Guy the Wise 1: Number One Dad (Patreon)

The fluorescent-lit room buzzed faintly as two figures sat on opposite sides of scratched plexiglass. The visitor wore a dark wool coat, eyes locked on the young man across from him. The prisoner slouched low in his chair, one leg bouncing impatiently. On the glass, their reflections shadowed the other’s faces. It was obvious just from looking that they were kin.

“Twenty years in the can,” Luca Trapani said, staring at the old man on the opposite side of the glass. He held the prison phone up to his ear as he continued, “Almost as long as I’ve been alive.”

“It’s the price we pay, Lucky Boy,” Nicky answered.

“No, it’s the price I pay. Three other guys with me that night, and you make me carry all the weight.” Luca leaned in until his forehead almost bumped the glass. “You told me the case was weak. You told me they’d just drop it. Now I’ll be doing twenty fucking years in the can, eating grilled cheese off the radiator all because you wanted me to bail out the kids of some friends of ours.”

Nicky looked unamused. “Watch your mouth, Lucky Boy. We’re not exactly private.”

Luca sighed, and silence stretched between them. “You know what really kills me?” He leaned back in his chair. “It’s not the years—it’s that you lied to me. I would have been fine eating the twenty if you’d just explained things to me. ‘Lucky Boy, you gotta take one for the team.’ A simple ask.” Luca slapped one hand on the counter. “Bam. I’m there. When have I ever not been there for this family? But you sat there with that dumb grin on your face telling me that everything would be fine. You had my lawyer lie to me.”

Nicky lowered his voice to a whisper as he said, “So, what, it’s my fucking fault you’re too stupid to see that you were never getting out of this?” He tapped a finger on the glass. “You think you’re the only one that’s had to go to prison?”

“I trusted my father,” Luca said. “Trusted the family. That’s a mark against me?”

Nicky curled his pointed finger into a fist and set it down on the counter. “Luca… when you get out, people are gonna remember this favor. You’ll be respected.”

“I don’t give a damn about respect,” Luca laughed. “And you don’t give a damn about me. Why would you care when you’ve got Donny, or Joey?”

“Leave your brothers out of this,” Nicky interrupted.

“All you wanted to do was score a favor with some friends of ours,” Luca continued. “That’s all I was to you. Compared to them, I’m a… what do you call it, a… sacrificial pawn.”

“What, you think that’s not important? You think that me rising up in the world won’t be able to help put you in a better position once you get out?” Nicky said angrily.

Luca laughed when he didn’t deny it. “When have you ever tried to put me in a better position? I told you that I wanted to bring this family into the crypto scam, and you stopped me. You said it was a waste of time. Well… I compromised, did it your way. Twenty fucking years is a long time to waste, Pop.”

“You flunked out of ninth grade math, and you wanna go play with computers? You wanna play around with monopoly money?” Nicky mocked.

“Flunked out?” Luca laughed. “You made me drop out of high school, don’t you remember?”

“You had F’s even back then, don’t bullshit me,” Nicky said.

“Irregardless, that’s another thing you thought was a waste of time when I could be making real money!” Luca shouted. The guard walked up and loomed, and Luca quieted until he walked away. “President himself is involved in that crypto racket now. Could be a millionaire if I listened to you less,” he whispered angrily.

“Oh, so you’re telling me we’re supposed to invest in invisible money made by some Israeli guy and probably watched by a dozen feds? Real fucking brilliant, Lucky Boy. Might as well add another twenty to your sentence.”

“Even our cousins in the boot are picking up on this,” Luca disagreed. “Luddite that you are, I’m not surprised you don’t see it.”

“Yeah, well, this ain’t the boot, Luke. And now that you’re talking about it here, we definitely can’t do it,” Nicky pointed out. “Big mouth—always your problem, Lucky Boy.”

“Lucky Boy,” Luca repeated. “The only luck I had was not turning out exactly like you.”

“Fuck did you say?” Nicky asked, furious.

“You’ve been working for the families forty years, and you haven’t achieved a damn thing,” Luca said, his demeanor growing more intense with every passing word. “You spend all your time quivering, moaning, fearing. Spend all your time sacrificing, but never reaping any rewards. Fact is, the only reason people shook your hand was because they couldn’t remember your name, and didn’t want to waste the time to ask. And when I serve my years, when I get out of this shithole, when I take the living that’s owed to me… all you’re gonna be remembered as is the asshole father that sold out his son.”

Nicky slammed the jail phone and stood up, quickly walking away to leave. Luca watched him go, but he didn’t look happy. A grievance building up over decades had finally risen to the surface, but that was still his father.

***

Someone patted Nicky down, checking for guns or wires. When neither were found, the searcher directed him toward a distant park bench. There was two men sitting there, waiting in an empty park.

“Don Antonio,” Nicky greeted the older man respectfully as he sat down at the park bench, then turned to the other man and continued, “Rick. Thank you for your time.”

Rick gave a silent nod.

“Nicholas,” the don greeted, putting out his cigar. “How was your Lucky Boy? A very brave thing that he did. Very brave. Did you give him my greetings, tell him that he’s in our thoughts, et cetera?”

The don was a man time hadn’t been kind to. His face was a patchwork of deep creases, blotchy skin, and sagging jowls. He dressed like a man clinging to the image he’d built decades ago—custom suit, crisp collar, pocket square folded just so. But his voice? Still sharp. Still cold.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Nicky looked around, and then leaned in. “I was talking to the boy… and I think we’ve got a problem.”

Antonio measured Nicholas evenly. “What kind of problem?”

Nicholas looked around cautiously, and then leaned in closer. “Boy is saying scary stuff.”

“What, that prison’s haunted?” Antonio joked.

“Kid was talking out of line, so I told him that he always had a big mouth. You know what he said to me?” Nicky raised both his brows. “He said, ’Maybe I’ll show all of you just how big my mouth can be.’”

Antonio’s smile died immediately. “You realize what you’re saying?”

“If I told you what I’m not saying, boss, it’d scare the shit out of you.” Nicky shook his head. “We’ve got a timebomb with a timer on it.”

“Redundant, but I get your point,” Antonio said, looking around. “You know that this isn’t the old days. The feds stay off our ass because we’re not dropping bodies.”

“I got some guys in there…” Nicky leaned in very close. “Couple black guys. They can do him like that guy that owned all those islands. That ‘stein’ whatever guy.”

“Frankenstein?” Antonio joked.

“No, the… the one with the girls, and the celebrity plane rides,” Nicky said, snapping his fingers as he tried to remember.

Antonio scratched his forehead. “The Hollywood guy? Winestain or something?”

“They had him locked up, then he ‘hung himself,’ somehow. Nothing came of it. You remember?” Nicky pressed. “Whatever. Point is, I got some guys inside that can make it look like a suicide.”

Antonio studied Nicholas. “He’s your son. You’re gonna be fine carrying this?” He leaned in closer. “Are you happy knowing that your Lucky Boy will be remembered that way, forevermore?”

Nicky looked into the park for a while, watching the birds and the bees silently. When he turned back, his face was resolute. “Lucky Boy came after me first.” He shook his head. “He was always a disappointment. This is the family that matters most to me, don.”

Don Antonio held his gaze for a few seconds, and then nodded. “Alright. You’ve my blessing,” he said, waving Nicky away.

“Thank you.” Nicky rose, quickly walking away.

When Nicky was out of earshot, Antonio’s consigliere Rick spoke up, saying, “What kind of a psychopath even considers killing their son?”

“Nicholas Trapani, apparently.” Antonio shook his head. “He’s always hated that kid.”

“Why?” Rick asked.

“Nicky’s wife slept around on him before Luca was born,” Antonio explained.

“Lucky Boy’s his spitting image,” Rick pointed out. “And we’ve got paternity tests these days.”

“Yeah, well…” Antonio’s eyes went distant. “Nicky’s always been slow, vindictive, cowardly. Does crazy stuff to impress people for no reason—always has.”

Rick held Antonio’s gaze. “He could be lying.”

Antonio looked over. “Want to risk it? Kid does have a fair bit of dirt—on your son, even.”

Rick sighed. “Kinda liked that kid.”

Antonio lit up his cigar that he’d put out. “He’ll be going to a better place.”

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