Sexting the Don: An Age Gap, Mafia Romance (Silver Fox Daddies)

“What the hell are you two talking about?”

My gut sinks as I spin around on my toes to see the last person I want to lay eyes on.

My father is standing at the entrance to the kitchen, a small bottle of cheap whiskey in his hand, stains on his shirt from God knows what. He’s unsteady, his hand firmly on the doorframe to balance himself. While Mom and I are just getting up, starting our day, Jimmy’s finishing one of his usual nights on the town, no doubt getting hammered with his usual pack of lowlifes.

“None of your business.” My words shoot out like razor blades. I’m not in the mood for his shit, not even a little.

“You used my fucking name.” He pushes off the door frame and steps over, looking on the verge of tripping over his feet. “I’d say that makes it my business.”

His beady, bloodshot eyes flick to the money in Mom’s hand.

Fuck.

He lifts a finger. Even from across the kitchen, I can see grime caked under his fingernail.

“What is that?”

“Money,” I said. “I can understand why you’d be confused. The only time you see it is when you’re giving it away to people you owe it to, not like you ever earn any for yourself.”

His eyes flash with anger. “Not another word unless I ask for it, missy.” Jimmy turns his attention back to Mom. “Florence, what’s that?”

“It’s just some cash.” Mom’s an amazing person, but a good liar she most certainly is not.

I need to jump in. My brain kicks into overdrive as I prepare to spin up a quick tale of bullshit, one of the few worthwhile skills Jimmy passed on to me.

“It’s mine,” I said. “Money I’ve been saving. You know, from the reputable job I work?”

He pauses, his alcohol-fried neurons trying desperately to keep up and process the conversation.

“I can see that it’s money. But why the hell are you giving it to your mother?”

Mom opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off before she can.

“Well, I was going to tell you later, but I’m leaving.”

Jimmy cocks his head to the side. “Leaving?”

“Yeah, leaving.” I nod toward the cash. “That’s enough for the mortgage for the next couple of months. I didn’t want to screw you over when I move out. I know you’ve been counting on my income for expenses, so I wanted to help out one last time.”

Jimmy regards me with skepticism for a few beats longer, tension building in the air. Part of me is worried he sees right through my lies, that he somehow knows that I’ve got way, way more cash up in my room.

He takes a long, slow sip of his booze as if it’ll give him what he needs to decide what he wants to do next. When he’s good and ready, he twists the cap onto his bottle, slips it neatly into his back pocket, and staggers toward Mom.

“Give it over,” he says, his meaty palm outstretched. The closer he gets, the stronger the smell of nasty, stale cigarettes and cheap alcohol becomes.

“Why?” Mom stammers. “It’s for the mortgage. It doesn’t matter which one of us has it; it’s going straight into the bank either way.”

Jimmy snaps his fingers as he steps closer. “I said, hand it over.”

Mom glances over at me, and I waste no time stepping between her and Jimmy. He keeps on coming, his drunken momentum carrying him forward. He barely manages to hit the brakes before he barrels into me.

My heart’s racing. Dad’s a jackass, and he’s more unpredictable when he’s trashed.

“Kid, get out of the way. I need that money.”

I shake my head. “No, you don’t need the money; the house does. If that money goes anyplace other than directly to the bank, you and Mom are going to lose this house if you don’t get caught up on the mortgage.”

Jimmy scoffs. “Lose the house? Kid, I’m going to lose my freaking life if I don’t get that money. We can figure out the mortgage shit later. If I don’t pay these people something, I’m dead.”

“I’m not putting Mom out on the street because of your screw ups.”

Jimmy scoffs again, his demeanor shifting as he plays his next card. “And what about me, huh? I’m about to die if I don’t pay up. You think a roof over our head matters if I’m dead?”

I remain silent, my jaw set. The last thing I want to do is engage with his manipulative drunken bullshit.

Jimmy’s expression twists into something pathetic and sad. “Wow, really, kid? That’s how little you care about your old man? After everything I’ve done for you?”

His tone is weak and wounded, his voice thick with feigned hurt, a typical cycle in his abusive behavior. He plays the asshole, then the victim, then the asshole again, always twisting the knife to make me feel responsible.

“It’s not that I don’t care,” I say, my voice low but clear. “It’s about priorities. And right now, keeping the house is a priority.”

Jimmy snorts, shaking his head as he mutters under his breath.

“Unbelievable.” His anger simmers beneath the surface, always ready to blame me, to make me the villain in his self-centered narrative.

I stand firm. I’m not about to get sucked into his bullshit again.

‘Mom’s taking the money to the bank on her way to work.’

Instantly, his face hardens. He’s no longer the hurt father but a threat looming close and quickly getting closer.

He jabs a finger toward my face, his voice sharp.

‘Get out of my way, kid.’

“Not a chance.”

He shoves me aside when I don’t move, and I lose my balance, slamming against the kitchen counter, pain shooting through my hip. The impact sends my arm swinging right into a coffee mug, sending it flying from the counter to the floor, where it smashes into pieces, coffee splashing everywhere.

‘Clean that up,’ he snaps, nodding toward the broken mug and spilled coffee.

As I steady myself, anger simmers inside me. Despite the pain, I’m not about to show any weakness.

My eyes still locked on Jimmy’s, I carefully step over the spreading black spill and reach for a towel. But the instant I move from my place in between Mom and Jimmy, I realize I’ve screwed up.

Jimmy rushes toward Mom with surprising speed for someone as drunk as he is, as if the booze has given him a quick flash of superhuman power.

“Give it over!” He reaches for the cash, Mom holding her hand away from him, keeping it out of reach.

“Mandy!” Mom’s desperate voice rings out.

Jimmy plucks the folded-up cash out of Mom’s hand and rushes back to the other side of the kitchen. I notice that it only took a slight exertion to make Jimmy winded, and I watch as his chest expands and contracts so quickly that I wonder if his heart’s about to give out.

Honestly, part of me is hoping that it does.

But Jimmy soon catches his breath and raises the money high into the air. “This money isn’t going to be wasted. I’m not spending it on booze or gambling or some dumbass get-rich-quick scheme. It’s going to save my life. I can’t fucking believe that I need to fight my own family for it.”

I’m so stunned by his gall that I can’t even speak. The way Jimmy’s talking about saving his life, you’d think his predicament had been totally out of his control and not a result of his own bad decisions.

He turns his eyes to me, total rage in his glare.

“And you,” he says. “You’re out of line. If you ever defy me like that again, I won’t hesitate to knock you on your ass. And when you come to, you’ll wake up to find that you’re out on the street.”

He glances at Mom and then at me. “I’ve been working like a damn dog keeping a roof over your heads, and this is the thanks I get, total ingratitude in my darkest fucking hour?” He takes a few more deep breaths and then says, “I’ll remember this. I’ll remember what both of you did.”

“Jimmy, I—” Mom doesn’t get the chance to finish.

“Not a word, Florence. Not a fucking word.”

He slips the money into his front pocket, then takes the booze bottle out of the back. He takes a deep swig, polishing the rest of it off.

“I’m not out of the woods yet.” He tosses the bottle into the nearby trash can, where it lands with a clatter on top of other empty bottles. “If any more extra cash comes into this household, I need it, and I need it without the bullshit. Got it?”

“Screw you.” My words drip with venom.

Jimmy’s eyes flash with pure anger, and I flinch, half-expecting him to spring over and hit me on the spot.

“Got it.” Mom’s words are weak with total defeat.

Jimmy nods one last time, then slips out of the kitchen. Mom and I stand in silence as the front door opens and then slams, after which we hear the sound of Jimmy’s car starting. He drives off and is gone.

I turn to Mom. She is totally still except for her hands, which are shaking.

“Mom…” I step over to her, taking her hands into mine.

She’s stunned, not sure what to say or do. I’ve learned how to stand up to Jimmy’s bullshit over the years, but Mom’s a different story.

“Are you okay?” I ask. It’s a dumb question; of course, she’s not okay. But I’ve got no idea what else to say.

She smiles weakly and shakes her head as if in disbelief.

“You know, when you told me what that money was for, I was happy for the first time in a long, long time. I thought maybe we could finally get ahead like we’d gotten a break from fighting for our lives every month.” She sighs. “Then, when your father took it, I realized how silly it was to think that way. Better to stay realistic, right?” Mom looks up at me and I see her eyes are shimmering with tears.

“We’ll get ahead,” I say. “I promise. Go sit down, and I’ll clean this up.”

Mom opens her mouth to protest but quickly closes it. I sense even she knows she needs a moment.

“I love you, sweetie.” Mom squeezes my shoulder, then steps out of the kitchen.

Anger boils over inside of me the second I’m alone. I walk over to the counter and snatch the roll of paper towels, ripping off a wad and dropping to my knees to begin blotting up the coffee mess.

As I scrub, my thoughts churn. Enough is enough. I’m determined now more than ever to carve out a new life for Mom and me, far away from the chaos that Jimmy drags around.

As I toss a wad of soaked paper towels into the trash, Enzo pops into my head. It’s weird, considering him in all this, but part of me wonders if what’s happening with him might just be my ticket out.

Could Enzo really be part of my escape plan? The idea has a wild ring to it, but then again, yesterday was wilder than I ever could have imagined.

Maybe, just maybe, Enzo could be the key to change our lives for the better.