Chapter 7
Tony watched his father pour a new drink. He gently swirled his own brandy snifter before taking a long whiff and sip. His father's plane had landed that morning, forcing Tony to take up the mantle of the loving, prodigal son. They had met on the tarmac and shook hands amid the flash of cameras and shouting of questions from the city's reporters.
His father had seemed genuinely pleased to see his son, while Tony flawlessly maintained his best smile. Later in the afternoon, they had gone to lunch and then the country club for a round of golf. Again, Tony played his part well. Not only for his father but for those around them. Appearances count for something.
Then, just two hours ago, they had had dinner at the City Club. The meal had elicited Tony's best performance yet as the other patrons sauntered past, throwing half-hearted sentiments and false praises and flattery. His father remained impressed by his estranged son's apparent success.
Now, instead of going back to headquarters, Tony had brought his father and entourage to his penthouse. They now sat in the library, where the two passed around fine cigars and even better liquor for an 'after-dinner discussion'. So far, they had only accomplished the meaningless small talk of a father and son separated for years. Tony was beginning to tire from it but whatever his father had to say, he'd say it when he was good and ready.
Carmine Matizello sighed contently, taking a long puff on his cigar. He blew the smoke out lazily, savoring the taste.
"Excellent."
He glanced up at his son. "Excellence-in everything you do and have, Tony. Everyday, I read in the papers that my boy has once again acquired a new business, new partners, new wealth. You have done much for the family name. I could not be prouder."
"Thank you, Papa." Tony kept his voice low and even. " I am glad I please you."
"Just today, I read in my local paper, that you now have control of the…boxing operations in this city?"
"Yes. It was a long negotiation but I finally wrangled a deal. I could not be happier."
His father chuckled. "Yes, I can see that. The people we met today, they all seemed to appreciate you and your success-and you enjoyed them for it. I always say that a man is truly successful when the people around him respect and honor his good fortunes."
Tony gripped his glass, his mouth twitching with effort in keeping a tight smile on his face.
"Yes. I remember. But Papa, my success, I fear is…all very relative. My name is what they respect. Not my own ventures. "
His father waved the comment off. "Nonsense-your name is only an enhancement; an inherent privilege. You have taken everything this city has to offer for yourself. I would respect you for that."
Tony stood to refill his snifter, turning his back to his father. The old man took another long pull on his cigar, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"Of course…", He began, "The papers haven't failed in mentioning that…Green Hornet character."
Tony smirked at the disdain in his father's voice. "Not a problem, Papa-merely a masked man trying to be more than he is. He's not an issue."
"His presence is enough-a threat to you. They call him the greatest criminal mastermind this city has ever seen. Now, Tony…when they call him that-you should have taken care of him before this, before he becomes a threat. Your inattentiveness has disappointed me, but…." His father shrugged. "If you say he is not a problem…."
Tony put the glass stop back on the brandy bottle a little too sharply as he turned to face his father. " Yes, Papa-I say he is not a problem."
Carmine Matizello stared at his son then broke eye contact with a drink. "Well then. That seems to settle things."
"What do you mean?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Tony inwardly loathed the condescending tone. " You have everything this city has to offer, the only man who could possibly be a threat does not have you concerned, and your status and wealth have brought you all the success, honor and respect that you could hope for. Now…with all that said and done, I believe you should return home with me. It's time you took your place beside me as my successor."
There it was-the call home. He had wished for it, waited for it-yet it wasn't what he expected. His father looked to be in good shape-silver-haired, tanned and craggy face, the age spots on his gnarled hands and knuckles, a bit of a shuffle in his walk, a noticeable decline in his eyesight and slight hearing loss. He was old but not dying.
If he went home now, he'd have to wait, stuck, away from his business here-long enough for the Green Hornet to become a real threat. No.
"Papa, I wish to return. I do miss Mama and my brothers. However, I can't. You are a strong man, who knows how long you will live." Hopefully not long. " If I go home now, I will have to wait for my time. While I am away, I fear my business ventures here will suffer and more than that…I say the Hornet is not a risk now, who knows what will happen in the future. You must understand."
His father's face had gone rigid, hands clutching the cigar and the glass to the point where the cigar broke in half. He tossed the halves in the ash tray and stood.
"You are refusing me, your father?"
The angry incredulity caused Tony to pull his chin up in defiance. "I am. I am my own man until my family needs me."
"No!" His father shouted. His fist came down on the nearest table. "You are my son! You are my successor. You are my first-born. You are mine! For as long as I am alive, you obey me!"
Tony glared coldly at the old man. "No. I left you to be what I wanted to be-successful in my own right. My name was always enough to just give me what I wanted but I wanted to work for it. You let me go then. You respected my decision, you even said it was a good idea. Now what? Just because you want it, I must drop everything and come running back? Never."
His father drew himself up. "Then you leave me no choice!" The stone-cold contempt in his voice was more than Tony could ever remember hearing. He had indeed struck a blow.
"You have three brothers, all willing to do as I say for the good of our family. First born and named successor or not, you have renounced your claim to the Matizello name! They now have every right to it as you have none. My second-born and your brother Rodrigo will now carry the honor you so flippantly disregarded. You have your independence and may God damn you for it as I have!"
Tony's face went slack, uncomprehending of the disastrous effects of his father's proclamation. His birthright-stripped, a younger, greedier, inexperienced brother put above him. His entire plan-ruined. His father, the blind, stupid old fool, didn't understand. He was so sure he would-everything he had done had been for his benefit and his father's. The empire they could have had…!
Suddenly, the evil thoughts of earlier, of killing his father outright and exercising his right as Underboss, flushed through him like fire. He flung his glass against the nearest wall, shattering it and showering the area with the ruby-red brandy. He grabbed the chair that blocked him from his father and tipped it over with a thud.
His father stared. "What is the matter with you? I've given you what you wanted. No more responsibility, go ahead and play in your own little world-ours is no longer of any consequence of yours!"
"You damn fool! You don't get it! Everything I've done was for you, Papa! I built myself up so when the time came, mine and yours would combine and the Matizello family would reign supreme! You're so blind to your needs and wants and demands, you forget about everybody else! I am your Underboss, I am your successor, I am your first-born! It is my right! And nobody, not even you, can take it away from me!"
The words Carmine Matizello had spoken earlier came back to haunt them both as Tony slowly advanced on his father, shoving him into a corner.
For as long as I am alive-you obey me.
That wouldn't be for much longer.
