Tense Relations, Choppy Waves || Open
Italians are all family, regardless of the last name. Anybody who was anybody, meaning anyone who was truly Italian, knew that. He was glad to see it was still the same out here in America. “I appreciate that. It was a brief blast of being in Roma again,” Alessandro agreed. “What do you do for work, Marcello?” Always a good question to ask someone new if there was a possibility they worked for the same person. The responses were generally the same. Business men. Harbor Masters, politicians, the like. Who knew, maybe they were both Mafioso.
“I love spending in Italy. I don’t get to do that very often, but it always feel like home. Even though I am New York born and bred.” He said with a gentle smile, reminiscing the vacations he’d spend in Italy with Dante and his siblings.
“I’m..a...businessman,” Marcello said after a brief hesitation. Saying out loud he was a heir to crime family, a mobster who was into drug dealings, wasn’t probably the best idea, even though the chances of the young man being a loyalist himself was high.
“What about you?”














