“Ciao Francesco,” I responded.
Just as Francesco was out of sight, and I was the last one left on the field, Ma pulled up in her green Toyota Sienna, with a neutral, emotionless, look on her face.
“Hey Ma,” I said as I climbed into the van.
“Hey Paolo, how was soccer practice?” Ma asked.
“It was a tough one, Tony’s really working us nowadays,” I replied.
"Your Dad used to try his hardest all the time..." Ma said sorrowfully.
"Enough about Pa, Ma. Let's get back to Tony, and his working our asses off," I said.
“He just wants to get you guys ready for Championships, I’ve heard that he’s expecting a podium finish from you guys,” Ma stated.
I spent the rest of the car ride thinking of all the things I’d heard about my Dad...You get your looks from him, your talents, your smarts, everything! Everyone says he is a great guy; I really want to meet him. Just as we were pulling into the driveway, Ma told me that Joe wanted to tell me something alone after I went to the Mart and picked up a few things for tonight's dinner. Angelo came with me as a driver, and so I could load all of the groceries into the car. So, as planned, I arrived home, showered, changed into Diesel jeans and my favourite blue Adidas soccer shirt and Angelo drove me to the local Mart.
While I was there, I saw my friends from my school, Scuola Privata Istituto Maria Ss. Del Rosario
“Ciao Enzo, Ciao Josie, what are you guys doing here?” I questioned.
“Just picking up some dinner for tonight,” Josie responded.
“Cool, how’s your summer been?” I asked.
“It’s been…fun,” Enzo replied with a smile.
Enzo and Josie are two teenage lovebirds, always found together either with their lips locked, embracing, holding hands, or socializing. I bought the rest of my groceries, which totaled $83.56, I paid and went outside. Angelo was nowhere to be seen, figures he was late. I waited 15 more minutes and decided that he wasn’t coming. I cursed at him in my head and started trucking the 5 KM uphill walk back home. During the walk, I started to ponder about what Joe was going to tell me. Maybe something had happened and he had to leave? That would be a bummer, Joe was like a second father to me, but maybe it was something about soccer, or one of my brothers, I really had no idea. It took me an hour to get home, to find Angelo watching TV.
“Did you just FORGET to pick me up?” I snapped.
“I had to finish up a project, the exercise is good for you anyways Paolo,” he deviously replied.
“I just finished up a soccer practice!” I retorted.
“Awh, sorry Paolo, next time I’ll know better,” he said sarcastically.
I went to the kitchen and gave the groceries to Ma, she then told me to go to my room because Joe was waiting for me there. I walked into my room to find Joe flipping through what looked to be an old scrapbook on my bed. I sat down beside him and asked what he was doing.
“This is a scrapbook that me and your Pa put together of our High School and College years,” Joe said. I saw pictures of them on top of
“Joe, are you telling me that my Dad and you were on team
“Yes Paolo, what you said is all true, but there is much, much more I have to tell you.”
“Go on...”
“I’ll start from High School, where I met your Dad,” he started.
“Right from the beginning, your Dad and I, Sal, became best friends. We did everything together, soccer, party, homework, movies, girls, you name it. We went to the same college and were both recruited to
I was boiling with anger, bubbling with hate, I felt an urge for revenge, to make that douchebag pay for what he did to my family, how dare they say I was like him, in no way was a similar to Sal Bonfanti but I held back, restrained myself and answered Joe calmly, “Oh, I guess that’s disappointing, I’m glad he’s gone though, he’s not one of us.”
“I have to leave Paolo, now that I have betrayed your Dad to you; he has probably already ordered a hit on me.”
“How would he know if you told me or not Joe?”
“Your Pa is a very powerful man Paolo, has cameras, spies, inside men. I’m positive he knows, and yes he would go to that degree to kill his best lifetime friend, to keep himself out of the can.
“If you must Joe, but I hope we meet again, you’ve always been there for me and my family, and we are forever in debt for that.”
“Don’t worry, I will still be able to pay the taxes, and if I die my money goes to your Ma.”
Joe packed up his bags right after our talk. His departure reminded me of water being drained out of a bathtub, slipping away slowly like it’s never going to finish, then suddenly you surprisingly find the tub empty. That’s exactly how I felt, empty. I went to go to talk to Ma.
“Ciao Paolo, how are you feeling,” she asked.
“I’m a little shaken up, but I’ll be fine,” I lied. “How have you been able to cope with all of this for so long?” I questioned.
“For a while, it was excruciatingly tough, he didn’t even say goodbye and it broke my heart. I loved him so much, but now I figure that if that’s what he’s like I should just forget about him and let it go. Since I did that my life got a lot better. Sure we still struggle to keep afloat, but I’m still happy.”
I had a soccer game that night and decided it would take my mind off Pa, so I went. I arrived at the pitch an hour before the game to do my stretches, warm-up, and talk to Tony and Francesco. I saw Tony first so I jogged over to talk to him.
“Hey Paolo, how are you feeling? You ready for tonight’s game?”
“Si Coach I’m ready, but feeling a little shaken up, I just learned about my father.”
“Don’t worry about him Paolo; he stabbed us all in the back.”
Apparently everyone in
“Thanks for the help,” I said half-meaning it, half not.
Next, I saw Francesco, hoping he would be a little more help.
“Ciao Francesco, I need to talk to you about something,” I started, “I learned today that my Dad was captain of team Italy and MVP when they won the FIFA Championship in 82, and ditched all his family and glory and fame to go to the Sicilian Mob, for the money,” I finished.
“Well after the game my buddy’s having a party, how about we hit it up, get your mind off of it, I think that’s the best thing you can do right now,” Francesco declared.
Figures. Francesco’s way of helping me is to go to a party, but maybe he’s right, I’m gonna have some fun tonight. We won the game handily; they were a cellar dweller in our division. I scored 2 goals and set-up another pair in our 7-2 romp of the Siracusa Storm. As planned, Francesco and I went to the party. About 10 minutes in, I had already lost Francesco, he knew everybody, and I knew nobody. Oh Boy, not a good start, I thought to myself. A couple minutes later, Francesco came up to me.
“Hey, Paolo, have some pot, compliments of me,” he said hazily. I was about to reject his offer, when I reminded myself that tonight was about having a good time, and letting loose.
“Pass it over Francesco,” I replied.
“I even rolled it for you because you’re such a great friend.”
“Oh, um, thanks man.”
From then on my night was amazing, with dancing, drinking, girls, all out partying. This was a world I was unknown to, but man, I loved it. Later that night, I met a guy named Luigi Abate. I don’t really remember much of our conversation but he said that he had an offer for me, an irresistible offer. He worked for an agency called Il Sogno, or “The dream”. Luigi explained to me that Il Sogno was an agency against all Italian mobs, focusing currently on the Sicilian Mafia. He also told me that they were not the police, just a business doing their part in secret. The pay was 65,000 Euros per year, equaling $50,000 Canadian dollars, a mighty fine pay for a 16 year old (my birthday passed about a week ago) which could easily increase. It also meant taking down my Dad’s business, which I was more than happy to agree. This would mean quitting my job at Spinnato and he assured me that soccer would come first and that it would still easily work out. I graciously accepted and looked forward to starting soon. We exchanged cell phone numbers and I then left the party with Francesco feeling like a god. I decided that I would tell Francesco, Ross, and Tony of my new job. I then looked down at my watch it was glowing 3:11.
“Holy crap Francesco it’s 3:11!” I exclaimed.
“Well you were having so much fun; I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
“Well I haven’t done this since...forever so I guess it’ll be fine. “
I got home, slipped into my bed and Ma didn’t ever bring it up. The next day I told Ross about my acceptance of Luigi’s offer, this “let” me tell him what happened to Dad; I figured he should know. Ross had been away on an exchange trip to the
Today, I was planning to tell Angelo about me quitting my job as a waiter at Spinnato, but I never got to it. I woke up two days after the party, and found Ma and Ross moping together in the kitchen.
“What’s wrong?” I inquired.
“Oh, Paolo, look at today’s newspaper, skip to the last page” Ma said solemnly.
I picked up La Repubblica; the last page was deaths and births. I skipped through the pages petrified of what awaited me. Murphy’s Law started repeating itself in my head “if anything can go wrong it will”, I skipped through and saw the one face I wished was not there. Joe was dead. My Dad had killed him. I made up my mind there and then; this son of a bitch was going down.
I received my first phone call from Luigi that day. He was ready for me. I was ready for him. Luigi wanted just one man dead, but a fairly difficult first task, he wanted the hitman who was hired to kill Joe dead. Nico Farfetti was his name, around 6 feet tall, army haircut, 185 pounds. I had to kill him without me noticing, or I was dead. Everyday, Nico walked to The Palermo Church of God, between the hours of 10:00 AM and 12:00 PM to pray. This church was just down the road from Le Pervenue, on Nico’s way down I would hide in my window, while my family was still sleeping, and assassinate Nico with a silenced desert eagle.
I have to admit, I was scared. First of all, if this went wrong (I missed the shot, he saw me first, etc.), then I could very easily be put in jail, or worse, die. Also, I was killing someone, yes, that is a crime, but that’s not what I’m worried about. Killing someone is a heavy thing to carry. It’s taking someone’s life from them. At least in my situation, I was killing killers, murderers, dealers, and more.
I awoke the next morning at 8:45 AM to get ready for my job. The night before Luigi had gave me Nico’s murdering tool equipped with red dot sight. I couldn’t miss. Next, I showered, ate breakfast, and checked to make sure everyone was asleep. The night before I turned off Ma’s alarm clock, she always woke up at 7:30, even in the summer. I felt that today she could use a sleep-in. Ross and Angelo were a given to sleep in. I looked at the clock, its hands showed 9:36, I set-up my killing spot at a window looking out to the street Nico would walk to on his way to Church. It was a strategically chosen position because I could duck under the window or hide behind the curtain. I opened up the window and saw Farfetti about 300 metres away. I placed my gun in the slim window opening, just tall enough to fit the Deagle. I was ready to slightly apply pressure to the trigger, to activate the laser scope. 50 metres away, 30, 10…I put the laser out, and just as I was about to kill Nico, I heard a door open; I panicked, pulled the trigger, and saw Nico Farfetti fall to his death. I put the pistol in my pants and jumped onto the couch just as Angelo walked in.
“What are you doing up Paolo?” he questioned suspiciously.
“I just got up, I was about to watch some TV,” I responded calmly.
“Oh, ok,” he said, still seeming unsure.
Whoa, talk about adrenaline. Killing someone sure gives you a rush, but the aftershock is a pain. I went to soccer practice that afternoon feeling totally out of it and the championships were now in 2 weeks. Tony had a little talk to me after practice, “I heard from Francesco you had your first job last night, how did you find it?”
I replied, “How can you really explain a feeling after killing someone, I don’t even know if he was innocent or not, but he was part of the Sicilian Mafia, so that makes me feel better. All these years I’ve been looking for a role-model, and my Dad could’ve been that, Ma has had to work double shifts and Angelo and I as a waiter since we were 15. Pa could’ve fixed that. He just could’ve made my life less miserable, in so many ways by just staying. Now he kills innocent people for no reason, or at least he gets people to kill them. My dad is the mob boss of the world’s second largest crime group organization!”
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
After many more jobs well done by yours truly, Luigi gave me the ultimate job; he wanted me to kill none other than Salvatore Bonfanti. I hated my Dad, but I don’t know if I had the guts to kill him, but I would have to do it.
I went home one night and found Ross balling his eyes out, “what’s wrong?” I asked. “It’s Ma, he said, she’s dead, I came home and found her in the kitchen with bullet holes everywhere, they must have tortured her.” He said in a whisper.
I knew what had happened, my father had now killed the closest people he had in life, his wife and best-friend. To get to me. I’m going to F*cking kill him, what left does he have to live for.
I didn’t care anymore; I signalled down a cab, he drove me downtown to Sal’s office. Right before I got out I shot the driver in the head. I bolted into the 30 foot glass building; it looked like an enlarged sculpture. I pierced a bullet through the security guard and instantly 3 men were on me. I had no chance I shot one in the chest, and the other in the leg but the third knocked my gun out of my hand and tackled me to the floor. Just then Sal Bonfanti walked through the open doors of the elevator.
“Ah, Ciao Paolo, I finally meet my fantastic son,” he said calmly.
“Shut the F*CK up, I am no longer affiliating myself with you anymore! You killed Ma and Joe both of our best friends!” I exclaimed.
“Ah, yes, but for you, you see Paolo you are just like me in many ways, and that is why you will join me as my successor. Once I saw how Luigi hired you, and how well you did, I decided you would be perfect working for me, that is why I had to go to such extremes, to lure you here, if not I will kill you also.”
“Kill me if you want, I don’t care.”
Just then, I slowly reached to my pocket and then quickly stabbed the final guard in the face, and then just as I reached for my Desert Eagle to kill my Papa, he shot himself.
