AJ Padron

Most other high schoolers had to worry about grades, or girls, or petty group drama and not about whether or not their mob boss father would wring their neck when he found out they were gay. Or, at least, as far as Tommy knew, they didn’t. Sure, every kid has problems with their parents, roundabout arguments and things like that, but not quite to the point that Tommy does. He had been trained in the workings of the mob since a young age as his father’s only son. However, as he got older he began to realize that within the workings of his life, so heavily monitored and splayed open by his father, he had been keeping a secret all along, just out of sight, unintentionally.

In other aspects of his life that weren’t his sexuality, he and his father had a very friendly, kind relationship. Even through training Tommy to take over the mobbing business, he didn’t push his son to perform actions he didn’t agree with. His father, like his father before him had used his brute force to make an impression when he was younger but as he had climbed the ladder of power, he had succumbed to the bureaucracy of it all. Nowadays, the Silvano family was so heavily tied into the power and control of the mob that allies and enemies would fall apart without them. Tommy, born into third generation power, would not have to fight like his father had. Of course, only if he didn’t want to. He was trained in self defense none-the-less, but only so that when the shift of power finally came, he would be prepared to teach those that doubted the youngest Silvano’s strength a sore lesson. Unfortunately, there was little to no “heart-to-heart” discussions in a family that leaned more towards punching their feelings out. He would have talked to his mother — (“mother, how do you talk to your mob boss father about wanting to be able to bring your boyfriend into your million-dollar skyscraper home?”) — but she had died a few years before he had even started middle school and found out that being attracted to boys was a weird thing. Besides her, there was virtually no one he felt comfortable talking to about this particular issue. However, things were starting to get out of hand, as they usually did.

Recently, he had been spacing out way too often in the presence of his father, standing in the background as he negotiated some sort of deal or standing next to him in less dangerous situations. Case in point: recently he had been standing, leaning against the dank brick of an alleyway as his father and two high ranking mobsters gathered information from some cop snitch. The alleyway had a smell of trash and wet moss, but it had faded into the background after about fifteen minutes. Completely lost to the world, when his father wandered over Tommy started at the sound of his voice.

    “Toms, Tommy,” his father said, voice as deep and casual as usual, shocking Tommy out of his reverie. His father laughed wholeheartedly at the shock on his face. “What’s got your noggin’ out in space, boy?” he asked, amused, one bushy eyebrow lifting as he placed his hands on his hips.

    “Nothin’ Pops, nothin’ at all. The pig was jus’ puttin’ me to sleep.” he said, trying to sound casual, tucking his hands in the pockets of his silky jacket. His father was still taller than him, even if only barely, and had elected to wear a suit to the meeting, the usual charcoal, and had slicked his black hair back. But Tommy, more partial to spendy silk letterman’s that clung nicely to his muscled form, had dressed rich-casual and left his dark brown hair an unruly mess atop his head.

    His father’s eyes sparkled with mischievous amusement, even with no smile on his lips and turned, inviting his son to walk ‘right-hand’ as they left the alleyway. “Ah, that so,’ he drawled easily, gesturing with one hand to the fellow mobsters, who paced ahead to start the car. “I wonder if you get enough sleep, what with you strollin’ off into the stars so much as of late.” he said, shooting a look down at his son.

    Tommy held back a grimace, a bit of fear lancing through his heart. He pushed it down before it could show on his face. “Mmm,” he started, as they loaded into the fancy car parked on the curb.

He hadn’t even realised that his spacing out problem had been that bad, but he supposed coming out had been on his mind a lot lately. He knew that he had to come out at some point and, being raised as a mob boss’ son, couldn’t help but feel a coward that he hadn’t already gotten it over with. Even if his dad would be upset, potentially lethally so, Tommy supposed that if he was going to have to fight with his father he’d rather do it now than later, when he would be in the spotlight of every mobster in the city.

“Just feelin’ plagued lately, Pops. Lotta thinkin’,” he said honestly, gesturing with one hand vaguely, only really making eye contact towards the end of the statement.

His father hummed lowly in response, looking contemplative, before he reached forward to grab a drink from the in-car fridge and the topic was forgotten for more important things.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that Tommy was suddenly confronted with a chance to be honest to his old man. He and his father had been invited to some studded-chaps’ ball far away from the city in a large, off-white mansion. The whole thing was excruciatingly boring. As the night drawled on and the greetings finally settled down, he and his father had drifted to the side of the room, standing with formal posture against some tightly bundled curtains and talking humorously with each other.

His father was chatting about a deal that Tommy had unfortunately missed out on, winding down to the end of the story of a comically idiotic rival and the conversation flowed easily, low below the voices of the other party-goers. As the story concluded, both of them laughing heartily, the topic shifted with ease to the dreaded lady-talk, as a young gem drifted by in a cream colored ensemble.

“What a pearl, that one!” his father exclaimed, leveling him a completely non-subtle glance, gaging his reactions. “She’s got power in her eyes, I can tell that much,” he added

Tommy almost winced, heart already picking up pace in apprehension of the talk ahead. These were always opportunities for him to shift the conversation towards his sexual identity, but evidently, he still hadn’t found it in him to bring it up. “Sure,” he started, stalling for time, “love her hair.”

His father wrinkled his nose slightly, turning towards him fully, “Toms, at your age I was carrying two girls on each arm. I understand the training takes away some of your freetime, and you don’t need no mafiaette to help ya, but it don’t seem like you’re interested in the crowd at all!”

An honest to goodness opening. Tommy really couldn’t think of a better one. But, even so, his heart had pressed a painfully tight knot into his vocal chords. Squeezing at his heart right back, his anxiety had taken up a roost in his ribcage. He hadn’t had time to prepare the words, so how could now be the right time? He certainly didn’t feel even remotely courageous enough to bare his soul to his father at the moment. But —

If not now, when?

He took a silent but deep breath, and though it didn’t help even a little bit, stubborn Silvano courage started to flow through his veins.

“It’s not that I’m not interested in the crowd,” he drawled, purposefully digging himself a hole so he couldn’t back out, “I just, er, might be looking at a different part of it.” He could see his father’s face twist up in confusion and felt his own face grimace in response “as in, at the pearls in suits rather than the pearls in dresses,” he rushed out finally.

In the silence that followed, it was hard to get a breath and even harder to hear over the buzzing of blood in his ears. His father’s face was emotionless, and Tommy nearly wanted to cower, but Silvano courage still flowed stubbornly to and from his racing heart. His face twisted in comprehension, and looked slightly upset, and the feeling of dread hit Tommy tenfold. His father’s expression changed again, this time looking even more upset, and then straightening out into stubborn acceptance.

Then, suddenly — his father smiled immeasurably wide, and Tommy felt his jaw fall open.

“Son! Why didn’t you tell me so, I’ve been botherin’ you about this for months!” his voice was jovial and, impossibly, proud. “If I were you I wouldn’t’ve been able to take it.”

Tommy had prepared himself for hate and contradiction, but not for pride and easy acceptance, “Uh.” he tried, and didn’t know where to go with it.

His father ignored the attempt and slapped him heartily on the back before wrapping an arm around his shoulder, “you may be the bravest young Silvano yet!” he intoned lowly and smiled down at Tommy with pride sparkling in his dark eyes.

Tommy smiled back sloppily, still overwhelmed from the mood whiplash, and felt amazingly, floatingly, drunkenly happy for the rest of the night.