#john cappelletti

Any further thoughts flew from his mind as they, finally, pulled up to the iron gate, the driver speaking to the intercom. A piercing screech sounded as the gates squeaked open allowing the car to pull in and around the fountain in the courtyard, to park. The back doors opened and Colson, along with his crew, filed out and up the stairs where the double doors opened for them.

“Mr. Romano.” An older man said, dressed in a black suit with graying brown hair. Colson glanced at him as they entered, not really focusing on him. His high was wearing off as his anxiety kicked into overdrive. Rubbing his hands together as the man led them through the foyer to a side room, he said, “Luca. How is everyone feeling today?”

“As they do at every meeting, Signore. Old, miserable, bitter, and upset.” Luca said. A brief smirk tugged at Colson’s lips as Luca held open the door to let Colson and his men in. Colson hated bringing his personal crew with him to meet with the Dons and the family. Most of his organization and general security were the Italian-born and bred sons, but his most loyal were three gangsters he picked up from the States and happened to consist of two black men. Colson despised their initial reaction, seeing color before loyalty, and struggled to keep his feelings about it under wraps, especially at meetings. Every time there was a threat and there was a meeting, Colson only trusted those three men to escort him and no one else.

Through all the years of his life that he gave to the Mafia, he’d learned to savor loyalty, having seen the use in it. While visiting family in New York, he was put under the protection of the three men that stood behind him now. After an attempt on his life, those men proved their value and Colson refused to have any other security to join his inner circle. While the Dons and the family disagreed, the only reason Colson’s request was allowed was because of his best friend; JP ‘Rook’ Cappelletti, the son and heir apparent of the XX Mob. However Rook wasn't the sole reason it was allowed, but the reason it was still allowed. It was Colson’s father and uncle, along with Rook’s father, who helped Colson’s grandfather form and create what the XX Mob was to this day. When Colson’s uncle, Aureliano, died, it was his last remaining ally among the elders and the Dons, leaving Rook as his sole lifeline to his birthright.

From his teenage years, it was a long believed secret rumor that Colson would be excommunicated when his kin died, as he had caused an enormous amount of trouble for the mob. But once Colson and Rook formed a closer friendship, Colson was given a second chance as the Dons and the family saw he had begun to change.

When a second door opened to reveal the elders on their usual pedestals, Colson sighed and walked in, up to their seats and bowed as his men filed into their box. Rook smirked at Colson, both him and his father sitting below the elders, trying to ease his anxiety, while his father gave Colson an acknowledged nod, silently telling him to take his seat. Colson turned and took the foremost seat, sitting back and, crossing a leg over his knee, resisted the urge to punch out the Don next to them, who was eyeing Slim and AJ with a semi look of disgust. His blue eyes burned with the urge, but once John Sr. began to speak, his anxiety spiked, high, and his hand twitched.

“Is everyone here? Good.” John started. Colson watched Rook lean back, looking around his father to the empty seat on his left, and smirked. Colson wasn’t sure who was meant to be sitting there, as it was always Rook and John. As he sat wondering, his question was soon answered as John continued speaking, “I would like to thank the Dons for coming on such short notice. The reason I’ve called you here today is-”

John was interrupted as the doors burst open and everyone turned to look as a dark, curly-haired, young woman blew in, two flunkies by her side. With a chipper smile on her lips and a mischievous twinkle sparkling in the two emeralds that sat on her face, she made her way before John and dipped into a brief curtsy, as did the flunkies. Rook smirked and watched her, as did Colson. John, however, was less than amused.

“Atta,” John said. The woman, Atta, looked up at him, still smiling despite the man’s tone, and replied, “Father.”

Leaving her spot, she climbed the short stairs to take the vacant seat on his left. After leaning over to place a quick kiss on John’s cheek, Atta said, “I’m sorry I’m late, Father. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything?”

Murmurs rippled among the Dons, as her gaze swept around the room, of ‘No. Not at all’s, while they looked away from her, with respect. Atta smirked and sat back, crossing her jean-clad legs and folding her hands in her lap.

While John gave a soft grunt of disapproval, he still continued speaking, brushing past the interruption. As John spoke, Colson studied the second Cappelletti sibling. Though her and Rook were twins, it made sense that they would both be present, but in the same token, Colson couldn’t recall her being at other meetings he attended and was intrigued to see her there. Atta froze her face and emotions to a pleased yet neutral look. She despised being called into meetings, though it didn’t happen often. JP was the heir apparent and would take their father’s place once he died, and John never seemed too keen to involve his only daughter in the family affairs, not that Atta minded.

She was in charge of running the Cappelletti General Store, taking over a few years back when their mother got sick. It was a position she took to like a duck to water and was involved enough in the family affairs. Relations and affiliates of the Dons, sometimes the Dons themselves on occasion, visited the shop on a semi-frequent as a way to throw the cops off their trail. Atta’s mother did everything in her power to prove her store was a legitimate business and the only reason these mobsters came to her store was because of her husband. While it seemed like a shaky story, as the police kept surveillance on the shop for a month, John was adamant that none of the mob’s business be taken near the store, wanting to give his wife something of her own. Once it was well established the store had no real involvement with the mob, it was left to those same deceivers, though they protected it with their lives. They would come in with a message or an order that Atta passed to the elders and her father. As the daughter of John Sr., by rights, she was the Princess of the XX. She was more well known on her small island of Sicily, still known well enough on the mainland, and that was enough for her.

“-Cannot sit idly by while these Germans push in on our territory. I put it to this council, in the hands of the Dons; Someone must remove this German threat before they bring the AISE down on us all.” John’s speech brought her back and she started listening again.

“Not to split hairs, Don Cappelletti. But wasn’t Don Romano the cause for this rivalry?” One of the Dons stated. All eyes turned to Colson’s box, while Colson glared at the old man. “With his pathetic attempt to charm Mr. Muller’s daughter, before his father’s death, was the start, was it not?”

Colson opened his mouth to respond, but someone spoke before he could. “A shrewd observation, Don Moretti. But if you remember correctly, other things were put into motion that affected the Germans, well before Don Romano made his appearance. Mr. Muller saw Colson’s showing as the last straw, even though Colson had not taken Vittorio’s role as Don Romano.” Colson’s head whipped around at the first sound of her voice and continued to stare in shock as Atta came to his defense.

Many of the boxes began to buzz with upset. While Atta was respected as the family’s only daughter, many of the old men believed there was no place for women in Mafia business, save for being arm and eye candy, housewives, and mothers. This being one of the first times that Atta spoke up in a meeting, there was a bigger upheaval for the simple fact that they disliked Colson and had plans for their own sons to take over his territory.

Rook smirked and looked down as he attempted to suppress a snicker. Atta heard the faint snort and her lips twitched upward in a smirk of her own. John glanced at her and smiled, turning to Don Moretti and held up his hands to calm the Dons as he said, “Do not be upset by my daughter’s words. Especially when she speaks the truth. As I recall, it was your grandson, Adriano, who was sent to America to take out a hit and botched it. That was when Mr. Muller put us on his radar. Having taken out one of his men by mistake.”

Don Moretti grumbled and mumbled as he looked away in shame of the truth. John cast a glance to Colson, with a small smile, and said, “That is why I said this task is in your collective hands instead of singling Don Romano out; As it was not his fault.”

The grumbles of old men soon died down and John spoke again, “Discuss this matter with your families and each other. I want to hear names at our next meeting at the end of the week. Now, the other reason for this meeting and the reason for my daughter’s presence…”

Atta flinched and Colson saw her face twitch. Rook glanced at his sister and watched as she gripped her own hands so tightly, she white-knuckled. John reached over to place a gentle hand on hers and said, “Atta turns 26 this next week, on the 13th. I believe it is high time she was married and settled down. Many of you have expressed interest in my daughter’s hand. Each family will produce a suitor for my daughter at her party. From there, she will choose her husband.”

“You are letting her choose, John Paul? She could draw it out and never choose!” One of the elders called in a gravelly voice. “We’ve never given daughters free choice. You shall choose her husband.”

“Don Greco. We all value your input as the elders. But our children were born into a much different age. They have seen much in their young lives. My daughter will make her own choice. By her next birthday, she will be married.” John said, announcing the last bit to the room in a firm and final tone. Atta glanced at her father and gritted her teeth before standing and walking out in a deafening silence.

~

As the meeting went on without her, Atta hung around the gardens, finishing one of her last joints. As the smoke trailed from the burnt orange end, she placed a delivery order to restock as she made her way back to the manor. When she reached the porch, she set up shop on the swing bench to finish the roach.

Just as she snubbed it out with the toe of her boot, the doors flew open, causing her to look up. Colson walked out, rubbing his hands over his face and muttering. With a muffled groan, he dropped his hands and sighed, still muttering. Once he finally turned to begin pacing, he noticed Atta off to the side and gave her nothing more than a cursory glance as he paced, evenly, trying to quell his anxiety and his anger.

Atta watched him for a moment as she patted herself down to find her lighter and last joint. Giving it a few good puffs to get it nice and lit, Atta stood and went to Colson, offering it to him once he paced back to her. He accepted it and took a large hit, trying to allow as much of it to soak in as he could before he let it go, blowing out a slow line of smoke. Colson closed his eyes with a sigh as he took another hit. It made Atta giggle.

“You seem a lot jumpier than you used to be.” She teased gently. Colson opened his eyes and gave her a look. The look only made Atta smirk as she leaned on the hands against the brick wall. Colson took another hit before handing it back as he said, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Atta said, softly, taking the joint. As Colson passed to walk back inside, Atta turned, quickly, and caught his hand. Colson turned and his expression softened as he saw a small, flirtatious smirk spread across her face while she stepped closer and looked up at him. “You should come by the shop sometime. I’m closing all this week. Could use the company.”

Her fingers played with his in the sweet, innocent way she did when they were younger. There had always been a mutual attraction between them, but Atta had to be seen with someone who was favorable to the family and Colson was a very far cry from that. So, they kept their friendship as a way to still at least be able to be around each other.

With a chuckle, Colson said, “Yeah. And what happens if John or one of the Dons walks in? Sees us alone together. They’re already gunning for me.”

“Gunning for the Gunner? They must have a death wish.” Atta teased with a chuckle as she took a small step closer to close the already small gap between them. She brought her joint to her lips and inhaled slowly. Colson smirked and plucked the joint from her lips and said, “You’re cute.”

Atta blew out the smoke as he took a hit and held it in for a moment as he said, “You must have a death wish for me. John would kill me if he found out. Damaging his precious princess’s reputation.”

Atta laughed as Colson finally let out the smoke, then she said, “Please. I damage it on my own. 25, living alone. No husband, no fiance. The family already treats me like I’m living in sin.” Atta scoffed and rolled her eyes as she took the joint back. She looked up at Colson and asked, “So, will you come see me tomorrow night?”

Waiting for his response, Atta took another drag as Colson took a step back, taking the joint from her as she offered it. After taking a final drag and handing it back, Colson said, “Sure.”

Atta’s face began to light up, but skidded to a halt and dropped as Colson, who seemed to take her smile, said, “If Rook is there.” He snickered as Atta sucker-punched his shoulder and said, “Not funny.”

“I thought it was.” He said with a small shrug and a smirk. Colson chuckled and took a step closer to bend down and kiss her cheek. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Atta watched him walk back inside and down the hall with a sigh. She kicked a chip of brink before finishing the joint and stamping it out before going in as well to find her friends. Colson approached his gang and smiled when he saw Rook turn. The men chuckled and clapped hands before Rook said, “Hey, Colson, my dad was asking for you. He wants to see you before you leave.”

Scrunching up his face, slightly confused, Colson asked, “Did he say why?” Rook smirked and said, “It’s nothing bad, bro. Promise. But don’t keep him waiting.

Colson sighed, sightly, calling to his men to hang tight, he then turned to find his way through the mess of halls to get to John’s office, no doubt that’s where he would be waiting. Two knocks on the door, Colson prayed that his high set in soon, as he felt the pricklings of anxiety form again.

“Entra.” The command came, slightly muffled behind the heavy oak door. Colson pushed the door open and walked in, closing the door behind him. When Colson turned, he saw John’s back facing him as John flipped through folders and papers, standing in front of a filing cabinet.

“You wanted to see me, John?” Colson said, taking a few steps to the center of the room and clasping his hands behind his back. John turned, folders still in hand, and smiled at him before closing the drawers.

“Colson. Sí, Sí, come in.” John said, waving the young man over. Colson approached John’s desk but didn’t move to sit down until invited. John set his papers and folders down on his desk and grabbed two crystal glasses and a decanter of scotch. Filling the glasses, he held one out to Colson, inquiring, “You still drink scotch?”

Colson smirked and nodded, accepting the drink. “Yes, sir. I do.” Colson said. Both men chuckled and clinked glasses in a cheers. John quickly downed the amber liquid and refilled his glass before indicating the chair in front of Colson, saying, “Please. Sit.”

Colson sipped the scotch as he sat down. Taking another sip, Colson began to choke and sputter on it, caught off guard when John said, “About the wedding…”

Colson coughed and set the glass down, wiping his face as John looked up in confusion and watched him. Once Colson was able to pull himself together, he looked at John and said “Uhm the wedding? Atta’s?”

John chuckled and said, “Not to you, dear boy. That’s why I’ve called you here.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t understand,” Colson said. John gave a heavy sigh as he continued to speak and look over papers.

“Colson, our families are very close. Aureliano and Vittorio were like brothers to me. It pained me when the elders asked that I step in as head of this family instead of you. I think of you as my own son.” John finally looked up at him and continued, “When I asked that each family produce a son as a suitor for my daughter...Whom did you expect to name? Yourself?”

“Well, I-Yes?” Colson answered, still confused as to why he had been called there. John smiled and nodded, looking back down at his papers.

“As I expected. You are the only Romano son left. It is the logical choice and I understand that.” John said. “But you must understand when I say, that you cannot present yourself, nor any of your men, as a prospect for Atta. The Romano family will not have a suitor.”

Colson blinked in surprise and questioned, “Sir?”

John looked up, watching Colson for a moment then sighed and said, “You know as well as I do; The Dons are not overly fond of you or your choice of men. If I were even to entertain the notion that I would allow Atta to consider you, there would be an uproar. You have your seat on this council because your grandfather made XX what it is today.”

“I’m aware of my lineage and birthright,” Colson said, with blatant disdain as obvious by his lip curling in a sneer. John smirked and said, “I have no intention of removing you from your position, Colson. But one I am gone, if JP cannot keep the Dons and elders happy...He will have no choice but to remove you once they call a vote.”

Colson sighed and sat back, refusing to admit defeat, but also at a loss. “Then, what the fuck am I supposed to do here, John?” He asked, throwing a hand up. John stood, as did Colson. He went to the young, blonde Don and clapped a hand on his back, steering him to the door.

“Nothing. Right now, at least. The Dons know of your friendship with my children. They will expect you to offer yourself for Atta’s hand. Surprise them all, Richard.” John said. Colson couldn’t help the twitch that took over his face at the use of his first name, but he knew John only used it to drive home a point. As the door opened, Colson sighed and nodded, turning to John and shaking his hand.

“Yes, Sir.” He said. “Was there anything else?”

John chuckled and said, “Don’t start a fight at her party. We both know it won’t be me or the Dons that will punish you for it.”

Colson smirked, recalling the day when a very young Colson and Rook started a fight at Atta’s 13th birthday. Both boys left with black eyes and scars from Atta’s ring. He nodded and walked out, making his way back through the maze of halls to the foyer where only Rook and Colson’s men were left.

He said his goodbyes to Rook and the group walked out the front doors and made their way down the stairs. Light, lyrical laughter met his ears and he looked up to see Atta and her friends getting into their car. Colson watched as her curls bounced and shone in the sun as she turned to talk to one of the girls; Carina was her name if Colson remembered correctly. Atta’s eyes flickered up to Colson and her smile widened a touch before the car door opened and she looked away, thanking the valet that held her door open. She slipped him a few bills before climbing into the SUV.

As Atta’s car drove off, Colson made his way down the stairs, a few steps before his car, when a young man stepped in front of him, a smug look on his face and dressed to kill. Colson repressed the urge to sneer at him. Or punch him out. He showed an extreme amount of self-control as the man began to speak.

“Young Romano. Good to see you again.” He said, briefly touching Colson’s shoulder.

“Enzio d’Este...Good to see you as well.” Colson said, half a second away from rolling his eyes at the smug bastard. Enzio chuckled and continued, “I hope you haven’t gotten too many hopes up?”

Raising an eyebrow, lazily, Colson offered, “About what, exactly?”

“Atta choosing you,” Enzio said. “I know you, her, and Rook are i tre moschettieri, but I’m a d’Este. No woman can resist a d’Este. Everyone knows that.”

Colson chuckled and shifted. “d’Este...If she chooses you? I respect her and her choices...Enough to shoot you after everyone is gone. No woman needs to see that mess.” He said. His smile dropped as he added, “Even if she does choose you, Enzio...If I find out you’ve hurt her, or you’re the reason she cries, you’ll find yourself at the bottom of the Tyrrhenian wearing a pair of cement Mary Janes with a matching hat...Am I in any way unclear, d’Este?”

Enzio chuckled and stuck a cigarette between his lips and lit it before he said, with a gesture to Colson, “You have a good night, Don Romano.” With almost an even bigger ego than before and even more smug, Enzio walked away, back to his own family as they piled in their cars and left. Colson groaned softly and got into the backseat of his own SUV, his buddy, Slim, had waited for him to get in before sliding in next to him as the door closed.

“The fuck did that smug asshole want?” Another man from the back asked, scratching at his beard as he sat forward. Colson glanced at him and chuckled.

“Eazy, Baze.” He said to the man. Baze had a run-in or two with the d’Estes and wasn’t fond of the eldest son, Enzio, at all. “He’s just trying to rattle us so we fuck up and I lose my power.”

Baze scoffed and sat back, unconvinced. The other man beside him, AJ, nudged Colson and said, “What’d John want?”

Colson glanced at him and sighed. “He told me I’m not to name myself or any of you for Atta. He basically forbade me from marrying her.” He said. The car suddenly went silent as the rest of them were in shock. While they knew Colson would offer himself as he was the only Romano left, save his daughter, they all thought it would be a sure thing and John would be overjoyed to welcome him to the family. But as Colson explained the nature of their conversation, they understood and dropped the subject.

~

Next Chapter

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