{"id":791,"date":"2021-08-11T19:05:42","date_gmt":"2021-08-11T19:05:42","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/?p=791"},"modified":"2021-08-13T18:38:31","modified_gmt":"2021-08-13T18:38:31","slug":"fishbones-book-i-chapter-7-protect-serve","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/2021\/08\/fishbones-book-i-chapter-7-protect-serve\/","title":{"rendered":"Fishbones Book I \u2013 Chapter 7: Protect & Serve"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

\"\"Illustration by Eyugho<\/span><\/a><\/span><\/p>\n

That night, Ferris stopped by the restaurant to drop off some documents from his father, but he had\u2014of course\u2014been conned into staying for dinner.<\/p>\n

In Gino\u2019s absence, their chef had stayed true to the man\u2019s recipes. Still, there was nothing quite like a meal prepared by Gino himself. Every once in a while, he would stop by, taking over the kitchen in a swell of garlic and basil, sweet tomatoes, and drizzles of olive oil.<\/p>\n

This was one of those nights. Ferris would have to be some kind of idiot to turn down a meal.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou guys want anything else?\u201d Sergio asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo we have any sfogliatelle left? The one with chestnut mousse,\u201d Demos said between sips of his wine.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, sure. What about you, Fish?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ferris gaped at the word he\u2019d just been called. Maybe he had heard incorrectly\u2014he could have sworn Sergio had just called him \u2018Fish.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u201cNo thanks, I\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMangia e st\u00e0i zitto,\u201d Demos said. \u201cHe\u2019ll have some spumoni.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRight, be back in a minute,\u201d Sergio said with a smirk.<\/p>\n

As the young man left their table, Ferris turned his attention to his friend with a hardboiled glare. \u201cFish? What was that supposed to mean?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s what they call you in the back,\u201d Demos said, his attention elsewhere. \u201cIt\u2019s short for Fishbones.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy the hell would they call me that?\u201d<\/p>\n

Demos set down his glass and smiled, as if the answer were obvious. \u201cIt\u2019s all you ever leave on your plate.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ferris observed him for a moment before glancing down at what was left of his meal. True to the tale, all that remained was the white skeleton of a Dover sole. \u201cSo\u2014what do they call you<\/i>?\u201d<\/p>\n

Demos faltered, throwing together a smile that didn\u2019t quite hide the flush in his face. \u201cNothing,\u201d he said. \u201cThey don\u2019t call me anything.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know what they call Uncle Vic?\u201d Demos said, lacing his fingers. The fake smile was still there. \u201cAsh. Guess why.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ferris didn\u2019t have to guess. Victor Giorgetti solved every problem the exact same way\u2014burning it down. He was not a man of variety.<\/p>\n

Before Ferris could follow up, Sergio returned with a tray and two plates. The sfogliatelle was presented with a vanilla sauce on a white dish and Ferris\u2019 spumoni was large enough to feed a couple.<\/p>\n

\u201cJesus Christ, Demos. I can\u2019t eat this.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou have to. Your mom said she\u2019d give me fifty bucks if I fattened you up a little.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ferris shot his friend the dirtiest look he could muster. Two could play this game. \u201cHey Sergio,\u201d Ferris said, his eyes locked on Demos. \u201cWhat\u2019s Demos\u2019 nickname?\u201d<\/p>\n

Demos\u2019 spine stiffened as if a bolt of lightning had just shot through him.<\/p>\n

Sergio grinned. \u201cHim? He\u2019s Ghost<\/i>.\u201d<\/p>\n

Demos covered his eyes with one hand\u2014now his ears were red, too.<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease.\u201d Ferris rested his chin on a hand, smiling. \u201cTell me why.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause he\u2019s whiter than a corpse<\/i>.\u201d Sergio laughed, slapping a hand on his cousin\u2019s shoulder. The look on Demos\u2019 face could only mean one thing\u2014traitor<\/i>.<\/p>\n

That was right. Back at the shooting range, Brian had called him Ghostie<\/i>. It seemed the nickname went beyond the family. \u201cI thought he got his complexion from Gino,\u201d Ferris said.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah.\u201d Sergio shrugged. \u201cBut nobody makes fun of Nonno.\u201d<\/p>\n

That was fair. Gino Giorgetti had taken more lives than Ferris could count on both hands. Demos, however, was free game.<\/p>\n

Once Sergio was gone, Ferris glanced back at his friend. \u201cSorry, Ghost<\/i>. What were you saying?\u201d<\/p>\n

Demos\u2019 eyes were tense, his smile tight\u2014everything about his expression was wrong. He twitched. \u201cDon\u2019t you have some dessert to finish?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ferris smiled. \u201cI\u2019ll give it my best shot. Wouldn\u2019t want to let Mom down, would we?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhatever you say.\u201d Demos returned the smile\u2014this one was real. \u201cFishbones<\/i>.\u201d<\/p>\n

#<\/p>\n

After five and a half months of washing dishes, Ferris had saved enough to get the computer he\u2019d had his eye on. It had been demanding, thankless work. Nights of nothing but the rattling of dishes and scalding water, the struggle to see through fogged glasses, and handling plates so hot that he probably didn\u2019t have fingerprints anymore. He\u2019d been wrist deep in swamp water and soggy food, sweating through Friday night rushes and Mother\u2019s Day brunch. Wine glasses. There had been so, so<\/i> many wine glasses.<\/p>\n

It was time to confront Dad.<\/p>\n

He made his move just after breakfast, when Harold was seated at the dining table with a newspaper and a cup of coffee. Ferris cleared his throat. His father tipped down the edge of his paper. There, on the table, were several rows of bills ranging from ones to twenties. Also, two quarters.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s all this, for my birthday?\u201d Harold said.<\/p>\n

\u201cI saved up enough to buy the laptop.\u201d<\/p>\n

Harold lowered his glasses, examining the stacks of cash. \u201cI see.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, I\u2019d like you to take this and let me use your credit card.\u201d Ferris cleared his throat. \u201cUh\u2014please.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cKiddo.\u201d Harold was smiling. \u201cYou did a good job. I\u2019m proud of you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Oh, no. Something was wrong: he hadn\u2019t said yes<\/i>. Panic set in below Ferris\u2019 ribs. His plan, his entire plan, had been\u2014<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat I want you to do,\u201d Harold said, \u201cis take this money and open up a bank account. Save it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll buy you that computer.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ferris paused. The fear that had welled up in his chest fizzled into a nervous laugh. He blinked. \u201cI\u2014yeah,\u201d Ferris said. \u201cThanks, Dad.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd in twenty years, when you\u2019ve got all that interest saved\u2014\u201d Harold rustled his newspaper, his eyes returning to his article. \u201cYou\u2019re going to buy me a Lexus.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure.\u201d Ferris smiled. \u201cAnything you want.\u201d<\/p>\n

#<\/p>\n

From that day on, the laptop accompanied Ferris almost everywhere\u2014through sweltering subway stations, to the bookstore slash cafe two blocks from his house that had Demos\u2019 favorite coffee cake, through Foley Park in the height of summer, when fat squirrels and pigeons skirmished for discarded french fries by the fountain. There was one place, though, that was special. The building that had been his second home from the minute he had learned to read\u2014the Southport Public Library.<\/p>\n

It was also the only place he was guaranteed to never run into Seamus.<\/p>\n

Ferris never spoke to anyone in these public places, content to be alone amidst crowds. There was one spot in the library near the periodicals, tucked in the back, that was especially quiet. It was the perfect place for homework.<\/p>\n

He sunk into the armchair against the wall, attempting to settle his lanky frame into something resembling comfort. In the time it had taken him to save for the computer, he had grown\u2014tall enough to be mistaken for an adult. Shaving had been added to his morning routine\u2014well, only once a week, but still. Demos, however, seemed to have peaked at 5\u20196\u201d in the tenth grade and had remained there ever since. Another feature he\u2019d inherited from Gino.<\/p>\n

With a few cracks of his knuckles, Ferris started typing. He didn\u2019t notice the next hour go by, nor did he realize the sun had set. His eyes didn\u2019t leave the screen at all until he felt a presence beside him. He looked up.<\/p>\n

\u201cI figured you\u2019d be here,\u201d Demos said with a smile. \u201cYou weren\u2019t answering your phone.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDemos,\u201d Ferris said. \u201cUh\u2014sorry. I had it on silent.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNonno and Uncle Vic are waiting in the car. You\u2019re still coming to the show tonight, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFuck, I forgot.\u201d Ferris dragged his palm over his face. \u201cSorry, just let me save this.\u201d<\/p>\n

The Lincoln was parked at the curb. They piled into the back, shutting the door just as Victor pulled out into the street. The traffic that evening was particularly heavy, something Victor was quick to grow vocal about.<\/p>\n

\u201cFucking parade, why can\u2019t they do this shit when every asshole in the city isn\u2019t trying to get somewhere?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s fine, there\u2019s no hurry,\u201d Gino said. Ferris wished that the man\u2019s attitude was contagious; the traffic was getting on his nerves as well.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh yeah, cut off by a cop, too. That\u2019s just great,\u201d Victor said as a police car crept into their lane. He tapped his brakes, coming to a complete stop to avoid hitting the bumper. A few minutes later the traffic seemed to ease. Once they made it to an open road, Victor\u2019s mood improved.<\/p>\n

It didn\u2019t last long.<\/p>\n

Without warning, the police car in front of them slammed on its brakes. Victor jerked the steering wheel, sending his Lincoln in a sharp curve, but with a shriek of scraping metal, his Town Car plowed into the back bumper. Shattered glass tumbled onto the pavement. A long, gray scar raked across the patrol car. Rubber wafted on the air.<\/p>\n

Ferris clutched the seatbelt over his chest, gasping. It had locked in place, digging a ditch across his body. His hand had involuntarily throttled the door handle. He knew the car had stopped, but couldn\u2019t bring himself to let go. He turned toward Demos.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou okay?\u201d Demos asked, panting.<\/p>\n

Ferris nodded, then looked to the front seat, where Gino was straightening his suit jacket. Victor, on the other hand, had tossed off his seatbelt with a clack.<\/p>\n

No one had died. But someone was about to.<\/p>\n

Red and blue lights popped on, accompanied by a few wails of the police vehicle\u2019s siren, but Victor still threw the door open. \u201cTesta di cazzo!<\/i> My car<\/i>!\u201d<\/p>\n

This did not seem to be the reaction of choice for the two policemen who had just stepped out of their vehicle. \u201cHands up where we can see them!\u201d One officer was already reaching for the holster at his belt.<\/p>\n

Victor\u2019s hands did not go up, instead gesturing wildly at the Lincoln\u2019s busted headlight. \u201cProtect and serve my dick<\/i>!\u201d he shouted. \u201cLook at this! Look what you fucking did!\u201d<\/p>\n

There was a click of two guns as both policemen drew their weapons. They clutched them with both hands, fixing their frames to the ground.<\/p>\n

The officer repeated himself. \u201cI said get your hands up<\/i>, now!<\/i> Step away from the vehicle!\u201d<\/p>\n

At this, Victor\u2019s eyes fell on the two weapons. Slowly, he raised his hands. \u201cOh.\u201d He shook his head. \u201cBad move.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ferris\u2019 hand tightened on the seatbelt. The Southport police force was not known for showing restraint. This was worse than the collision, worse than the scrape of steel and the ring of shattered glass.<\/p>\n

The car shifted. With the clack of an opening door, Gino stepped out. \u201cExcuse me, gentlemen,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

Ferris could feel something twisting directly under his sternum. Shit. Shit<\/i>. Demos was going to have to watch his uncle and<\/i> grandfather get shot to pieces by two policemen, forever remembering this as the worst night of his life. This would haunt him for\u2014<\/p>\n

Ferris glanced over. Demos was slumped in his seat, squinting at the tips of his own bangs. \u201cI think I have split ends,\u201d he said. \u201cUgh\u2014I just<\/i> got a haircut.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDemos, what the fuck\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know! I am never<\/i> going back there again.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, your\u2014\u201d Ferris gestured to the scene unfolding just outside the car. \u201cGino<\/i> is out there. He\u2019s talking to the cops.\u201d<\/p>\n

Demos glanced out the windshield, then back at his hair. \u201cYeah. Sucks to be them.\u201d<\/p>\n

Through the window, all Ferris could see of Gino was a dark shape against headlights, a halo of red and blue highlighting the edges of his frame. Then, his calm voice. \u201cThere seems to be a misunderstanding.\u201d<\/p>\n

One of the officers shuffled his posture, keeping his gun in one hand, gesturing for Gino to halt with the other. \u201cGet back inside the vehicle, Sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

Gino didn\u2019t move, save to adjust a cufflink. \u201cCall your commanding officer. They can clear this up for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

The officer with his hand up snorted. \u201cYeah, uh\u2014I think he\u2019s a little too busy for traffic violations. Get back in your car, old man.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPerhaps two steps higher, then?\u201d Gino said.<\/p>\n

The other policeman spoke in a wheeze of laughter. \u201cYou want us to call the Chief of Police? The Southport Chief of Police?<\/i>\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCorrect.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, yeah<\/i>,\u201d the first officer said. \u201cCause I got his number right<\/i> here in my phone, after my mother-in-law\u2019s.\u201d The policeman adjusted his aim. Now, each Giorgetti had a gun on them. \u201cHands up. Now.<\/i>\u201d<\/p>\n

Whatever air Ferris tried to inhale got caught halfway down his windpipe. His hand flattened on the glass. With a skip in his pulse, he looked back at Demos.<\/p>\n

Still playing with his hair.<\/p>\n

What the actual fuck was wrong with him?<\/p>\n

Gino held up a finger. \u201cJust a moment.\u201d His silhouette lifted a hand to his ear\u2014a cell phone. Gino was standing there\u2014with a gun aimed right between his eyes\u2014and he was making a phone call.<\/p>\n

The wait was only two seconds. Whoever he was calling had picked up immediately.<\/p>\n

\u201cAh, Chief Blakely,\u201d Gino said. \u201cI hope you\u2019re having a nice evening.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ferris could see the outlines of the policemen shift as they turned to look at each other. They weren\u2019t buying it.<\/p>\n

Gino chuckled. \u201cYes, of course\u2014well, it was<\/i> a nice evening until two of your patrolmen had an encounter with my son\u2019s vehicle. They seem to have drawn their weapons on him.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was another pause\u2014this one longer.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, I think it would be much better if they told you themselves.\u201d There was a beep, and Gino\u2019s hand lowered, presenting the phone. The two officers leaned in.<\/p>\n

\u201cUm,\u201d the first one said. \u201cChief?\u201d<\/p>\n

The voice that came through the small speaker was loud enough to hear inside the cab of the Lincoln\u2014and probably in Connecticut, too. \u201cPut your fucking dicks<\/i> back in your holsters and give me your names<\/i> and badge numbers!<\/i>\u201d<\/p>\n

They immediately lowered their guns. \u201cUh\u2014Cole, um\u2014ten, one seven one\u2014\u201d The officer seemed to have trouble remembering his own number. It took a minute for both of them to blurt their identification to the nuclear reaction on the other end of the line.<\/p>\n

\u201cCan you read?\u201d Blakely was still shouting, words tinged with static.<\/p>\n

The second policeman faltered. \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCan you fucking<\/i> read?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo the letters on that goddamn<\/i> license plate are legible<\/i> to you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cListen here, you fucking traffic cones<\/i>\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

The two officers leaned in closer.<\/p>\n

Blakely\u2019s voice echoed. \u201cWe do not<\/i>\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Ferris could see the officers\u2019 postures weaken.<\/p>\n

\u201cPull over<\/i>\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

The officers cringed.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat fucking Town Car!<\/i> Who\u2019s your C.O.? Which precinct are you shitheads from?\u201d<\/p>\n

The first officer coughed, or choked maybe, before speaking. \u201cCaptain Roberts\u201429th<\/sup> Precinct, Sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell get the fuck back to Twenty-Nine and tell Roberts that if he wants to stay<\/i> a captain, he\u2019d better get his sorry ass down to my fucking office\u2014now!\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

The line went dead.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell,\u201d Gino pocketed the phone. Ferris could hear the smile in his voice. \u201cYou\u2019d best be on your way.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was a scuffling of soles over pavement as the two men retreated to their vehicle. Doors slammed shut, the patrol lights clicked off, and within seconds, the police car had screeched off into the night, a dog with its tail between its legs.<\/p>\n

Victor heaved a piece of broken plastic after the retreating vehicle. \u201cYeah, you drive away,\u201d he shouted. \u201cFottuti sbirri!<\/i>\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cVictor, please.\u201d<\/p>\n

But Victor continued to grumble as he and Gino returned to the battered Lincoln. Ferris finally tore his eyes away from Gino. It was over\u2014so why was his pulse still racing? Gino Giorgetti had the Southport Chief of Police on call\u2014the most powerful man in the entire force. On speed dial. How on God\u2019s green earth had he managed that<\/i>?<\/p>\n

Ferris glanced over at Demos, who blinked back at him. \u201cWhat?<\/i>\u201d<\/p>\n

Ferris let out a short breath. \u201cNothing.\u201d<\/p>\n

Of course. This was normal for Demos. Not only was his grandfather a ruthless crime lord, but he was impervious to the entire SPD. Immune to the law. Untouchable.<\/p>\n

It was petrifying.<\/p>\n

Victor was back in the driver\u2019s seat. He adjusted the rearview mirror, catching his nephew\u2019s reflection. \u201cYou kids okay back there?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d Demos said. \u201cWe\u2019re fine.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019d better not be late,\u201d Victor said through grit teeth, restarting the car. \u201cFucking cops<\/i>.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou worry too much,\u201d Gino said. The window cracked and he lit a cigarette, leaning back in his seat. The car pulled back onto the road, leaving behind a few bits of broken glass and bumper.<\/p>\n

Somehow, they made it to the show with a few minutes to spare.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Illustration by Eyugho That night, Ferris stopped by the restaurant to drop off some documents from his father, but he had\u2014of course\u2014been conned into staying for dinner. In Gino\u2019s absence, their chef had stayed true to the man\u2019s recipes. Still, there was nothing quite like a meal prepared by Gino himself. Every once in a […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-791","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fishbones-book-01"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p4oWx8-cL","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/791","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=791"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/791\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":793,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/791\/revisions\/793"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=791"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=791"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=791"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}