This is what I have on the back cover of my book. It describes what I was feeling at a particularly momentous occasion in my life; a time when I cared less about anyone else than about myself. And, a time when I had to come face to face with the reality of just how cold I could be--or rather--just how cold life had made me.
As I looked across at the two FBI agents who were questioning me about my ex-husband Tony’s Mafia activities, including the murder of the manager of his nightclub, many questions were also popping up in my own mind: After this, their third visit, shouldn’t I finally give them what they wanted, whatever I knew or had suspected about Tony’s “business”? After all, I’d moved on now and Tony no longer had the hold on my life that he’d once enjoyed. On the other hand, did I really want to summon the wrath of this ultra secretive society, La Cosa Nostra, from which I’d managed to escape with some semblance of normalcy? Then again, Tony had only been one of the many “vultures” who had preyed upon my young life; did I truly wish to protect the likes of him? Since I was no longer a Mafia Princess, perhaps complete compliance to these men could make them, and Tony, go away once and for all. Yet, there might be repercussions. But I’d suffered repercussions all my life for simply having been born. What could the threat of death mean to someone who was, on the inside anyway, already dead?
Monday, May 11, 2009
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