The Russos 1 Page 7

  He walked in the door and was immediately assaulted by a blast of rock music coming from the sound system. 'Satisfaction' by the Stones was playing. He would have a drink, listen to a few tunes and then leave.

  * * * * * *

  It was pouring outside, which didn't happen that often in L.A. The alarm clock said seven a.m., but it felt like three. Janet pulled herself out of bed and walked down the hallway to her son's room. The bed was still unmade, but he wasn't in it. She bent over and picked up his dirty clothes. She took his open suitcase off the bed and set it in the corner. He hadn't even unpacked.

  Last night when she came home, right away she noticed that his bike was gone. Poor kid, she thought.

  He had probably been looking all over for them.

  When she went into the house and found his suitcase, she knew he had come home. She kicked herself mentally for not having left him a note. She should have come home before going up to Sophia's hotel suite to eat. Oh, well. The question now was, where had he been all night?

  She made herself some toast, put on the coffee and sat down at the kitchen counter. She had to stop acting the overprotective mother. Angelo was eighteen. He had been halfway around the world by himself.

  When the phone rang, she let the answering machine pick it up. A voice said, "Call me back, Janet, I refuse to talk on this thing." It was Sophia. She sighed. Last night, she had tried to reach Sandy. There had been no answer. She had promised Sophia that she would let her know the minute she contacted her.

  That's probably why she was calling.

  Janet poured her coffee, threw in some milk and dug her hands in her hair. Johnny looked really bad yesterday. She could hardly stand looking at him. He had always been the one with the most energy out of the three of them. When Drake and Pepi were ready to drop after a concert, Johnny would want to go dancing, to party. Now, he looked dead. The only thing that moved was his eyes under his lids, constantly moving. Janet thought that maybe he was dreaming, but the doctor told her it was just a reflex.

  Janet got up with her coffee cup, lit a cigarette and looked at the phone. She wondered if she should try her. Sandy. Goddamn you, girl.

  Just then, she heard the garage door open and there was the roar of a motorcycle. Angelo. She got up and hurried to the door. There he was, her son, her beautiful boy, after a year of missing him.

  "Angel!" She ran to embrace him.

  He kissed her cheek and gave her a bear hug, growling humorously just the way Drake used to.

  "Hey, old lady," he teased, grinning at her.

  "Old lady!" she accused, placing an arm around him, squeezing him a few times as they walked down the hall to the kitchen together. "You little ass, where have you been? I've been worried to death. What time did you get in?"

  "Ah...I don't know," he sat at the counter, rubbing his face. He looked tired. He needed to sleep. "Guess it was about suppertime. I lay down and passed out, and then I tried to see Uncle Johnny...they wouldn't let me in, and I didn't know where you were. Were you and Uncle Pep at the hospital?"

  "Until around five, then we went to your grandmother's suite at the hotel to eat."

  He nodded, got up and poured himself some coffee.

  "Are you hungry?" Janet asked.

  "No, exhausted. You know one of those stupid security guys that works for Frank gave me a hassle like you wouldn't believe last night. He told me to go home and smoke dope and then...get this...he made a pass at me."

  Janet's eyes widened. She laughed. "He's got good taste."

  "Mom, he's a creep," Angelo protested.

  "Well, maybe, but he's the least of our worries. How did you find out about all this? Where were you?"

  "London, heard it in a pub." Angelo drained the coffee and sat back down at the counter. He laid his head down. "Mom, how is Dad?"

  She heard the pain in his voice. "I haven't seen him. He's been charged." She blinked back tears.

  Being here with Drake's son suddenly made her feel as if her heart were breaking.

  "I know." He looked up. "Why'd he shoot Uncle Johnny, Mom?"

  "I don't know."

  He got off the stool. "How is Grandma?"

  "Taking all this very hard, of course. Pepi has really had a lot to deal with. Your dad won't see her and she was insistent yesterday, and then when she saw your uncle...well. Also, she's really on my back about getting in contact with Sandy."

  Angelo had almost forgotten that Johnny had a son in Canada. "If your friend wanted news of her ex, you think she would have..."

  "Yes, but she never told Tony about his dad, so the family thinks Tony should know in case something should...you know..."

  Angelo swallowed. "Could he...die?" Her son's face drained of color as he said the words.

  Janet went over and took him in her arms. They held each other for a moment, each with their own fears. She didn't respond. She couldn't. The possibility was just too terrible.

  Angelo had another coffee with his mother and then told her he was going to grab some sleep. They would leave together for the hospital after lunch.

  When Angelo retired to his room, Janet paced and smoked several cigarettes. At ten-thirty, she picked up the phone and dialed Sandy's number.

  * * * * * *

  Tony looked out the window. His father hadn't come home since Friday and his mother had kept a low profile, spending most of the time in her room. He had spent Friday night and most of Saturday with Sam, who was too shocked by the news to say much of anything. Mostly they walked together while Tony ranted and Sam listened.

  Saturday night, his father---or at least the man he had always believed to be his father---called. His mother answered the phone and then told him to pick up the extension in his room.

  Tom Newton was at his mother's, who lived at the other end of town. He wanted to know if Tony was okay and he wanted to tell him that he loved him, and that if he wanted to go to L.A., he would buy him the ticket. Tony couldn't reply. He started to cry, and then he hung up.

  He was so confused, hurt and angry, especially at his mother. He felt so bad that Tom, whom he loved very much, wasn't really his father. His real father was a famous man, one of the greats in rock music, and his uncle was 'the' Drake Russo, and he never ever got to benefit from it. He loved music, played a little guitar himself, but was denied his family. He could imagine his dad and uncle teaching him to play. It was a dream, a dream that could have been reality if he and his real father had been together.

  Selfish of him or not, he resented being shut out completely from his father's world, a world any kid his age would have died to be a part of. Why? Why did she lie to him about all this? Why didn't his real father want to see him? Why didn't he try and contact him? Did he even know about him? What had happened to make his mother hate Johnny Russo so much that she kept his son a secret? Was he a secret?

  He still had so many questions he needed to ask his mother, but he couldn't stand to look at her just yet.

  He needed time, and yet all the time he waited, his real father might be dying. He was tempted to call Grandma and tell Dad that he would take that ticket.

  He didn't need to say anything to his mom about it.

  He'd just go.

  When the phone rang, he froze. His mother picked up after two rings. Tony moved to his bedroom door and pushed it open a crack. He heard her say, "How dare you...how dare you call me! Never call here again!" Tony heard the phone slam down onto the receiver. He heard his mother sobbing, then the sound of footsteps and the front door slamming. She was gone.

  Tony held his breath. He came out of his room.

  Who was that? When the phone rang again, he jumped. It froze his blood. He stopped. Two rings, three.

  He ran to the phone in his mother's bedroom and picked it up. He felt numb. His hands were shaking, and so was his voice. "Hello?"

  "Sandy...no...is this...Tony?"

  It was a woman's voice.

  "Yes...who...who is this?"

  "It's Aunt Jan
et, calling from Los Angeles. Is your mother...?"

  "No...but I know. I know that..." He took a painful breath. "Johnny is my father."

  There was a silence.

  "I found out on Friday. Why didn't Mom tell me?"

  "I don't know. You should ask her that. Listen, Tony, do you want to see your father? He's quite ill...in a coma. I can arrange for a ticket for you if your mother...you can stay here with us, there's lots of room."

  "Us?"

  "Me and Angelo, your Uncle Drake's son. I would like to talk to Sandy, though, if..."

  "She stormed out of here a few minutes ago. I don't think she wants to talk to you." Tears streamed down his cheeks, he wiped them away. "Janet...I mean, Aunt Janet, can you arrange a ticket for me, then? Call me back and let me know when the flight is. I'll get my friend Sam to drive me to the airport. He just got a secondhand motorcycle for his birthday."

  "I'll call back in twenty minutes, okay?"

  "Thank you," Tony replied and hung up. He called Sam and asked him for a lift to the airport. He knew that he would take him. He began to pack some clothes in a bag, and then the phone rang again. It had only been ten minutes.

  "Tony, Pepi will send the jet for you. There is a landing place right outside of the airport in Toronto. Anyway, be at the airport at seven o'clock your time this evening. Wait at the Canada customs desk. A man will be carrying a sign with your name on it, okay?"

  "I can't...I can hardly believe this. Okay, I'll be there at the Canada customs desk. I'll find it."

  "See ya later," she said and hung up.

  Tony called Sam back and told him the news. "Can we leave early? I'd like to be gone before Mom comes home. I'll leave her a note telling her where I am. Oh, ya, and I have to go to the bank machine first and withdraw some money." He had three hundred and twenty-two dollars in his bank account.

  "Sure, it's going to take us at least two and half hours to get to Toronto anyway. We can hang out at the airport, maybe grab a bite."

  "I'll treat you," Tony offered. "Okay, I'll be ready in a half hour."

  "I'll be there soon."

  Tony sat down to write the note. The words came easily, pouring onto the page. There was nothing she could do now to stop him. He was going to be with his family; his aunt, his uncles, his cousin and his dad.

  Sam arrived after ten minutes. Tony put the note where she was sure to find it, grabbed his bag, locked the door behind him and got on the back of Sam's old bike. "Hope it holds out until Toronto," Tony teased.

  "Me too," Sam replied, handing his friend an old helmet.

  Sam put on his own helmet and then after a few seconds, he asked Tony if he were scared.

  "Ya, scared, excited. This should be such a happy time, really. My dream of meeting face to face with the Russo brothers has come true. Only problem is, one is in the hospital, one's in jail and I've just found out that they all happen to be my relatives. It's a weird feeling. They're sending a private jet for me, imagine!"

  "Wow! You didn't tell me that."

  "Freaky. Anyway, let's get out of here," Tony urged.

  They didn't talk much after that. It was almost impossible to hear each other anyway what with the traffic on the 401, the roar of the engine and the wind.

  It was mid-October already, and it was damned cold on the back of the bike. Tony sure was glad of his black leather jacket. His thighs and his hands, however, were freezing by the time they arrived at the airport.

  It was a little after four. Tony paid for Sam's parking and they went to get coffee in order to warm up. They sat together, watching the planes land and take off.

  "Ever wonder where all those people are going to?" Sam mused.

  Tony smiled. "Ya. Somewhere good, maybe."

  "I've never been to L.A.," Sam offered. "You're lucky. Did you ever go?"

  Tony shook his head. He put down his coffee cup.

  "They seem to want me out there. That's why I decided to go, you know. I don't think I would have gone unless someone called. Dad...well, Tom offered me a ticket, but I...I didn't know if I'd be welcome."

  "That was pretty cool of your dad," Sam said, meeting Tony's eyes.

  "Ya," Tony replied softly, "it was, wasn't it?"

  * * * * * *

  "Johnny," Sophia said softly, leaning over the guardrails so that she could place her mouth close to her son's ear, "Tony is coming. Janet spoke to him on the phone. He's a big boy now. He's coming, John, he's going to be here by your side."

  Pepi watched his mother's wrinkled hands curl around the metal railing and tighten. Tears were coursing down her cheeks.

  "I know he hears me...I know..." She lowered her head and started to cry.

  Pepi, who'd been sitting in the corner of the room, got up and went over to her. He pulled her hands away from the guardrail and directed her out of the room.

  "Enough now, Mama," he said. "Go and sit down. Janet will be here with Angelo soon. You don't want Angelo to see you with your eyes all puffy, do you? He'll get upset if he sees his grandmother like that."

  She sat, took a tissue out of her purse and blew her nose.

  He had stayed at the hotel with her last night. They sat together late into the night talking. She fell asleep in one of the overstuffed brocade chairs. He had covered her with a blanket and let her sleep.

  He didn't have the energy to drive home. He had curled up on one of the sofas and passed out. First thing in the morning, she wanted to go to the hospital. He hardly had time to shower. By nine-thirty, they were in Johnny's room.

  There had been no change. He looked the same as he had yesterday. He still lay in the same position, flat on his back, hands at his side. His head was covered with a thick bandage, his shoulder-length curly dark hair was gone. They had shaved his head for the surgery. His usual swarthy complexion was white. He was hooked up to a heart monitor, there were tubes coming out of his mouth and out of various other parts of his body. The doctor told them that they hadn't yet put an eating tube in. For now, the I.V. was enough. He looked dead yesterday, he looked dead today, and the only good news was that he seemed to be breathing on his own.

  "I need to see Drake," his mother said suddenly.

  Pepi was sitting across from her, dozing off. He lifted his head. "What?"

  "I have to see Drake, and I have to speak to Johnny alone."

  "Mama," Pepi groaned, "Johnny can't hear you, and Drake is in jail. He's supposed to meet with his lawyer today."

  "I don't care! Drake will see me. You call him and you tell him that I want to see him. You saw him!" she accused.

  "Yes, but only for a few minutes, Mama," Pepi insisted, his voice growing impatient.

  "I have things to discuss with him...things I need to tell him." She looked away suddenly, winding her fingers together. "Things I should have told him long ago."

  "Mama," Pepi leaned over to her, "are you all right? What's wrong?"

  He tried to touch her hand, but she pulled away.

  She looked at him sharply. "Do you love Drake?"

  Pepi looked surprised. "Love Drake...of course I love Drake, Mama. Everyone loves Drake."

  "Do you think I loved Drake more than you and your brother?"

  Pepi's eyes widened at the question. Why was she asking him this now? He was speechless.

  "Answer me!" Her voice was sharp. "Do you think I loved Drake better than you and Johnny?"

  Pepi nodded, trying to find his voice. "I think you love Drake more than anyone, even more than you did Papa."

  Their eyes met.

  "Thank you for being honest with me." She took his hand.

  "You're not going to deny it, are you?" Pepi asked her.

  She shook her head. "No more lies. I have always loved Drake more than anything, more than my own life, but you knew...you, Johnny and Joseph all knew that, but none of you ever minded, did you?"

  Pepi shook his head. "No, because we understood why you loved him so much. We all did, too. Johnny adores Drake, and so do I. We both do
. I was never jealous of your love for Drake. I knew you loved me too, but differently. If I was jealous of anyone, it was Johnny, because he and Drake were closer in age and Johnny always demanded and got all of Drake's attention. I envied Johnny's closeness to Drake."

  "No, never envy that!" Mama shook her head. She took his hand. "It was a curse, a curse put on me perhaps for what I did, for lying to your father, or for loving another woman's husband, even if she was dead."

  "Mama, what are you talking about...what in the name of...?"

  "Never mind...never mind now. It's not the time yet." She sighed. "Work that silly elevator for me, will you dear? I'm going downstairs to get something to eat. I need to take my pills."

  "I'll go with you then," Pepi said.

  "No, I'll take that card. Someone will work it for me on the way up." She stood up.

  Pepi took her elbow and helped her onto the elevator. "Don't talk to anyone, Mother."

  "I know...I know...when is my grandson getting here?"

  "Angelo?"

  "No, the other one...Tony, isn't it?"

  "He'll be here soon, around five our time."

  "Who is meeting him?"

  "Carter is bringing him here, Mama," Pepi told her.

  "Don't worry, go have a sandwich, relax."

  "Someone from the family should be meeting him," she muttered as the elevator door closed.

  Pepi breathed a sigh of relief. A few minutes of peace and quiet. She was acting a bit strange. He hoped it wasn't the beginnings of senility, though she wasn't that old. All this talk about having to say this and that to Johnny and Drake, and then going on about some man losing his wife and her loving him and curses...God, he couldn't deal with her losing her marbles right now.

  He yawned and rubbed his tired eyes. After this was over, he was going to sleep for a week. They would be on tour in Latin America right now if all this hadn't happened. But of course, that had been cancelled. In fact, everything had been cancelled until further notice.

  He had been trying hard not to feel sorry for himself. He tried to concentrate on the fact that Drake was in jail and Johnny was in the hospital, but there was that voice in the back of his head that told him his career was probably in the toilet now. He couldn't help resenting Drake and Johnny just a little for this.