The Russos 3 Read online

  Published by Mojocastle Press, LLC

  Price, Utah

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  The Russos: Episode Three

  ISBN: 1-60180-031-2

  Copyright © 2007 D. J. Manly

  Cover Art Copyright @ 2007 April Martinez

  All rights reserved.

  Excluding legitimate review sites and review publications, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Copying, scanning, uploading, selling and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without permission from the publisher is illegal, punishable by law and will be prosecuted.

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  http://www.mojocastle.com/

  Also By D.J. Manly:

  Connor's Storm

  Melting Ice

  The Russos: Digital Soap

  Dedication:

  To my readers.

  The Russos:

  Episode Three

  D. J. Manly

  Previously on The Russos...

  In Episode Two, Tony, who has just been informed that his real father is Johnny Russo, finally arrives in Los Angeles where his biological father lies in a coma from a gunshot wound.

  Mac, who is very upset about what is happening to Johnny and his best friend, reminisces with Johnny at his bedside about what it was like growing up with him and his brother, while Johnny still hovers near death.

  Sofia Russo, in agony over the state of both her sons, thinks about her youth, and how she fell in love back in Italy, with a concert pianist, Drake's real father...and the love of her life.

  And Now...Episode Three of The Russos

  It was half past eight, and Francine Thomson was exhausted. She took off her high heels, shoved them into her bag and put on her running shoes while she waited to see Drake at the jail.

  Sure, she was being well paid for this case, but it was exhausting her, both physically and emotionally.

  Seth Anderson, the DA, was a hardass when it came to giving anyone a break. Everything by the book. She thought she'd have Drake out of jail by the end of the week. Now it was beginning to look like two weeks.

  Suddenly, a guard appeared and directed her down the hallway. She stepped through the metal detector, then went straight through to the consultation room.

  The guard opened the door for her.

  Drake looked up as she came in, and smiled.

  She smiled back. How could she not? He had a dynamite smile.

  "I didn't expect to see you back here tonight," he said in his deep, smooth voice. "Has something happened, Francine?" He sat back in his chair.

  She pulled out a chair on the other side of the table and then searched in her bag for a cigarette. She had told him to call her Francine, but she regretted it now.

  He had a way of saying her name that sounded like they had just been in bed together. She didn't think it was intentional. It was just his way. She put a cigarette in her mouth, lit it and then held one out to him.

  He shook his head. "My voice, smoking ruins the voice," he explained.

  "Oh," she replied, blowing out smoke.

  "What's wrong, Francine? You seem tense."

  She was the lawyer and he was defendant. He was the one who was supposed to be tense.

  "The D.A. agreed that the evidence seems to back up your story. The fingerprints on the gun and the angle of the bullet indicate that your brother tried to pull the gun away from you and toward himself before it went off. He was shot at extremely close range, and..."

  "So, that's good," Drake cut her off. He got up and paced. He didn't want to go through all this again.

  "They believe me, then?"

  She nodded.

  "So, when can I get out of here?"

  "There is something I don't understand, Drake," Francine eyed him.

  He stood still and met her eyes. "What's that?"

  "This complete about-face. First you don't give a damn, and now you're the epitome of cooperation."

  "I'm the only chance my brother has. I need to be with him, that's all."

  "Why did you try to kill yourself?" Francine asked him.

  "Who says I did?" he asked, raising a dark eyebrow.

  "Well, that's your defence. That's our defence. You'll have to explain why you wanted to kill yourself in the hearing."

  "Isn't there any way we can do without that?"

  "No. The D.A. wants to hear all this from your lips, not mine. Then they'll drop the charges."

  "Can I get out of here before the hearing?"

  "Yes. The hearing could be months from now. They may require bail at this point, but it won't be a lot. You can afford it. Of course, you'll have to promise not to leave the city until the hearing."

  He nodded solemnly.

  "We need to draw up a formal statement based on what you told me this afternoon, and it will have to be more detailed."

  "Meaning?"

  "Meaning you will have to explain to the judge why you tried to kill yourself."

  Drake's eyes grew stormy. "What in fuck does this judge care why I tried to kill myself? Jesus, lots of people in this business try to kill themselves, and some even succeed. It's a crazy life, a lot of pressure. You're always on the road, you're always overtired. Maybe I was just tired of living."

  Francine gazed at him. "A man like you...in the prime of your life, with everything to live for, tried to shoot himself in the head? You're talented, on top of the heap, great-looking, rich, lovers coming out your ears. What could you possibly be lacking?"

  "Love," he said softly.

  "Love?" Her eyes widened. "You could have anyone you wanted."

  He shook his head. "The one I want, I can never have. You look at me and think I have everything, but inside I'm empty, and there is no one who can fill this space except the wrong one."

  "Why? Are they married, in love with someone else, dead? What? There is always a way when love is real."

  "Not always," he said softly, looking away. "The only way to stop it is to end my life. I've thought about it a few times over the years, but I've never had the nerve to go through with it. I'm too selfish to die, I think." He paused, and then laughed. "I worry about what it would do to...this person...if I did it, and now I know how it would feel...almost..."

  She got up from her seat, walked over to him and pulled him into her arms. It was a foolish thing to do, totally impetuous and unprofessional, but the look on his face was so tormented, so sad.

  She held him, smoothing back his hair. He buried his face in her shoulder, tightening his hold on her for a second.

  She knew she should release him, but God he felt good, and when he moved his face toward hers, she felt the pressure of his lips against hers. Her lips parted automatically, and she allowed the kiss to deepen.

  His hands moved up her back, his groin pressed against her hip and then suddenly, she gasped and pulled away. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

  He gave her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. I really crossed the line. Forgive me."

  She didn't know what to say. She was embarrassed.

  She was turned on. She cleared her throat and went to pick up her bag off the floor. "I really should go. I want you to know that I'm doing everything I can to get you out of here this week, but it may take longer." She looked down at her bag and fumbled with the zipper.

  "How much longer?" he asked, taking a seat.

  She didn't want to look at him, so she turned toward the door. "I don't know, two weeks max. Try not to worry, I'll be by...tomorrow, mayb
e," she replied hastily and knocked on the door for the guard to let her out.

  When the door closed behind her, she practically ran down the hallway.

  In the security of her car, she picked up her cell phone. She dialled Frank Carr's home phone number. It picked up right away.

  "Hello?" It was a woman's voice.

  "Hi, can I speak to Frank, please?"

  The woman never answered. Instead, she let the phone fall and called Frank's name. Then Francine heard her say, "One of your whores, perhaps!"

  Francine laughed as Frank picked up the phone and said hello.

  "Just one of your whores, Francine Thomson, here," she giggled into the receiver.

  "Sorry about that," Frank cleared his throat. "What's happening? Any movement yet?"

  "Drake will be out in a week or two. He'll need a lawyer to see him through the next few months before the hearing. I..."

  "What do you mean, he'll need a lawyer? You're his lawyer," Frank interjected.

  "I want off the case, Frank," Francine stated.

  "Why?"

  "Why? You want the truth or bullshit?"

  "Eh...let's see...eh, truth? What do you think?" Frank snapped.

  "Okay, I want off this case because Drake Russo is one charming, gorgeous son of a bitch and I think I could fall for him hard."

  "So? He has that effect on everyone...the letter carrier, the clerk at the corner store...don't worry about it."

  "But I am worried. Now, I can recommend--" she began.

  "So what if you do fall for him?" Frank was saying.

  "You're a gorgeous woman. He may be interested. Have an affair, live a little."

  "Frank, you don't have affairs with men like Drake Russo unless you're a masochist. He's a heartbreaker. You don't leave men like that, they leave you and believe me, they do damage."

  "Sounds like you're talking from experience," Frank suggested gently.

  "I am. I recognize the type. They're irresistible to me. Gorgeous, charming, with quick wits and fast tongues. Sweet as sugar, but deadly."

  "I have a solution. Remain Drake's lawyer, but just keep your distance."

  "Too late already. He kissed me tonight and believe me, if we hadn't been in that jail cell...I wouldn't be on the phone with you right now."

  "What's got into him?"

  "What's got into him? He's in jail, Frank. He's worried about his brother. He's vulnerable as hell and he's lonely. For some people, it's chocolate and ice cream. I get the feeling that for Drake, well, it's..."

  "Sex," Frank supplied. "Look, sleep on it, okay? You'll feel better in the morning, I guarantee you."

  "Ah...Frank..." she groaned.

  "At least stick with him until he gets out of there. He needs you, Francine. We all need you. He trusts you."

  "All right, Frank, and fuck you, okay?" she said.

  Frank laughed. "Ya, well, pleasant dreams, kid." He hung up.

  What a bastard, she thought, but then she started to laugh. She was overreacting, wasn't she? It was just a kiss. A kiss that made her head spin and her pulse rate double, but it was only a kiss.

  * * * * * *

  Mac held up a hand when he saw Angelo walking down the hallway toward him and stifled a yawn. It was almost nine o'clock in the evening. He must have dozed off. He moved his neck around a little and stretched out his legs. "Where in hell have you been, and where's that crazy uncle of yours?"

  "Drunk," Angelo replied, falling into the chair beside Mac.

  "Drunk?" Mac repeated blankly.

  "Yep, drunk. I left him at Mama's hotel. He needed to sleep and if this is the only way he can sleep, well...." he trailed off. "Did Johnny's son turn up yet?"

  "Ya. Seems like a nice kid. He's been in and out of Johnny's room with your mom. He looks a lot like Johnny."

  "Um," Angelo replied. "Is he in there now?"

  "Ya. So, did you eat?"

  "Chinese. That's where uncle Pep got sloshed."

  "In the Chinese restaurant?" Mac laughed.

  "That's it, in the restaurant. I carried him into the hotel. He passed out on me."

  Mac was laughing.

  Suddenly Janet appeared around the corner. She smiled when she saw her son.

  "Hey, baby," she said, bending down to kiss him on the forehead. "Pepi here?"

  "Drunk," Mac announced.

  She looked at Angelo for an explanation.

  "Don't ask." He shook his head. "Have you heard that Dad could be out of jail as early as Friday?"

  Janet clutched the arm of the chair and sat down.

  Mac whooped, and then realized he was in a hospital and put his hand over his mouth.

  "Who told you this?" Janet asked.

  Angelo repeated what his grandmother had said.

  Mac placed his hands together and closed his eyes.

  "Is this for real?"

  Angelo smiled and nodded.

  Janet exhaled. "I knew he'd be out soon. I knew that keeping him in there was ridiculous."

  "He's got a good lawyer, Francine Thomson. Great-looking, too," Angelo muttered.

  Janet swatted his arm. "Never mind. She could look like Frankenstein's monster for all I care, as long as she gets your father out of jail," she said stiffly.

  "So, what does she look like?" Mac asked, elbowing Angelo in the ribs.

  "Tall, fair hair, beautiful thing with legs this long," Angelo stretched out his arms.

  Janet shook her head.

  "Maybe I should check her out. I could use a lawyer," Mac smirked.

  "What in hell do you need a lawyer for?" Janet demanded.

  "I don't know. I could get into trouble one day. I'd put her on retainer."

  Angelo started to laugh.

  Janet got up and stalked off.

  "What's with Mom?" Angelo asked.

  "Oh, I don't know. She's mad at me, I think," Mac shrugged.

  "Why?" Angelo asked.

  "Because I told her some truth earlier on about us, and she didn't like what I said."

  "Oh," Angelo replied softly. "Any chance you guys will take up where you left off that one summer?"

  "Would you like that?" Mac asked.

  "Of course I would. It would certainly help keep her off my back," he teased.

  "She loves your father," Mac commented simply, looking away.

  "They're never going to get back together, Mac, she knows that. I've told her not to waste her life on Dad.

  You're good together, and I know she really cares about you. She's always had the hots for ya."

  "Thanks, Angelo," Mac grinned. "Hang around. You're great for my ego."

  "Angelo, come and meet your cousin now," His mom demanded, coming back around the corner.

  Angelo sighed and got up. "Duty calls. Save my seat, will ya?"

  Mac laughed and looked around at all the empty seats. "Sure, no problem."

  Tony stood at the end of the hall looking out the window. When he saw the tall young man walking toward him with his aunt, he thought for a minute that it was Drake Russo.

  He sucked in a breath. Drake Russo. In all his life, he never dreamt that... Then the young man came closer and Tony realized that it wasn't Drake Russo. It was someone who looked a whole lot like him, but was around the same age as himself.

  Janet looked at Tony and smiled. "This is my son, Drake, but everyone calls him Angelo. Angelo, this is your cousin Tony."

  Angelo held out his hand. "Hi there, Tony. Finally nice to meet you."

  Tony took his hand. It was warm and strong. He shook it and then let it go. "Hello...Angelo?" He squinted. "Where does Angelo come from?"

  "It's my middle name. I'm named after my dad, and it got confusing sometimes. No one knew if they were talking about Dad or me, and I don't especially like being referred to as Drake Junior. It's okay when you're four, I guess, but not when you get older."

  Tony liked him immediately. He was earthy and handsome. He had a warm smile. He seemed like the kind of guy you could tell anything to and
he'd understand.

  As if sensing they would hit it off, Janet excused herself and left the two boys alone.

  "Must be weird," Angelo said, "finding out your dad is famous and everything."

  "Weirder than you can imagine. I worshipped these guys, me and my friend back home," Tony said, leaning against the window.

  "Where's home?"

  "Small town in Ontario. You wouldn't know it."

  "I've been to Toronto."

  "Well, it's not far from there. When were you in Toronto?" Tony asked him.

  "Oh, as a teenager, eh...'94 or '95. Dad was doing a concert there. I used to travel with them in the summers. Toronto was one of the stops on their North American tour."

  "I tried to get tickets to that concert. I stood outside all night, Sam and I. It was sold out. We were so disappointed. Imagine, I couldn't get into my own father's concert."

  Angelo studied Tony for a moment as he listened to him talk about that night in Toronto. He was young and had led a sheltered life in a small town. Los Angeles was a whole different world.

  He was a good-looking kid. Angelo decided that he was open, liked to talk and he was probably not really in tune with the really ugly aspects of the world yet.

  There was something really refreshing about that.

  "Well, that was then," Angelo shrugged. "You didn't know that Johnny Russo was your father back then."

  "I didn't know anything at all back then," he said, looking out the window.

  A silence lingered for a few seconds, then, Tony turned back to his newfound cousin. "So, what is it like being Drake Russo's son?" Tony asked.

  Angelo shrugged. "Sometimes it's fun, sometimes a pain in the ass. Most of the time when I was growing up, no one knew who I was. My parents wanted to keep me out of the limelight, so they agreed I would go by the name of Smith until I got older. I went to an ordinary public school and even some of my friends didn't know that Drake Russo was my father. Later on, when I got to be a teenager, they let me hang around backstage and travel with the band. The media didn't even know me until a few years back, and still I don't think many people realize that Drake has a son."