Outtake: The Marcello Side #Naz

Hey, loves! 

We're back for another outtake. I pulled from earlier requests for this one - which actually, I am just fulfilling the other half of an outtake request I already did. We saw Naz with one set of his grandparents, and today is for him with his other grandparents. 

So do enjoy.

*

The Marcello Side

A Naz Outtake

"All right, kid, there you are," Ronnie said.

In the backseat of his enforcer's Hummer, Naz did his best not to roll his eyes at being called kid by a guy who couldn't be more than twenty-five. Even if he had a good ten years on Naz, he just didn't understand why the asshole insisted on calling him a kid all the time when it was clear Naz didn't like it. He only made the effort not to roll his eyes because--usually--he did actually like this enforcer. He didn't want a new one because he opened his stupid mouth and caused a problem. Plus, Ronnie let him get away with more shit than the last one did.

All wins in Naz's book.

"Stop calling me that," Naz muttered, shoving open the back door.

His feet had just hit the paved driveway leading up to his grandparents' three-level home when the enforcer in the front seat replied, "You might be a fucking genius, Naz, but you're still just a fifteen-year-old boy to me. Call me when you're ready to leave, you hear me?"

Naz sighed. "Yeah, I hear you."

So was his life.

"And wipe that scowl off your motherfucking face, too, kid. You know better than to walk around looking sour being who you are and all."

Dammit.

Naz fixed his face.

If only because he didn't want to keep going a round with his enforcer. He swore Ronnie acted like his keeper, babysitter, and mentor just as much as he did his guard. Naz didn't entirely think that was his job, but since nobody ever corrected the guy, well, what could he do or say?

Nothing.

That's just how it worked.

Despite his irritation with the enforcer, when Ronnie waved to him as he headed for his grandparents' house, Naz waved back. After all, even if Ronnie parented him way more than he should, he still liked the fucker.

Naz climbed the stairs to the entrance of the large home, not at all surprised to find his Grandpapa, Dante, already waiting for him in the opened doorway. Even if there were a million other things he'd rather be doing on a Friday night, seeing his grandfather waiting had him grinning to match Dante's smile.

"What was that all about, huh?" his grandfather asked.

"What?"

Dante nodded to somewhere behind Naz, still not moving from the doorway so the two of them had to stay standing like they were with him on the porch and his grandfather in the doorway. "You and your driver."

Oh, that.

"He just gets on my nerves."

Dante arched a brow. "How so?"

"Does it matter?"

"Maybe. Won't know unless you tell me why."

Naz sighed. "He just ribs me all the time. You know? Won't let shit go. Puts me on the spot. Always on my damn ass."

Dante nodded, tipping his chin up as though he'd heard that exact sentiment before. "In a bad way, though, or in a way that teaches you how to keep control of yourself through building your character?"

Well, that made Naz think.

"I'm not sure," he finally muttered.

"Yeah, it's usually later that you figure it out. Probably a little harder on you than it was for me," Dante noted, cocking his head to the side, "because see, I had two brothers going through the same shit with their own enforcers. It's a rite of passage, Naz ... because if they don't get on your nerves and teach you how to hide it, then you'll never fucking learn."

"Dad never said his enforcer--"

His grandfather barked out a laugh. "His? His was ten times worse--would taunt him non-stop, smacked him in the back of the head whenever he could get away with it, drove him up the fucking wall constantly. Whenever Cross went into one of his moods and took off, who do you think hunted his ass down and brought him home? And do you know where that enforcer is today?"

Naz really had to consider that.

"Dead?"

Because that's where he probably should be.

Dante smiled. "No, he's your father's consigliere. Has been since Cross took over the family. Because as much as he hated that man growing up, he was still one of his closest, most trusted people."

"Ronnie isn't that bad," Naz muttered.

"Maybe he doesn't have to be ... or maybe your dad just knew who would work best for you, hmm?" Dante shrugged, and then reached out to clap a hand on Naz's shoulder before he pulled him into the familiar house. "We all had the same shit to handle, Naz, and so will you. Your grandmother is in the kitchen. She's making lasagna and garlic bread."

Which meant he needed to help.

Naz heard what Dante didn't say.

"Got it."

Naz found his grandmother in the kitchen, just like Dante said he would. However, his grandfather hadn't been entirely right because Catrina wasn't actually cooking. She had simply pulled out some pots and dishes, all the groceries needed to make supper, and put them on the counter.

"Waiting for me?" he asked.

Catrina turned on him with a smile. There was a familiarity about his grandmother's face that always made him feel welcomed--his mother looked so much like her mother. And even his sister took those same, pretty feminine features.

"Actually," Catrina said, "I'm not going to be cooking today."

"But--"

"You are."

Naz laughed. "You want me to cook? Alone?"

"Why not? I think I've cooked for you more than enough, no? It's only fair that you cook me a nice dinner, and entertain me while you do it."

Naz grinned.

That was typical for his grandmother.

Always keeping him on his toes.

"And what if I fuck it all up?"

"You won't. You can't. I'm here."

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