Accidental Mobster by M. M. Cox Page A

“I guess it’s back to the hospital for you.”

    * * * *

    I gingerly touch the new set of stitches in my forehead and realize that my gash will probably take longer to heal now that I have hit my head twice. But at the moment, I don’t care. I am on the phone at the Vigliotti house and am sitting in the office chatting with Reggie, trying to update my friend on the strange turn of events without being too specific concerning what happened to me in Ridley. No one needs to know that my dad crossed the line; I feel that any information might make its way back to Barb Kluwer, who is certainly still working on getting hold of me, if I have judged her correctly.
    â€œOkay, so your parents got in a fight, decided to split for a while, and now you’re staying with your godfather in New Jersey? Man, I don’t know, Danny, that sounds a little crazy!”
    I can understand Reggie’s disbelief. The whole thing is somewhat absurd. “I know it’s weird. But it gets better—I’m staying in one of the most fantastic houses I’ve ever seen, and today they bought me all these nice new clothes. And I’ve got a great big bedroom and bathroom!”
    â€œWow, with all that, you’ll never come back to Ridley!” Reggie is joking, but I can hear the slight strain in his voice.
    â€œOh, I’ll be coming back. Ronnie hinted that I might go to school here for a while, though.”
    â€œReally? That’s no good! We were going to be starters on the wrestling team this year!”
    I can sense Reggie’s disappointment. How would I feel if my best friend abandoned me?
    Yet, I am having a difficult time feeling the same disappointment. Reggie and I have a great friendship, but today has been an eye-opening experience in what living in a wealthy, happy home might be like. Well, perhaps they are not one hundred percent happy, but every family has their problems, right? I keep having this nagging feeling that I should not get too attached to these people or this lifestyle. But for the moment, I am going to let myself enjoy the feeling of being a teenager who, for once, is not forced to worry about buying groceries, paying bills, or playing peacemaker to fighting parents.
    â€œSo, who are these people?” Reggie asks. “What’s a godfather?”
    â€œRonnie said a godfather is supposed to look out for his godchild’s spiritual upbringing. I think it’s a Catholic thing, which I don’t quite understand because I don’t remember my parents going to a Catholic church. Or any church for that matter.”
    â€œYeah, that’s kind of strange. We don’t have that in my church. You said the last name was Vigliotti? That sounds Italian.”
    â€œI guess,” I answer.
    Reggie sucks in a deep breath of air. “Hey! You don’t think they’re in the mob or something, do you?” He sounds excited.
    â€œOh, come on, Reggie! Seriously? You need to cut down on watching so much TV.”
    â€œI don’t watch much. But just think about it—they’re Italian, they live in New Jersey, and he’s your godfather!”
    I roll my eyes, knowing Reggie cannot see my frustration, but I can hear the edge in my voice as I reply. “Knock it off. I told you godfathers were a Catholic thing. And not every Italian is a mobster!”
    â€œYeah, but some of them are!”
    Gino steps into the office doorway, an odd expression on his face, and I smile in silent greeting. “Reggie, I’ve got to go now. I’ll call you again soon.”
    Reggie sighs. “Fine. I’ll talk to you later.”
    â€œTalk to ya later.” I hang up the phone and swivel my chair to face Gino.
    â€œSo,” Gino begins, his voice gruff, “I heard that you made another trip to the hospital today. And that you met some new friends at Joe Saviano’s lot.”
    My body goes rigid. I have no idea how to answer Gino. Does he