Secrets Spill Like Hot Coffee

To be fair, my day started off rough, so it was only fair that it went downhill from there. I woke up late, burned my toast, couldn’t find the black tank top I swore I laid out last night, and then tripped trying to exit my apartment and put my shoes on at the same time. At work, I got chewed out for my team not sticking to the timeline my boss was so particular about and then had to work through lunch because we had to re-do part of the presentation that hadn’t saved the day before.

               So, as I finally walked out later than normal and began the walk back to my apartment, I decided to stop at a little sandwich shop for something to quiet the growling of my stomach. Absently walking through the door as I tried to answer an email, I made my way up to the counter and glanced at the menu board above the display of delightful smelling baked goods.

               “Hi, what can I get for you this afternoon?” the younger girl behind the counter asks with a smile.

               “Hey, can I just get a turkey and provolone on Italian bread with tomatoes? Oh, and a medium coffee with two shots of espresso, please.” I request, returning her smile.

               “Sure thing, ma’am. That’ll be seven dollars even.” She replies, tapping on the register.

               Suddenly, before I can hand over my card, a hand is on my elbow, stopping my movement and making me aware of a person behind me. I spin around, ready to question them and let them know that you can’t just grab another person. However, before I can, they speak.

               “I’ll pay for hers. Can I get a raspberry scone and a black coffee? Thanks, Lana.” The man asks.

               “No problem, Mr. Pesci.” The girl, Lana, replies.

               He hands her the money and as she disappears behind the door leading to what I would assume is the kitchen. Then, before I can blink, his hand is back on my elbow and he leads me towards a table by the one window.

               “Excuse me, sir. Just because you paid for my food, thank you by the way, you can’t just manhandle me.” I finally speak up, halting midway to the table and shaking his hand off.

               “My apologies, Miss Costello. But I assure you, you will want to hear what I have to say.” The man says, piercing my eyes with his.

               I take a moment to look him over. He must be in his mid to late fifties, a little on the heavier side, with black hair that is going gray, and dark slacks with a button up shirt and suspenders, a dinner jacket topping off the look. Everything about him is tasteful and well put together. He also has an air of authority, and against my better judgement, I follow him to the table. We sit on opposite sides and I fix him with a guarded gaze, not sure what’s happening.

               “So, Miss Costello, were you aware that your grandfather passed away two nights ago?” He suddenly asks, not bothering with any small talk.

               I raise an eyebrow, “Sir, you’ve got the wrong girl. Both my grandfathers, may they rest in peace, have been gone for years now.”

               “I assure you, that is not the case. Your biological grandfather on the Costello side was very much alive until two days ago, may God rest his soul.”

               “First of all, I have no basis on believing what you say. And second, that’s simply not true. I grew up around my father’s parents.”

               “I understand it’s hard to believe, but I do have proof. As well, there’s much more to my visiting you here.”

               I shake my head, deciding that this guy is definitely on something, or just plain crazy, and it’s in my best interest to leave now. However, before I can stand from my seat, the man pulls a few folded papers from his jacket and I catch a glance of something much more sinister tucked into his waistband. The black metal shines when the light bounces off of it, and suddenly I’m all too aware of the fact that this man is armed, and I should probably sit back down and think about my next move carefully.

               The man hardly glances up at me as he unfolds the papers and lays them out in front of me. I gulp down my fear and lean forward a little, taking in the multiple photographs and letters. I lift one of a couple of well-dressed men, standing with a woman in a stunning dress and a smirk on her face. It’s old, but I recognize my grandmother as the woman in the dress, knowing what she looked like from old photos in her home. With trembling fingers, I look over the rest and skim the letters.

               “Believe it now?” The man finally asks as he sips his coffee, our food having long sense arrived.

               “I suppose I can’t deny it. Though, what does my grandfather’s death have to do with me? I never knew him.” I question, not looking up from the letter in my hands.

               “That’s where it gets complicated. See, your grandfather ran…some businesses…and since he’s now passed on, someone needs to take these over. And since he doesn’t have any sons to speak of anymore, and no grandsons, you’re in line to take these businesses over.”

               “You’re kidding. What kind of businesses?”

               “How much do you know about your late father’s side of the family?”

               “Nothing really. He never spoke about it.”

               The man nods slowly, taking in my words. I’m at a loss for what to do or say at this point, not able to comprehend everything that’s being thrown at me. However, there’s more to come as I quickly find out.

               “Your Costello name means nothing to you?” The man finally asks.

               “I mean, it’s my Italian heritage, but other than that, not really.” I answer truthfully.

               “Your name is your link to the Costello crime family, Angela. The same one that you’re now the rightful heir to.”

               It’s at this point that my world comes crashing to a halt and I simply close my eyes and shake my head. It’s childish, but if I can’t see the problem, it doesn’t exist. Except real life doesn’t work this way and the man in front of me doesn’t seem to like this response.

               “It’s a lot to take in, but you need to make a decision to either take over your position or sign it over to someone else.”

               “Look sir, I need a minute. All of a sudden, I’m related to a mafia boss, and now ai have to take over his crime family. I’ve never even been pulled over! I don’t know how to run something like that!”

               “Shh, keep your voice down, please. I understand your shock, but that doesn’t change anything. You now have a decision to make.”

               In response, I bury my head in my arms and refuse to look up. The man sighs, and I hear him shuffle to he feet.

               “Angela, it’s your choice, and I feel confident you’ll choose wisely. There’s a lot of money to be made, you have a whole side of your family to meet, and you’ll have plenty of people to help you learn.”

               “I just need a few days to decide.”

               “Understandable. Keep those photos and letters, my phone number is on the back of the first photo. Let me know when you decide.”

               “Will do.” I reply, miserably.

               “Oh, and Angela, one more thing.”

               “Go for it.”

               “Can you keep a secret?”