Page 45 of He's Not My Son
“What the hell, Rocco?” Lucia yelled.
“You and your fucking knives. Really?” Blondie reacted.
Rocco hated guns. He’d learned that from his mother. He preferred knives instead. He hated his father for stopping him from becoming an artist. He was happy he was dead. He had given Blondie and Lucia what they wanted for a career, but not him.
“There’s an art to it, you know what I mean?”
Rocco had taken art to a whole new level.
“Where is Vito?” Lucia asked.
Grandpa Moretti had taken care of John, Ralph, and his grandparents back in Jersey. Grandpa Moretti did not take the news of his son being killed very well. He needed to send a very loud, clear, and deadly message to anyone messing with any member of the Moretti family.
Grandpa Moretti believed Clarissa’s lies, the paternity deceptions involving both Michael and Ralph, and her relentless pursuit of more money had ultimately led to his son’s death. In his mind, everyone involved was guilty. That meant the whole family, guilty or not.
“Hi ladies,” Vito said as he walked in. “This is a fucking mess. Who’s going to clean all this blood on the floor?” he said as he looked at Clarissa’s lifeless body.
“See, I told you. There’s an art to using a knife, and they’re less messy.”
“Shut up, Rocco.” Lucia and Blondie said as they both rolled their eyes.
“All right, all right. Let’s clean up,” Rocco ordered.
Lucia and Blondie whispered to each other.
“Grandpa Moretti did not want to leave any loose ends,” Blondie said very quietly.
“I know,” Lucia replied. "No loose ends."
Blondie shrugged.
“I liked Mrs. B. She was always nice to me,” Lucia whispered. A tear ran down her right cheek. “I think I got another speck of dust in my eye.”
“I liked them both. They were very cute,” Blondie said. A tear streamed down her left cheek. “Looks like I got a speck of dust in my eye too.”
THE END.
