The Dominator (2 page)

“Married, Pop? Who says I’m ready to get married?”

“Tommy, my boy, you’re almost 30! When I was thirty I already had 4 kids. You don’t become a man until you start a family of your own and need to be a family man to take over the company. You decide who you marry, of course, and this young girl, she’s part Irish, half Italian. She’s beautiful, she’s young so she can be molded into what you need her to be, and that doesn’t mean you can’t still have your fun. It’s your decision, of course, my boy…”

“I’ll think it over.”

This was the best way to handle my father. He’d been pushing me to get married since I was about 23 but never this bluntly. As his eldest son, it was expected, before I took over the company. I’d been prepped and primed to take over this company ever since I could remember. He’d drilled a lot into my head over the years and I’d jumped through hoops to prove I was worthy. Not just to him, to myself.

To him, settling down showed a commitment to family, showed I was ready to be a man, so to speak. I was sure I’d already proven I was a man many times to my father with tests I’d passed, decisions I’d made, problems I’d taken care of, opportunities and profit I’d brought the business --- he knew I had what it took. My father was a demanding prick and I’d paid the price of being his son many many times. I was all but in charge as it was already. In his mind he wanted me to do this to show everyone, his associates, his enemies…that I was ready to take the helm. It was an old school way of thinking but that was how it was with Pop.

He’d put me at the bottom of the ladder when I was 14 and made me work my way up like any other soldier that worked for him. I knew what it took to take over for him and I knew I was ready. Evidently he thought I needed to take one more step on this journey before he was willing to hand over the keys to the kingdom.

But married?  He’d talked about me being married in a “someday when you’re married,” or “someday when you’re a father,” “someday when you run this business,” way for years but I’d never given getting married much thought. Pop certainly enjoyed being married, he got married often, but despite his love for walking down the aisle he wasn’t a man who believed in any sort of marriage sanctity.

Me? Women were a means to an end for me. They satisfied my desires. I had a healthy appetite and an active sex life with as much action as I wanted. I didn’t do relationships --- didn’t want to, didn’t need to. I never had the desire to get serious, to be monogamous. I knew women liked the way I looked and they liked the money, the power, but I hadn’t met anyone I cared enough about to take things to any level other than physical. Thomas Ferrano Jr. was a force to be reckoned with in and out of the boardroom, the boxing ring, the bedroom, and more and I’d been busy my whole life, proving myself, focused on the business.

I liked control in and out of the bedroom and was very partial to rough sex. I had my pick of playthings to suit whatever my fancy was on any given day. Blonde, brunette, redhead, African American, Asian, whatever. I’d certainly never met someone I’d wanted to marry or even date seriously. Dating someone? Getting serious? That’d feel too much like giving up control to me. Not interested.

Never desired having the same woman in my bed night after night, rarely was I interested in even having the same woman twice. Who needed a woman nagging me, thinking she could tell me what she didn’t want me doing, asking me inane questions that I couldn’t be bothered to answer? I had no desire niggling at me yet for kids, either. I had nieces and nephews through my two sisters and the kids were fantastic but they weren’t my problem on a daily basis. Being Uncle Tommy was just fine by me.

Married? Sheesh. I knew how Pop’s brain worked and to him, it was necessary and I’d need to do it to get what I wanted. Full control. I wanted control, control in all areas of my life. Pop was slipping just left of his prime; it was time. Pop was missing the boat on some great opportunities that could make us a lot of money and get us out of the small time game in a few areas. I could take the company to greater heights, areas that made more money and lowered our risk. If I had to get married to get him to give me the keys to the kingdom and for me to not have to run business decisions by him, maybe that’s what I’d have to do.

He and I butted heads a lot; I guess what everyone says is true; we’re a lot alike. And if I was head of the business I’d want to think about an heir to take over for me some day, rather than promoting one of my nephews.

My buddy and business associate John was married and had kids and he also had power. He and I got hammered one night at the sex club I belonged to and a conversation came up about my lack of desire to hook up with one girl night after night. He’d talked about how fucking amazing it was to have a submissive, a woman who would bow down and do anything he wanted to please him. I had that whenever I wanted. It wasn’t the same girl each time but there was no shortage of women in the club who’d pant in heat when I approached them.  Johnny said I didn’t get it, didn’t understand what I was missing, how amazing it was to have her submission, her trust, her commitment. He played at the club. His wife was cool with it. His wife liked threesomes, even. And his wife didn’t tell him what to do; she yielded to him in everything. He told me there were relationship parameters and he knew what her limits were and said he had loads of room to play.

I’d laughed and slapped him on the shoulder and said, “See Johnny, that’s where you and I are different. The only way in the world that’d go down for me is if there were no limits, no safe words.”

Control. Full control. I looked at the picture sitting in front of me again and the way she looked… I thought about control. I thought about controlling the business, being in full control of my own destiny, and I couldn’t help but think about controlling her.

Pop was watching me mull things over.
Fuck
. I looked at him, conceding, “I’ll meet her. We’ll see.”

My father got that look on his face that he gets when everything is falling into place. That look was one of the very few things that could chill me to the bone.

Tia

Graduation day.  How exciting! Two other girls from Rose and Cal’s were also graduating so today was a big day at the house. We were all “all dolled” up. My hair was up in a sleek updo that everyone said makes me look a little bit Katy Perry pin-upish. Bright red lips, smoky eyes.  Rose told me I looked 25 instead of 19. I feel like I’m older, anyway.  Always have.  It was probably because of losing my Mom so young.

It was probably, in part, due to being almost on my own for the better part of a year at almost 9. After Mom died, Dad would leave me alone for hours at a time, sometimes overnight, while he nipped out to run “errands”. I learned how to make simple meals at that age, to cook and clean up after myself. At 9 I even paid the electric bill once when I noticed that there was a disconnection notice taped to our door. It was a rare occasion that my Dad’s wallet had been full of cash so while he slept off a bender I took the bill and took the money and walked the 3 blocks to the bank and paid it.

Social services hadn’t looked too kindly on it, though, when I told them about it in my interview when they’d come over to check on me after my aunt had called. I’d been proud of myself when I told them I could get myself off to school, make my own breakfast and pack my own lunch, and that I’d even paid bills at the bank with money from Daddy’s card games.

Yeah, that had gone over
so
well that they hauled me into care. They’d come with Aunt Carol and found me at home alone with almost no food in the fridge other than some dried out old Chinese take-out but case of 24 beer in the fridge and nothing but some saltines and beer nuts in the cupboard. The green mat had still been on the dining room table from a poker game Dad had hosted two nights before and it was filled with crushed beer cans and overflowing ashtrays. He’d always told me to stay in my locked room during those games.

Dad turned up drunk in the middle of the meeting and blubbered like a baby in front of the social worker. He was ruined after Mom died. I felt like I had to take care of him back then. Lord knew he couldn’t take care of me. I guessed that was what made me an old soul, the fact that I had to be.

Anyway, here I was all ready to graduate high school, wishing my parents were there to see me get handed my diploma, graduating on the honor roll. I didn’t know if Dad would make it. I doubted he would. I knew that Rose, Cal, and Susie, my social worker would all be there for me and that was okay.

After the ceremony we had a family celebration planned at Rose & Cal’s and tonight there was a big dance and after party planned, too. My ex-boyfriend Nick had been sniffing around me all week and I wasn’t looking forward to seeing him tonight.

I’d dumped him a month ago because I found out he was selling pot on the side from his gas station job. Some people would buy gas and when they came in to pay, He’d slip them dope. I wanted no part of that. Yeah, sure, I smoked up once in a while but I had no desire to build my future with a guy who would put his future in jeopardy. He was a loser. I didn’t like to think of my Dad as a loser but in reality, that’s what he was. I wasn’t about to get tied down with a loser of a boyfriend, too.

Nick was trying to win me back. I wanted no part of it.  Nick was 22, he was gorgeous, long hair and leather jacket, tattoos, and he was a bad boy. I was attracted to the look and the swagger of bad boys, for some reason, but when it all came down to it they’d get dumped as soon as they showed me their true bad boy colors. It sounded dumb, of course, because while I was attracted to them, I didn’t want to waste my time on someone going nowhere but downhill.

I thought about the guy that had come into the ice cream parlor I worked at the other day. He’d come in while I was working my last day and he was well-dressed, as sexy as a movie star, and carried himself with confidence.  He was so tall and strong and 100% grown-up male. He was very different from Nick. Older. Somewhere near 30, I figured, and he gave me tummy flutters like I’d never had before. What would it be to date a guy like that? A guy that oozed sex appeal and power? He seemed so together. A man.

As me and my foster sisters got ready for our big day they were giggly but I was deep in thought about the guy, the ice cream parlor hottie. I hadn’t stopped thinking about him the past 2 days and the past 2 nights. But that had been my last day at that job so the chances of seeing him again were small. He’d flirted with me but I’d been like a deer in the headlights. I wished I was older, more confident, and that I’d given him my phone number. I was
so
over Nick, so over guys that were like Nick.

I had a sneaking suspicion Nick was trying to get my attention because he knew that tomorrow I’d be moving into my own apartment. He wanted alone time with me.  He and I had done the alone thing plenty of times and I didn’t need to go down that road again.

Nick texted that he wanted to attend the graduation ceremony but I had only a limited number of tickets to give out for family members and friends and since I had no one but Dad I’d given my extra tickets to the other girls who had other guests. I’d only sent one to my father at his last known address along with the Facebook inbox message and a note to pick his ticket up at the school office if he did get a chance to come.

I was ready for new things. A new place, college in the fall, and new opportunities. Maybe a new guy, too. One who was ready to be a man, not a boy living in 1 bedroom apartment shared with 2 other guys who rotated using the bedroom when they had girls over with the never-innovative sock on the doorknob as the clue that the room was “in use.” Gross. I told Nick I wasn’t using that room for sex. We’d done it in there once and never again. We’d done it a few times in his car but it was certainly not very fulfilling! The car and the bedroom both hadn’t been cleaned in months. He undoubtedly saw my upcoming apartment as an ‘in’. No thanks! He’d already texted me three times today, trying to get me to agree to ‘talk’ later on tonight.

As I walked up on the podium to receive my diploma I had the surprise of my life.  My Dad, in the audience. Sitting there smiling at me.  He sat beside Rose, who was chatting softly to him while snapping pictures of me. Nick was sitting behind my Dad, dressed up and smiling at me. I avoided his gaze, tried not to think about how handsome he looked. Looks weren’t everything! Why was he even here? I bet Ruby gave him a ticket; she’d been trying to get us back together.

After the ceremony was over we were all in the school’s courtyard for photos.  Dad rushed to me. He looked good. I’d only ever seen him in a suit once, at my Mom’s funeral. This was the same suit. He had his dirty blonde hair gelled back and he smelled like expensive cologne. He looked together-looking. Seeing him like this reminded me of how he was before Mom died. His green eyes sparkled. Everyone said I had his eyes. He’d never been perfect but we did things together.  He taught me to cook, I’d hang out with him while he tinkered with his car, he’d hold me high in the air with an airplane ride to bed every night that he was home at bedtime, read me bedtime stories with such effort and emotion, doing different voices for every character. He wasn’t the perfect father or husband before she died but after she died, he was like a shell of a man who tried to drink and gamble away his pain.

He swung me around in a giant hug, making me squeal. “Athena, sweet pea! I’m so proud. You look all grown up. Look at you. Someone take our picture!” He called out to the rest of our group and Rose hurried over with her camera. Susie, my social worker, eyed my dad warily.