Truths and Chains – Chapter Five

NOT EDITED

Vito smoothed his hands down the button-up he’d artfully stolen from Tito’s closet before nodding toward his brother. Tito offered one of his annoyingly reassuring smiles and knocked on the door. He hoped for Malik. Desperately hoped for Malik. Out of the two men, Malik had always been the softer-sided one, and Vito needed that softer side. If Luca came out of the gate even mildly annoyed by Vito’s presence, he was worried about what would come out of his own mouth before he could bite it back.

But it was the giant who answered the door. He stared at Vito as he nodded over his shoulder, inviting them in. Or, inviting Tito in. He stopped Vito with a hand on his chest. “You sober?”

“I promise,” Vito whispered.

Luca laid his hands on Vito’s cheeks, tilting his head up for a better look into his eyes. Or his soul. Either was kind of unnerving and equally possible. Whichever he searched, he must have found the proof of sobriety he’d been searching for, because he pulled Vito into a tight hug, a protective hand on the back of his head. “I’m sorry I kicked you out last time. Jamal never woulda done that to me. Ever.”

Vito wrapped his arms around his uncle, the back of his shirt twisted between his fingers. “I deserved it.”

“What you deserved was help.”

“I didn’t want help. You always did. It was different for you.”

“Well, I dunno about that.” Luca pulled away. “I only agreed to get sober the first time because Jamal threatened to lock Malik away like Rapunzel — his words, not mine. Fuck if I know what the hell the story is.” Vito chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “In my experience, most people who choose to get sober do it after hitting some sort of turning point. For some people, that’s realizing they’re officially at rock bottom, but that’s not always the case. For me, it was the potential of losing Malik and Jamal. After they got to the Lucchese house, I… I don’t know, they showed me a life I didn’t know was possible. A joy I didn’t know even existed anymore. The idea of losing that so I could keep doing drugs was horrifying.”

“But you still…” Vito cleared his throat. “I don’t wanna be an asshole. I’m not trying to be an asshole. But you still, y’know?”

“Relapsed?” Luca asked.

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes. Not for a while,” Luca said simply, offering a little shrug of his shoulders. “Jamal says it isn’t a failure, not of me and not of my recovery. It’s just an expected part of it all. Common. Over eighty-percent of people relapse in the first year.”

“I don’t know if that’s encouraging or alarming.”

“It’s okay for it to be both,” Luca said. He nodded toward the house. “C’mon, your uncle’s stress baking some brownies. You in?”

“Totally in. God, out here talkin’ about my fuckin’ feelings instead of just telling me there are brownies inside? Fuckin’ lame, Uncle L.”

Luca chuckled, rolling his eyes as Vito walked past him. He closed the door, leaning back against it as Vito kicked off his riding boots. “I get you, Vito. Part of you, anyway. If you need to talk and eat brownies? I’m here. Anytime of day or night, I’m here. Okay?”

Vito offered a smile, biting back the usual urge to tell him to go fuck himself for daring to care about him. “Okay.” He cleared his throat. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo.” Luca smiled. “Now let’s go tell your uncle his brownies are fine and totally don’t taste like the batch he burnt before this one. Yeah?”

“Deal.”

***

Though Jamal often flew between the San Diego Pitman Estate and Los Angeles, Vito had practically begged Tito to drive it instead, and his brother had agreed with little protest. None, actually, if Vito were being honest. The man didn’t protest much when it came to his little brother, and Vito was unfortunately incredibly aware of it. The two-ish hour drive had been nice. He hadn’t even minded getting stuck in traffic and delaying their arrival a bit. He hadn’t been stuck in traffic for over six months. It felt a little stupid, but it almost made him feel normal. Normal was good. Probably.

“Shit. What if he’s back in Arizona with Gabby and the kids?” Vito asked as soon as Tito pulled into the long driveway.

Tito chuckled. “I let him know you were out and that you wanted to see him. He’s here.”

“Good. That’s good. Smart. That you checked, I mean.”

Tito reached across the center console to squeeze Vito’s knee. “Jamal has never once been upset with you, Vi. Not for stealing the car, not for decking me instead of behaving at the charity event, not for getting high, not for going to rehab. None of it. He’s not mad at you. He’s always just been… worried. He’s always just wanted you to be okay.”

“I said a lotta shit I shouldn’t have. About him not being our dad and us not being Pitmans.”

“Not to him.”

“You didn’t tell him?”

“No. I have no reason to be a tattletale, Vi.” As per usual, Tito did a damn good job of always reminding Vito just how much better of a brother he was than Vito could ever even pretend to be. “We can sit here in the car for as long as you need to. We’ll go in whenever you’re ready, and not a moment sooner.”

Vito allowed hismelf to take Tito up on that offer for all of fifteen seconds before climbing out of the car. He headed up to the front door and opened it. “JP? The prodigal son has returned.”

Tito snorted. “Wow, that’s a big word for Elmo.”

“Fuck you,” Vito said, unable to stop himself from laughing as he shoved Tito back a step.

Jamal came down the right staircase, dressed in jeans and a plain white t-shirt. He’d only been ‘retired’ for a year or so—Vito didn’t really keep track of time in any meaningful way—and it was still weird as hell to see the man dressed in anything other than an expensive black suit. “You know that’s from the Bible, don’t you?” he asked.

“What? Prodigal son?”

“Mmhmm.”

Vito shrugged. “Nah, House MD, dude. He calls the Australian guy that.”

“Ah, of course. I should have known.” Jamal pulled Vito into a hug without needing to intensely analyze him like Luca had needed to. For that, Vito was thankful. He wasn’t sure he could handle Jamal’s scrutiny today too. “Missed you, kiddo,” Jamal said, his voice soft.

“Missed you too, JP,” Vito whispered, arms wrapped tightly around the elderly man. “I’m sorry about the charity stuff.”

“You were going through a lot, kiddo. And believe me, you could’ve done worse.”

“Maybe. But still.” Vito cleared his throat as he pulled away, absnetmindedly poking Jamal in the arm. “Hey, umm… speaking of. Mickey’s kid.”

“Elias?”

“Sure. I don’t fuckin’ know his name, dude. I met him at the charity thing.”

“Elias, yes,” Jamal confirmed. “What about him?”

“I, uh, I was kind of a dick to him. Less than I was to, like… you and Luca and Tito and Frank, but still a dick. You think you could, like… set up or meeting or something with him? He just wanted to talk to me about his dad, a-and if I met one of Mom’s friends, I know I’d want the same.”

“Well, he doesn’t currently attend the charity events, uh… anymore. But—”

“But it’s his dad’s charity.”

“Yes, but he and his stepparents had a falling out of sorts a month or two ago, and he doesn’t go to the events now. But if you’re going back to Kansas after this?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s where he lives. I’m sure I could set you up for coffee or something. I know he’d love to see what all you know about Mickey. Hear any stories you have.” A pause. “Well, not any story. As far as Elias knows, that MC was just a group of guys who liked to ride motorcycles, you hear me?”

“Yeah, I hear ya. No crime stories.”

Jamal nodded. “I’ll give him a call after you head out and see if he’s in the mood for people. If he is, I’ll send you a text. Sound good?”

“Perfect,” Vito said with a little nod.

“If you’ve got time before you leave, we could play a round of poker? Maybe pool, see how good your skills are after six months away from bars?”

“Fuck, yeah, old man. Loser plays Tito so he’s got a chance at winning.”

Tito scoffed. “Rude.”

“You love me.”

“Un-fucking-fortunately.” Tito shoved his brother a step forward. “Lead the way, dickhead.”

***

Elias’s much-needed Friday ‘vacation’ had begun with an early morning call for a dog hit by a car, a cat shot by a neighbor’s kid with a BB gun, and an emergency canine spay following the diagnosis of pyometra. The two dogs were doing well, but the cat’s future was still a bit uncertain, though he was still optimistic about her. She had come through surgery well and woken up from anesthesia without any real concerns. If she was still able to walk after recovery, he’d be over the moon, but he didn’t have high hopes for that. The owners had already made it clear they wouldn’t care for a paralyzed cat. Elias hoped he could talk them into surrendering her if it came down to it, and he expected that it would.

After one final vital check, Elias made his way to his office and dropped into his desk chair with a sigh, body sinking into the temporary comfort of much-needed support. Head tilted back against the headrest, he closed his eyes, giving himself a moment to simply exist and breathe before he dealt with whatever onslaught of bullshit would inevitably be waiting for him on his phone. For the last two months, between his ex, his ex’s friends, and his parents, it had been neverending. Throw in the occasional hatemail from people angry that veterinary services cost money or that he hadn’t been able to save the animal they’d been denying vet care to for weeks before finally coming in, and there wasn’t really much of a break from any of it.

Except for three emergency surgeries back-to-back. He really couldn’t believe he was at a point in his life where he had to be thankful for animal-related emergencies on the one day off he’d given himself in months, because at least it had given him several hours away from his phone, without any possible temptation to look at it and read whatever messages would be waiting on his lock screen.

With a heavy exhale, Elias lifted his head and grabbed his phone from the desk. For now, he scrolled past the notifications of missed calls, voicemails, and text messages from unknown numbers, as well as the ones from his parents. He had one text from JJ, his one and only friend left in this world, asking if he needed anything for groceries, and one text from Jamal Pitman, asking if he was available for a phone call.

He raised a brow. What could Jamal Pitman possibly need that he was texting Elias for it? Sure, he had talked to the man at most of the charity events that were held in his dad’s honor, and before his dad’s death, Jamal had been at every single one of them, but he’d never really spoken to him outside of that. That seemed… worrisome.

He opened JJ’s text first.

Elias: Sorry, I just got out of surgery. I’m okay on everything. Thank you ❤

He backed out of their text thread and opened Jamal’s. He stared at it for damn near an eternity before finally sending back a simple, ‘I’m available’.

It took all of a whopping five seconds for Jamal to call him. Elias blew out a breath, slid his thumb across the bottom of his screen, and pressed his phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Elias, kiddo, how are you doing?”

“I’m… okay. Just got out of surgery. Umm, how… are you?”

Jamal chuckled. “I’m all right, thank you. Say, I heard through the grapevine that you met one of my boys a few months back. Do you happen to remember a tall Italian at your father’s event? I’m told he punched a second Italian in the face, which probably made him rather memorable.”

Elias snorted. “Yeah, Vitelli.”

“Vitelli,” Jamal echoed. “Right. Yes. Well, uh, Vitelli just left my house and he was hoping that you’d be willing to let him take you out for coffee or a beer or something. He’d like to apologize for the way he turned up to the event, and he’d like to let you ask some questions about your dad.”

“He would?”

“If you’d be so inclined to put up with him for an hour or two.”

Elias couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, come on. He doesn’t seem that bad.”

“Well, you clearly aren’t on the same list he keeps me on.”

“Oh? And what list is that?”

“Something to the effect of, ‘my list of people to annoy for the rest of eternity’.”

Elias snorted. “I’ll be sure to watch out for that. I’m going to be here at the clinic for a while. He’s welcome to bring coffee here, if he’d like. Otherwise, I’ll probably be more available for locations outside of the office tomorrow.”

“Perfect. I’ll send you his number and you two can work it out.” A pause. “He can be a bit abrasive sometimes, but he’s a good boy. Man.” Jamal chuckled. “But he’ll always be my boy. Your father was great with him. Asking Michael to watch after him and teach him something—anything—other than how to be a pain in the ass is one of the best decisions I ever made. I… I only wish you had both had more time with him. With your dad, I mean.”

“Me too, Jamal,” Elias said after a moment. He ran the heel of his palm under his eye, clearing his throat. “Since I’m agreeing to meet him, I would like to know his actual name, though.”

“Pardon?”

“You hesitated when I said his name was Vitelli. So what’s his actual name?”

“Vito,” Jamal said after a moment.

Elias’s heart stuttered in his chest. “Like, Minetti? So the brother he punched was Tito fucking Minetti? And you didn’t think to, like, lead with that?”

“I didn’t know he had given you a fake name. I’m not sure I would have agreed to call you if I had,” Jamal said. “He isn’t… He’s not the monster the media tries to paint him as. Do you really think your father would’ve spent any time with him if he was? Do you think his brother would be running tattoo shops if he was the monster they try to make him out to be?”

“I… honestly don’t know what I think,” Elias said. “I just know I wouldn’t usually be inclined to pal around with a Minetti.”

“If his real name changes things for you, that’s all right. I can simply tell him you’re busy. It sounds like you have your hands full right now anyway, so it wouldn’t be much of a lie.”

“He said my dad was his best friend,” Elias said after a moment. “Is that part true?”

“Like two peas in a pod. There were times I practically had to drag Vito out of that damn shop to get him back home in time for bed. Michael taught him everything there is to know about a bike, about a car, about a truck. Boy can’t tell you his left from his right, but he sure could rebuild an engine from the ground up. Your daddy taught him all that, bonding over grease and oil the way most bond over sports or beer. I… To be honest with you, Elias, I’m not sure Vito would’ve made it to adulthood without your dad.” Jamal cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to say that as a way to guilt you into meeting with him. Whatever you say about him goes, no further questions asked. If you want to talk with him, great. If you don’t, great. I’ll relay the message either way.”

Since his dad’s death, there hadn’t been many people Elias was ‘allowed’ to talk to about anything, much less about his father. Supposed Minetti Horror Twin or not, it seemed almost criminal to pass up the opportunity. Though Vito had been ‘Vitelli’ the night they’d spent together, he’d still been… human. Vulnerable. Frankly, no matter what the hell his name was, spending an hour or two drinking coffee and chatting about his dad couldn’t be worse than any of the time he’d spent with his ex, or the time he’d spent trying to avoid him. And Jamal was probably right. His dad wouldn’t have spent his time being best friends with someone like the media’s version of Vito Minetti.

“A… a friend of my dad’s deserves a chance no matter his name. Send me his number,” Elias finally decided.

“Wonderful,” Jamal whispered. “I’ll send that to you, then. You’ll want to remind him you’re Mickey’s kid. The boy’s fucking atrocious with names.”

Elias chuckled. “I’ll be sure to do that. Thanks, Jamal.”

“No problem. Thank you for being willing to talk with him. He needs to talk about Mickey. Desperately. But he doesn’t feel like he can to the rest of us. Even a little chat with you could benefit him greatly, and I just… I appreciate it, is all.”

“I could definitely use someone to talk to about him too, so it’s not entirely unselfish.”

Jamal’s laugh was soft and light. “That’s okay. I hope it benefits you both, then. I’ll, uh, I’ll also send you Tito’s number, in case Vito gets a bit too… out of hand. You can text Tito to come pick him up, and he will, no questions asked. Okay?”

“Concerning, but good to know.” Elias swung his chair side to side, clearing his throat. “Is he still high?”

“He’s trying not to be,” Jamal said after a moment. “He just got out of rehab. Don’t tell him I told you that. I’m telling you so you can be prepared. I don’t know what his current coping mechanisms are like. I only just saw the boy for the first time in six months. He seemed… well. He seemed good. But ‘seems’ and ‘is’ are two different things, you know?”

“All too well,” Elias confirmed. “Thanks for the heads-up. It stays between you and me, Pitman. I promise.”

“Thank you. I’ll, uh, I’ll let him know to expect a text from you. They’ll be getting on the plane soon, and they’ll be in Kansas in about three hours, give or take a few. Thank you again, Elias. For being willing to look past the media and talk with him.”

“You’re welcome, Jamal. I’ll let you know if he behaves himself.”

Jamal chuckled. “Sounds like a plan, kiddo.”

---

Enjoying the story? Consider dropping a comment or a like down below!!

---