Made men.

Society have us believing they are criminals, killers, monsters. They are the cause of all the crime in America. Maybe they are, Maybe they are the vicious inhuman

beasts, that our parents tell us about.

But one of them was also my friend.

He’s the reason Diamond can sit at that damn desk everyday lost in her own world. The reason why I get to live another day, because a made man was what saved our lives.

Reno Catelli was a made man, he was also Diamond's boyfriend and one of the very few friends I had.

Now he's gone, killed at age nineteen.

“Eterno riposo, concedere a loro, o Signore , e lasciare che perpetua risplenda ad essi la luce, Maggio le anime dei fedeli defunti attraverso il ricordo di Dio, riposo in pace. Amen. Our Father, into your hands, O Lord, we humbly entrust our brother Lorenzo Michel Catelli. In this life you embraced him with your….”

Standing in the back of the grave-site near an old frail tree I listen to the priest preach about death and life, the importance of forgiveness and prayer, all the while I watch Diamond from across the crowd of people.

She refuses to look at me, standing sturdily next to her dad. Not too far from the Catelli family and their people but not too close either.

Guess having been the girlfriend of a made man has its perks even in death.

It is hilarious to think about.

saw him yesterday, and you going to see him today, and most probably tomorrow and the next

when I’m not in front of preying eyes. But every time I

the Seattle breeze, my vision planted on my best girl, I

than ever. I am the one she’s

can't

of my friend, not yet. I need answers, justice, and her safe, she is fif- fucking-

Her mother was a deadbeat junky who

is looking at seven years

just a small motorcycle club that doesn't

Satan Snipers Motorcycle Club can, not like Vincent and his men. But getting them to look out for her isn't going

didn’t have the patience or the inclination to look after a girl that would prove more work than just letting

I know, I tried.

our own government. And let's face it, babysitting an arguably crazy fifteen-year-old

I were to share her expertise with either group, but I couldn't,

throw roses and soil on the

her and just hope that in a few months from now Michael will fulfill his promise,

steps onto the small stool stationed next to

ragged to match

to

the silent, loud

I could tell her, I can’t, Diamond can’t know the

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