Donnie

“Goodbye and good luck!” Lisa waved at me as she dropped me off in front of my place.
I nodded and turned to look at my house. Normally, the stylish bungalow with a sloping roof gave me peace, but not today.
I said a little prayer and quietly tiptoed into the house.
In my large sitting room, I found my father, Nico Gambino was seated on one of my leather couches, his legs crossed. Not less than six men were in the room with him, all part of his security outfit. I knew there were other men somewhere around the house, and even some on the street. As an Italian mob boss, my father was a target for rival gangs, hitmen and law enforcement agents, so his security was really tight.
Caught in the act, I thought with resignation as I pasted a smile on my face.
“Hello, Daddy.” I walked up to where he sat in his hand-tailored designer three piece suit, leant down and hugged him.
“Donatella,” My father grunted when I pulled away.
I saw his green eyes were narrowed, and his usually red face was looking redder than normal. It really contrasted with his white hair.
Uh-Oh, someone's mad at me, I thought and pulled on a cute face.
“I'm sorry, Daddy.” I mumbled, trying my best to look remorseful, “I didn't m—”
My father held up a bejewelled hand, and I swallowed the rest of the explanation I'd been about to give.
“Donatella, Donatella,” My father called, “Why are you so intent on giving me a cardiac arrest?”
I rolled my eyes surreptitiously, my father was such a drama queen.
“Daddy, it was just a little fun.” I explained, drawing circles on the floor with my feet.
“Let me get this straight,” My father rubbed his thin nose, and I knew he was tired.
“Father, why don't you rest? I know the flight from Sicily was super stressful,” I hurriedly suggested, “You can always scold me tomorrow.”
I made the suggestion because I knew my father couldn't stay mad at me for long.
My father shook his head adamantly, “No, it must be done tonight. By tomorrow I wouldn't be as mad as I am now, and you know this.”
So my father was onto me, what else was new?
“Donatella, you are my daughter. You know that means you have a target on your back!” My father stated, his voice rising with each word, “That was why I took you from Sicily and sent you here to the States.”
“I know, I know.” I mumbled. This was not my first time receiving this lecture from my father, and I knew it wouldn't be the last.
“I asked you to stay in our mansion in New York, but you refused,” My father continued, “You said you wanted this . . . shed because it was closer to your school.”
My father had condescendingly called my bungalow a shed. I didn't reply for fear of irking him further.
“I agreed to let you stay here on one condition; you'd go everywhere with the bodyguard I assigned to you. If I remember correctly, you willingly agreed. So why would you give your bodyguard the slip?” My father looked positively puzzled.
I wanted to say that I'd agreed to his deal to get him off my back. Living in our mansion in Sicily, which had bodyguards crawling all over the place had been so stifling. I wasn't allowed to go out and hang out with friends, I couldn't date, and my friends weren't allowed to visit me.
“Daddy, it's not a big deal. The club is nearby, and going there with a guard would look so uncool,” I flipped my hair, “Moreover, nobody knows I'm related to you, so chill.”
“I will not . . . chill!” My father's Italian accent got more pronounced as it was wont to when he was worked up, “You can't tell me to chill! You remember what happened to your mother and James, God rest their souls.”
I swallowed hard and blinked back tears. The memory of my mother and my brother's deaths was still fresh to me, despite the fact they'd died almost five years ago.
Suddenly, I felt like a terror as I imagined how worried my father had been when he'd gotten here and realized I was missing. He didn't deserve this.
I sighed guiltily. I should probably tone down my rebellious acts, my father already had too much on his plate, after all.
“I'm sorry, Daddy. It won't happen again. I'll be good at all times, and I won't sneak out without my bodyguard.” I pledged truthfully. My bodyguard was some humorless boor whose name I didn't even know. He never wanted me to do anything fun, which was why I delighted in giving him the slip.
“That's too late,” My father tutted, “I've relieved your bodyguard of his duties.”
A myriad of emotions hit me. First, I was confused. Why would my father lecture me on the importance of keeping my bodyguard close and then fire him? Secondly, I was glad to be free of my bodyguard, who was always breathing down my neck.
I pumped my fist happily and my father cocked an eyebrow, “What's that for?”
“You've withdrawn my bodyguard,” I grinned happily, “Now I can have some privacy.”
My father stood up and straightened his tie, “I fired him because he was incompetent. My men and I are going to remain here until I can get you a suitable bodyguard. Goodnight, Donatella. I'm going to get some rest.”
My mouth hung open as my father and his slew of men walked away into the guest area.