The young man entered the room nervously.  Although the sun shone brightly outside, the room was gloomy.  The light from the window merely served to accentuate the shadows that surrounded the thickset old man.  The old man leant forward, the light from the window accentuating his jowls.

“Sit, Julian.  Sit, sit.”  He waved a hand heavy with rings at the chair facing him.
Julian sat, unbuttoning his church suit jacket and subconsciously adjusting the unfamiliar tie.  He waited for the old man to speak again, but the old man sat back into the shadows, studying the young man’s face.

Eventually he said, “So, you’re Toni’s boy, eh?  I was at your christening, you know.  And look, here you are, a man.  You make me feel old, you know that?”  Though he had been born and raised in America, there was still a heavy Italian influence to his accent.

“I’m sorry, Mr Carducci.”

Mr Carducci laughed gently.  “Don’t be sorry, son.  You’re young.  That’s not a crime.  One of the few things that isn’t a crime in this country.  Do you still go to church?”

“Yes, sir.  We all do, especially now Dad’s … gone.”

Mr Carducci nodded gently.  “That’s good, that’s good.  A lot of people blame God when bad things happen.  It’s good you find comfort there.  How’s your mother, eh?”

“She’s fine, thank you very much, sir.”

“You looking after her?”

Julian looked shocked.  “Of course, sir.  We’re family.  Me and my brothers, we all look out for her.”

“You live at home, still?”

“Me and Michael, and Lucy, of course.  Joe and little Toni are married, but they look in on us regular.”

“You work?”

“When I can, Mr Carducci.  I had to stop school, you know, when Pop … so I got to get work where I can find it.  But it’s hard, with all the other guys chasing the same jobs, but they got diplomas and all.”  He sat up straight in his chair.  “But we get by.  We ain’t rich, but we provide for Momma.”

“You never came to me for money.”  There was a hint of reproach in the old man’s voice.

The young man looked squarely at the older man.  “We’re not beggars, sir.  We’re grateful to you, for the help you gave Papa and all, but a man doesn’t get down on his knees at the first sign of trouble.  That’s what Papa said.  You got to stand on your own feet, or the world will just walk all over you.”

The old man chuckled.  “I can hear Toni saying that, just like you said it then.  You’re your father’s son, Julian.  You should be proud of that.”

“Yes sir, I am.”

The old man leant further back, steepling his fingers in front of him.  “You’re a good kid, Julian.  I can see that.  You show respect.  You dress up in a suit and call me ‘sir’.  That’s good.  So many kids today are punks.  You go to church.  You care for your family.  All this tells me you’re a good kid.

“And I’m sorry for what happened to your father.  He was a good man, too.  He would work for me, when I needed him.  Did you know that?  He always did exactly what I wanted him to do.  ‘Do this, do that,’ I’d say, and I knew he’d do it.  I wouldn’t have to worry.”

Julian shook his head.  “No sir.  I didn’t know he did jobs for you.  I just thought you and him were friends.”

“Well, we were friends, too.  Family, almost.  That’s what friends do, Julian.  That’s what family does.  We look out for each other.  We do each other favours.  We help each other out.  This is the way the world works.  You got no friends, you got no family, and you’re nothing.”

The old man suddenly leant forward, slapping his hands on the desk.  “I’ve made a decision, Julian.  Your papa was Family.  You’re your father’s son.  I want to make you Family.  I got some restaurants down town.  You’re presentable, you’re polite.  It doesn’t pay that good, but it’s a regular job.  And from time to time I might have extra work for you, just like I had for your father.  How does a regular job with me sound?”

“That … that sounds great, Mr Carducci.  Thank you.”

The old man held up his hand.  “Don’t thank me yet.  There’s a condition to this.  A favour I want to ask you.  The world, Julian, the whole damn world runs on favours.  Even me, sometimes I owe favours.  I have … a colleague.  He has asked me a favour, a favour I feel I’m obliged to honour.  You, I think, you might be the person to do that for me.  Can I trust you, Julian, like I trusted your father?”

The young man nodded eagerly.  “Sure thing, Mr Carducci.  You can trust me.  Consider it done.”

The old man hesitated.  “You sure?  You don’t even know what the favour is yet.”

“What?  We’re family, right?”

The old man nodded slowly, then pulled open a desk drawer.

“Here,” he said, tossing a photograph and a piece of paper across the desk.  The paper held a name and an address.  “I want you to take this person out.  As a personal favour to me.  I’m obligated to my associate, do this, and I’ll be obligated to you.  And you can drop the ‘Mr Carducci’.  I’m your godfather.”

Julian looked at the photograph and swallowed hard.  This wasn’t what he had expected.  “Take them out?” he asked, his voice quavering a little.

“Yes.  Is this a problem?”

Julian studied the photograph again.  He met the old man’s stare, then slowly shook his head.  “No, Mr .. Godfather.  No problem at all.”

“Good, good.”  He reached into his pocket and tossed over a couple of bills.  “And when you take her out, buy her some flowers.  Girls like that.  Have her back by eleven, and no funny stuff, you hear?”