Chapter 3

Down the street, just three houses from the Caruso's, lived Philip and Gloria Gennaro. They'd been in that same house for thirty-two years, knowing every neighbor on their block by name. Phil, a respected member of the Plumbers Union, commanded admiration both at home and on the job. Their son, Frank, served in the U.S. Marines and had been deployed to Iraq. News of his severe injury spread like wildfire through the neighborhood, bringing a wave of concern.

Anthony Caruso made his way down to Phil's house, eager to offer any assistance he could for Frank upon his return home.

"Thanks, Anthony, but truth be told, we're still waiting to hear just how bad Frank's hurt. We know it's his leg, but the extent of the injury's still up in the air. Once we've got a clearer picture, if the offer's still standing, I'll have him swing by your place to chat."

"My door's always open for your boy, Phil. He's made some heavy sacrifices to keep us safe. I won't ever forget that, or him."

"Appreciate it, Anthony."

Five months later, Sergeant Frank Gennaro was dropped off in front of his house by a military vehicle. He limped up the stairs, knocked on the front door of the family home, and found solace in the warm embrace of his mother.

"Mom, they didn't get me, but you might just do the trick."

"If you bothered to call more often, or even learned to write letters once in a while, I wouldn't have to resort to checking if you're still my son or just a ghost."

"Mom, if you'd just learn to use a computer, we could email each other, see each other anytime we wanted."

"Don't start that with me again, Frank. Last time you talked me into it, my phone bill hit thirteen hundred bucks. Your father nearly had a heart attack."

Frank chuckled at his mother's remark, then asked if he was allowed to step inside the house, still lingering on the threshold.

Stepping into the house, Frank was enveloped by its familiar scent and ambiance, like slipping into a well-worn baseball glove. It felt like home, and technically, it would be his one day. His parents had sorted it out with a financial planner; when his father retired, the house would officially become Frank's, since the mortgage was already settled. In this neighborhood, where property values had skyrocketed nearly twentyfold, nobody in their right mind ever left. Frank stowed his duffel bag in his old room, noticing it could use a serious makeover, then headed back downstairs.

His mother had already prepared a plate of food for him, even before he had a chance to ask. It was just like the good old days.

At six o'clock, his father strolled in, eyeing Frank up and down. "Nothing seems to be missing?" he quipped.

Frank chuckled. "Dad, let's just say I'll never breeze through an airport metal detector again without raising some eyebrows."

"Are they letting you stay in, or are they sending you home?" his father inquired.

"I'm out, Dad," Frank replied solemnly. "Full disability, thanks to the metal bits lodged near my spine. One wrong move, or if they decide to shift, and I could be in a wheelchair."

Frank despised deceiving his parents, yet he understood the necessity of the cover story orchestrated by the FBI. They meticulously crafted his false narrative, even going as far as surgically implanting metal clips to simulate scars on his body. For over a year, he underwent rigorous training at Quantico, Virginia, all in preparation for this mission. He was handpicked for it. While his Italian language skills weren't fluent— that would have raised suspicion— he could understand conversations proficiently and communicate passably. His combat prowess was unparalleled, excelling in hand-to-hand combat and proficient with various weapons. Stealth was his forte, and he could sprint with the speed of the wind. But what truly impressed his superiors was his unmatched ability to think on his feet, effortlessly navigating through any situation with ingenuity and finesse.

Phil Gennaro informed his son about the unexpected offer from Anthony Caruso. Frank was taken aback by the invitation, but he saw it as an opportunity to seamlessly integrate into the community. After all, establishing himself as a familiar face was crucial for his mission. He pondered over whether to call ahead or just show up unannounced.

Seeking his father's advice, Frank was instructed to pay Anthony a visit in his uniform and simply greet him.

When Saturday morning rolled around, Frank donned his uniform and headed, albeit with a slight limp, to Anthony Caruso's residence.

Approaching the house, he was intercepted by two men who inquired about his purpose.

Frank identified himself and mentioned that Mr. Caruso had offered to meet with him upon his return. One of the men remained with Frank while the other went inside to relay the message. After a brief interval, the messenger returned and granted Frank permission to enter.

Approaching the front door, Frank was greeted by Anthony, who extended his hand in welcome. Frank expressed his gratitude for the invitation and acknowledged Anthony's hospitality. They settled into the living room, and shortly after, Vincent joined them. Rose entered with coffee and desserts before discreetly leaving.

Anthony inquired about the situation in the Middle East, and Frank provided a candid briefing from a soldier's perspective. Upon Frank's conclusion, Anthony and Vincent burst into laughter, seemingly amused by his account.

"So, you're saying if we took out all the big shots above major, this war would've been over eight years ago?"

"Absolutely, sir. Once they get those shiny Colonel ranks, they start kissing up to anyone above them. They lose sight of what's happening on the battlefield and mess everything up. There's a book called 'Not a Good Day to Die' that'll show you how messed up things get with the higher-ups. If you read it and still don't feel like taking out every General and Colonel, I'd be surprised."

A voice from the doorway chimed in, "As long as they're all guys, I'm good with that."

Frank turned to see Antonia standing there and immediately stood up.

"Frank, meet my daughter, Antonia. Antonia, this is Frank Gennaro. They live three doors down."

Frank nodded, extended his hand, and said, "Nice to meet you."

Antonia tensed at the word "ma'am" and retorted, "I'm not a ma'am, you dummy."

Frank chuckled, "Yes, ma'am."

Anthony and Vinny burst into laughter, watching Antonia puzzled by Frank's repeated use of "ma'am."

Antonia stormed out of the room, grumbling about the quality of people joining the military, leaving Frank puzzled about her reaction.

Turning to Anthony, Frank remarked, "I don't think she's too fond of me."

"In that case, Frank, I have a job offer for you," Anthony replied.

"Before you go ahead, there are some things I need to mention. There are limitations due to my injuries. Some are personal, and I prefer not to discuss them. Others affect my mobility. I have shrapnel near my spine, in my hip, and my right leg. Running and heavy lifting are out of the question. If the shrapnel shifts, I could end up in a wheelchair. I want to avoid that at all costs."

"What I have in mind shouldn't pose any risk in those areas. Can you get a weapons permit?" Tony asked.

"I don't see why not. I still have my pistol in my duffel bag, and I can apply for the license at any state office on Monday. My record is clean, and my discharge doesn't take effect until Wednesday. What kind of job are we talking about, sir?"

"First, Frank, call me Tony. Your job is to guard my daughter at all times when she's outside this house."

"Sir, uh, Tony, she doesn't like me. It might be better if you found someone she actually likes."

"Frank, you'll be perfect for her. Try calling her 'Miss' instead of 'ma'am,' and it might help you a little."

"Yes, sir, uh, Tony. Thank you for the job. When would you want me to start?"

"As long as you carry your gun, you can take her to a PG-rated movie on Friday."

"Thank you, sir, Tony. You just let me know whatever hours you want me to work, and I'll be here for you. Day or night, I'm at your service."

"Thank you, Frank. It was very nice seeing you again."