Underworld

Brendon Urie walked from one of the many restaurants littering Melbourne’s docklands and looked out of the bay. It was beautiful, not just the bay but the city too, his city.

Tonight was Roberto Urie’s fiftieth birthday. Like always, the family and the friends celebrated in style. The most lavish reception in the whole of Melbourne was booked, the food was impeccable and the guests; well, they were told to dress in nothing less that the finest Armani suits money could buy. One would not want to be confused with the likes of the Northern Boys.

Though that being said, those men, their wives, girlfriends and street whores didn’t scrub up to bad, even if their Giorgio Armani suits were actually Georgia Armani. Of course they were in attendance tonight. Brendon toasted to whoever penned the phrase ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer, in this world, no truer words could be spoken…or in this case written.

Brendon’s neck immediately snapped around as a loud squeal erupted from somewhere in the docks. He hadn’t heard the shots but that didn’t been the deed hadn’t been done, in this world every second man owned a silencer. Brendon would be lying if he said he hadn’t considered buying one himself.

The young man breathed a sigh of relief; the party had not become a murder scene, well not yet at least. Brendon couldn’t help but wonder why no one else was as cautious about this party as he was. Surely the party of Melbourne crime boss Roberto Urie was off limits, even if nothing else was.

A pang of guilt surged through Brendon as he thought of his father as a crime boss. For a mere second he felt disgusted in himself, in his family, in everything.

This party was paid for with dirty money, this suit was paid for with dirty money, Brendon’s life was dirty money. His father had never done and honest day’s work in his life but still, he was Brendon’s dad and dads are always the heroes, or in this case, the villain in disguise. Brendon would be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy the life he was treated to. He was bought up in one of the most exclusive suburbs of Melbourne, attended school at the most expensive private all boys school in the state and spent every summer in a different continent of the world. He was grateful yet shameful at the same time.

The scream was nothing but a drunken passerby, stumbling to close to the water’s edge. Thankfully she managed to pull herself to the other side of the footpath before she met the icy depths of Port Philip Bay.

Brendon laughed quietly to himself, the ‘icy depths’, it wasn’t like the water could be any colder than the night air, or the night’s company.

They could all feel it coming, even Brendon. Who’s only exposure to his father’s life was through short conversations at the dinner table, or when he was bought to meetings where he spent more time counting the lines on his pinstriped suit that he did actually paying attention. That’s right, even Brendon could feel what was going on. Everyone looked at each other through double glazed eyes. One side projects a fake friendship while the other picked apart and dissected one’s every move, trying to hear what the other was thinking and predict what he was planning. To Brendon this all felt like a disorganized arms race. One was trying to arm himself while the other would steal not only his weapons but also his plans from right under his nose.

That’s where all this really stemmed from, all this suspicion, all the jumping at shadows and creaking floorboards at night, suspicion. Everyone knew that it was one of their own, who was selling them out, but no one knew who and so the tension grew. This was just the beginning and Brendon had seen enough American Gangster films to know how it ends.

The sound of designer shoes on a wooden dock broke Brendon from his thoughts. His subconsciously inclined right hand when straight to the inside pocket of his suit jacket of course, tonight of all nights he forgot to bring his gun. Where were the security guards when they needed to be doing their jobs?

“Calm down boy, you’re not going to pull a gun on your old man are you?” a familiar voice said.

Feeling relief wash over him Brendon joked “I’d just be one of many in a very long line.”

“You aren’t lying there” Roberto smiled, turning his attention to the city skyline “So what do you think of this?” he asked his son.

“Of what?”

“Of this city, of your city.”

“This is your city, not mine” Brendon corrected his father quickly.

“My grandfather and my father’s, my father’s and mine, mine and mine and yours. Look at up Brendon, this city is ours.”

Brendon nodded weakly, unsure of what to do. He was somewhere between laughing, to him it felt like they were re-enacting a scene from The Lion King, where Mufasa shows Simba his future pride and being sick with the now confirmed news that he was expected to continue the family business.

“How old will you be next year Brendon?”

“Twenty-three.”

Roberto chuckled to himself “If I could talk to God, I’d thank him once for everyday he’s kept me here since you were born.”

Brendon knew it was coming, the talk. This was a customary talk for all these types of families. Brendon thought that he might escape it but there was no such luck.

“But Brendon, I’m a marked man, you know that don’t you.”

Brendon nodded “Do we have to do this now?” he almost whined.

“Well when do you want me to do this then?” his father snapped “In front of your mother, your sisters and nonna? They’d just love to hear this wouldn’t they?”

“I’m sorry” Brendon said quietly.

“Brendon,” Roberto sighed heavily “I don’t know how much time I’ve left here. You’ve got to start paying more attention now; you need to learn how this game works.”

“Dad, I don’t-”

“You don’t have a choice, what are you going to do? Let the Urie name die? Let them take your money, your home, your everything?” His father was right; everything that they stood for was on the line. “There’s a price on my head okay, and I don’t know when they’ll get me,
that’s why you need to listen to me.”

Brendon nodded, he didn’t want to do this but he was getting roped into it anyway.

“I love you okay; you know that, even though I’m not one to say it too often. When I’m not here, you need to take care of your Nonna, of your mum and of Toni and Laura okay? Zia Nella won’t take it too well either. You can not show any emotion okay? None what’s so ever?”

Brendon rolled his eyes, how could he be expected to simply shrug his shoulders at the death of his father when he choked up when it was just the topic of conversation.

“You’re gonna laugh when I say this but it’s time for you to, to find a woman, a strong woman-”

“Like mum?”

Roberto let out a nostalgic laugh “Exactly like your mum, and you tell her everything, you’re the rock for this family and she will be your rock. Do not mistreat her, treat her like royalty. What about Olivia?”

Brendon rolled his eyes “It fell apart.”

“It fell apart because you didn’t take it seriously enough!” Brendon’s father hissed.

“Dad, I’m twenty two, I’m not gonna be married for at least another ten years. Marriage scares the shit out of me!”

“You might be dead in ten years!”

“Why are we doing this?” Brendon yelled “You’re not going to die anytime soon!”

The sound of a loud thwack and fist to bone would’ve sent shivers down the spine of anyone within the father and son’s vicinity they were lucky however, no one was around. Before Brendon’s brain could register exactly what was going on Brendon found himself being dragged by his shirt collar and being thrown into the passenger seat of his father’s black Chrysler.

“What the fuck was that for” Brendon yelled clutching at his now swelling cheek.

“Next time keep you fucking voice down, do you want everyone to know what’s going on!” Roberto hissed “And if you keep speaking like that I’ll give you another one.”

Brendon was shocked at the side of his father which he was now seeing. He had always heard of his father being tough and ruthless but it had never been towards him. Once his father walked through the door of their East Brighton home he was the ultimate dad, teaching the kids how to ride their bikes, losing to them on Play Station and educating Brendon in the fine science of make the ultimate coffee and the perfect barbecue. But this wasn’t the dad side of Roberto Brendon was seeing, this was the business, the serious side of Roberto.

“You need to listen to me Brendon, I’m preparing you for the inevitable, I’m doing this for you okay! Do you think I enjoy telling you how to live once I’m killed? But it’s going to happen okay and you are not going to let our name die okay?”

Brendon nodded trying to accept his future and the responsibility which would one day be thrust upon him. “But no one’s been killed yet, why do we need to go-”

“Brendon” Roberto sighed “You and I both know it’s only a matter of time before it all starts, we’ll be ready when it does. On your off days at uni you will be with me at the docks, learning the ropes so to speak. You will know whose got you’re back and who will pull a gun on you as soon as they get the chance. We could out smart them all, and be the last one’s standing…if it comes to something like that. What do you say?”

Brendon nodded; still numb from the news he was receiving. His father smiled patting him reassuringly on the shoulder “That’s my boy, now, let’s get back to this party and get the speeches over and done with. You better have something good planed for me” Roberto joked “Brendon are you alright?”

Brendon nodded again and got out of the car “Hey dad?” he asked in a voice so small and naive that Roberto could barely remember the last time he heard it.

“Yes Brendon.”

“You punch like…really hard.”

Roberto laughed quietly as they began to walk back to the crowded restaurant “And we’ll teach you how to fight too.”