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“If everybody likes you, you have a serious problem.”

The shaggy, blonde haired boy stood in front of a door that he didn’t recognize. He weighed 90 pounds soaking wet. Green eyes scanned each crevice of the red mahogany. There were scratches and splintered parts that took away from the perfection. He reached out a tiny, pale hand and let his thumb run over a divot. Six days ago he would have made a comment about how this door looked like a splinter trap. That little 8 year old didn’t exist anymore. This one didn’t want to use words. He didn’t want to trip over his own tongue or spit out goofy statements. What Adam Copeland wanted was his mother. The car door of the man carting him around for almost a week slammed. It took him out of his trance. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the handle of his suitcase. His other hand clasped at the necklace he wore: a silver chain with a sparrow pressed against his navy blue shirt. It was Judy’s. It was the only thing that mattered to him other than photos.  This man informed him in a solemn fashion that they couldn’t find his dad. Adam wasn’t shocked. He was mature for his age. He knew his dad hit the bricks before Adam could even let go of a bottle. That’s why he was standing in front of this house. Supposedly, this man was a long time friend of the Copeland’s. He was the closest thing that Adam had to a family member. George quickly stepped onto the porch and crouched down so he was at eye level with Adam. The young boy stared into the older man’s eyes. His suit was wrinkled and he looked tired. From what Adam could tell he had a tough job. He was the once responsible for finding kids like Adam a home. He couldn’t imagine what that was like. “Adam,” he cleared his throat. “I know this is going to be a tough adjustment, but it’s what’s best for you. From what I can tell, Charlie is a good guy and he’s excited to meet you. He’s going to be able to provide for you very well.” Adam didn’t say anything. He nodded at George and turned back to the door. A knock on George’s end made it open and Adam was staring up at Charlie. His brown hair was slicked back and he wore a button down, black slacks, and shiny brown shoes. His New York accent was heavy and George immediately started talking to him like they were long time friends. “Hey there, kiddo,” Charlie finally said. He put a hand on Adam’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “God, I remember when you were a baby. Your mom used to stop by every once in awhile to watch the Yankees.” He leaned against the doorway.  “You used to pass the fuck out in her arms. You were a good baby.” The swearing didn’t bother him in the slightest. He smiled up at Charlie. Charlie didn’t give him any grief over not talking. He was thankful for that. After a couple more words between George and Charlie, George told Adam goodbye. He assured him he was in a safe place. Adam had to believe him. He didn’t have anywhere else to go. George walked back to his car and drove off. Charlie put a hand on Adam’s back and walked him inside. The house was glamorous. It wasn’t a mansion from the outside but the inside looked like it. It had a foyer and from what he could see of the living room, it was immaculate.  “Follow me, kid. You’ve got your very own room.”  Adam grew up in New York but his mom wasn’t from the area. She was born in Canada so the accent was never something she had. Adam never picked it up himself. To hear Charlie’s New York born and raised way of talking made him smirk. He was a true New Yorker through and through. The Yankee photos and landscapes he had of the city were the cherry on top. The paintings that interested him the most were the darker looking ones. He had an odd theme going on. Some of them were men around poker tables. The others were black, abstract works of art that added a touch of elegance. He noticed paintings of Italy. It was easy to gather that he was proud of his home state and his roots. Even though his decor was sporadic, it all seemed to fit.  Up a grand, cherry wood staircase and a hallway to match, Adam listened to the tapping of Charlie’s shoes against the waxed floor. Everything was so clean. The home reflected his personality along with the flair. He had money. Nobody could have guessed it from the outside and Adam saw that as humble.  Charlie walked to the end of the hall and pushed open a door. Inside was a queen size bed with maroon sheets. The walls were bare other than a couple shelves. A desk was pressed up against the opposite wall and a lamp sat on a nightstand next to his bed.  “It’s not much right now,” Charlie spoke up, his brown shoes finally silent since the room was carpet. “I wanted you to be able to make it your own, kid. This is your home now." Adam looked at him and nodded, his grip on the suitcase still tight. “You don’t talk much, do you?” He cleared his throat, his eyes averting to the dirty sneakers he had on for a couple of seconds. “Not too much,” he finally piped up. The laugh that left Charlie was breathy. It wasn’t mean, spiteful, or angry. He didn’t mock him. “Hey, you don’t know me. I can’t hold that against you,” he said, his hands raised up like he’d just been caught by the police. “Tomorrow, I’m going to take you to buy some new clothes,” he pointed at his suitcase, “you don’t have much going on there. After that we’ll go shopping for some stuff for your room. I’m going to take care of you like you’re my own flesh and blood, kapeesh?” Adam finally looked up at him and nodded, “yes sir.” Charlie shook his head and knelt down again. “None of the sir bullshit, Adam. Call me Charlie. Call me dad. Whatever floats your boat.” Adam nodded again, this time slowly. Charlie had a warm demeanor. He had charisma and charm. “You’re apart of the family now, kid. You’re apart of something bigger than you’ll ever be able to understand,” Charlie said with a sly smile. “You’ll get it when you’re older. You’re going to be fitting in like a Capito in no time.”  The young boy swallowed hard. He didn’t like the sound of being called Adam Capito. It didn’t sound right. The look on his face must have given something away because Charlie cleared the air. “Don’t worry about the name either. Your mom was a hell of a woman and I’m a big family guy. I’d never make you change your last name. You’re that lady’s son through and through. You’re going to be like a Capito but you’ve got that Copeland blood. That get up and get at ‘em blood.”  Adam let out a sigh of relief.  Charlie messed his hair up and pointed over to the dresser across from his bed. “I’ll leave you to unpack your stuff, kid. After you’re done I’ll give you a tour of the house. Francesca-she’s the cook-is making some chicken dish. She’s a great cook, I promise. I had her make burgers and french fries just in case the chicken doesn’t sit well with you.” Adam smiled at him and set his suitcase on the bed. He gripped at the necklace again and before Charlie could walk out he cleared his throat. “Hey,uh,Charlie?”  The man turned and raised his eyebrows. “Thank you...for uh...taking me in.” Charlie shot him that same sly smile from earlier. “Don’t worry about it, kid. I’d do anything for Judy,” he tapped his fingers on the door frame. “Like I said, you’re family now. You’re going to live life like a Capito.” Charlie vanished and Adam listened to his footsteps disappear down the hallway. He could tell that he was apart of something bigger now. Maybe it was the money and the home. It could have been Charlie’s personality. There was something beyond what he saw that Adam knew he was getting into. What he couldn’t have prepared for was that he was now the son of a mafia boss.  From the second Adam stepped past that mahogany door at the ripe, young age of 8 years old, he was going to be bred to fit the mafia mold. He was going to be raised like a Capito and even though that meant instilling the importance of family and a very comfortable lifestyle...that also meant lying, cheating, deceiving, and blood. 

@wvckedlittleblvss

Alexis....come see me, please. Come and say goodbye to me before I take off to this place. ‘Cause I’m fuckin’ scared, and you’re what I need right now.