--- the giovanni way ,

[Paolo Giovanni]

hey, it's your favorite italian mafia family! these are the giovannis, also referred by the gios. these six characters are played by lainey, anna, and lily, and what an interesting bunch this is. whether they like their family or not, they are associated by their last name, which strikes fear into other gangs and mafias on the west coast. the giovannis, headed by fausto, is a italian mafia based in los angeles. we'll be posting past memories of our characters, current happenings when they're not in rps, and anything else we want to. from left to right, here are the gios: tony (anna), luca (lainey), violetta (lainey), paolo (lainey), anya (anna), & celia (lily). and to relate them all back together; tony is the adoptive father to anya, brother to gio head, fausto, and uncle to remaining four. the remaining are all cousins with fausto being paolo's father.

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[Paolo Giovanni]

JULY 1999 ;
grandfather's funeral
"WHEN THE GAME IS OVER
THE KING AND THE PAWN GO
INTO THE SAME BOX"
- italian proverb

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told in the first person, young paolo
remembers his grandfather's funeral
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"It had to be the second day I was in Los Angeles with my family. The house we moved into was my grandfather's. I believe I was nine or ten when we moved from Italy to California. I remember he had to have been some kind of movie star. We were escorted in black cars from the house to the church and then to the burial grounds. I was sad, but I think I only saw my grandfather a grand total of four times. All those times was when he made rare appearances in Italy.

Angelica and Tino were only around seven or eight and a little clueless about what was going on. I was clueless too. Mostly to the amount of guy around the four of us kids as we walked up the church's stairs. The amount of protection we had would have made the secret service look like mall cops. I later found out that the Irish were being the bastards they were and made threats about doing something during my grandfather's funeral. Being as the disrespectful pricks they usually are. Thus this ensued the need for some protection.

Honestly, I can't remember the funeral all to well. I was concentrated on the men in black suits behind us whispering things that I couldn't catch, but knowing what I know now, I could have probably guessed. Before we were getting into the car to drive to the cemetery, one of the men, who has become somewhat of and uncle to me, 'Uncle' Freddy, pulled my father aside and I heard in the heavy accented Italian voice he had say to my father, 'I know there isn't suppose to be any sort of business today but the fucking Irish are causing some problems...' I was pushed along by the people coming out of the church, and wasn't able to hear the rest. What Irish? Our mother was Irish. What business? My father didn't have a job here. What was going on? I was utterly confused. Moments later though, Dad joined me, my siblings, and my mother by the car. 'I have to take another car over to the cemetery, ok?' My mom gave him a look but nodded, 'Ok.' she managed to say, looking worried, and ushered the four of us into the car.

The next day, I read in the paper some Irish mob members were found dead outside of an Italian restaurant.

Italians, like the Greeks, have a lot of family members. My cheeks were swollen by the time we got to the cemetery. The one thing that stood out the entire day, my entire life happened that day. My father was standing next to me, his hand on my shoulder as this machine lowered what remained of my grandfather's body into the ground. Beyond one of my cousins' shoulders, standing across me, I saw a man. He was behind a fenced, clearly an Italian, looking at my father. I looked up at my dad, who was looking at the same man I was. My father nodded. I looked quickly back at the man behind the fence who ever so faintly nodded too. He was holding something against his side, that I couldn't make out. As he pulled sunglasses over his eyes, I saw a glimpse of a gun underneath his suit jacket. I was about to look back up at my father, but something stopped me. I felt his strong hand squeeze my shoulder.

I was too scared to say anything the rest of the day."

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[Paolo Giovanni]

JANUARY 2000 ;
advice from buddy
"A MAN SHOULD LEARN
TO SAIL IN ALL WINDS"
- italian proverb

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told in the first person, paolo retells
a story about a time in los angeles
when he first went to a fighting match.
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"I was around eleven when me and some boys from school snuck into one of those boxing rings. I'd only been in Los Angeles for seven months, and I still was trying to redeem respect from the older boys in my class. The ringleader of the group was trying to be friends with was Timmy. Man, he was such a dick now that I look back on it. Made kids eat worms, run into the girls' locker room, and run down the hall yelling 'fire!' just to join his little group. But we were ten and eleven, and we'd do anything to be apart of that group. Yeah, it was bad. My judgement day hadn't arrived yet, and I was a little nervous I will admit. So when Timmy snuck me, and some other fourth graders into a boxing match, I was stoked.

I've always been interested in boxing. The whole thing was just intriguing. Naturally at eleven and younger, my mother would never let me get into classes. I was too busy playing Mozart and Bach. Like Timmy and the Gang would ever find out I played Mozart. Though, Alberto was teaching me how to fight on the side. And, some of my uncles. Well, not my real uncles, just close friends with my dad. The basics.

I don't know how nobody noticed four fourth graders. Maybe it was the energy in the room, because everyone was throwing their hands in the air, yelling, and jumping. It was crazy in there. Somehow we climbed on top of these crates against the wall and watched the fight. One of the boxers was Buddy. Probably the best in the city this season. I don't even remember who the other guy was. Honestly? I was wondering why Timmy let me come. After the fight was over, we sneaked out into the alley. Being boys and running around the place while punching the air, jumping in the water puddles while voicing over what a narration of a pretend fight would have sounded like. 'Oh, Giovanni is down! One, two, thr-! Oh my god ladies in gentlemen! He is up! Giovanni is up! Man, that kid has endurance! Ok, Giovanni ducks that blow and gets him in the gut, swing up to his face. Four hit combo, his opponent is down! The ref's counting it one... two... ten! Giovanni wins the match! I repeat Giovanni wins!' I yelled as I did a victory lap in a pretend circle of what the narrow alley would allow. 'And the crowd goes wild!' I finished.

Timmy looked at me like I was a nutcase.

So then of course, he wanted to re-create the whole fight we all just saw. Who was Timmy going to be? The guy that won. Me? The one that got his ass kicked. The other kids were egging me on while cheering for Timmy. Looking back, I don't know why I willing got my ass beat to get accepted into this messed up group of kids. I was a pushover. Timmy sure did a number on me. Got a shiner on my eye, some bruises on my arms and torso. I got in a couple of swings in myself but I was suppose to lose.

Timmy actually never won. It actually ended up being too much for me, and I was feeling lightheaded and had a hard time breathing. It was the asthma condition I had that developed around when I was five. The last thing I remembered was Timmy's fist as it connected with the side of my face.

I woke up to, 'Kid, kid. Jesus fuck. Wake up, kid.' My eyes opened and red, neon, fluorescent lights casted a light over the guy that was talking to me. The alley was dark, but I knew who it was. It was Buddy, the winning boxer. My hero. He helped me up to a sitting position. 'What are you doing out here kid?' he said to me. I was trying to remember where I was and how I got there. Then I remembered Timmy, and it all fell into place. 'I- I think I passed out,' I said. Then Buddy lifted me up to a standing position, crouched down to my level and asked me my name. 'Paolo Giovanni, sir.' I said. 'Well, Paolo Giovanni, do you need a ride to your house or something?'

I know that whole 'don't talk to strangers.' But if someone famous came up to you and offered you a ride home, what person wouldn't say yes? So, I'm sitting in Buddy's car and his driver asks for my address, which I give to him and off we went. 'You got a nice shiner there, Paolo.' Buddy basically stated. I just nodded... I didn't really know how to respond to it. Buddy pressed it though. 'Get that today?' A sentence I could give and answer to. 'Yeah... just some kid and a game and...' Buddy nodded. Even if he had no idea who Timmy was, I think he got a pretty good idea of what went down in the alleyway. The familiar neighborhood I had gotten use to the past seven months came into view and Buddy said to me, 'You know, kid, a man should learn to sail in all winds.' At first, I didn't know what he was talking about. It sounded crazy to me at first. I was in fourth grade after all. That proverb stuff flew over my head, I got enough of those riddles at home. 'Uh, thanks' I remember say right as the car rolled to a stop. I said thanks and got out, scratching my head just wondering. Did I need to lose something to feel a win? Will I win in the end now that I 'sailed' a lose?

I get it now. Thanks, Buddy."

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[Paolo Giovanni]

it's the end of the summer and
paolo has said goodbye to his
girlfriend and valkyrie and moved
to los angeles to get settled into
ucla. little does he know, his father
has a few extra curricular activities
the college (and the police) would
definitely not approve of.

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instead of going to the college campus and meeting his roommate like any other normal college freshman, the family car drove paolo, his mother annora, and younger brother constantino, to the giovanni mansion. aka, homebase in los angeles. "i don't why we can't just go move me in and then go see the rest of the family." the rest of the 'family' being everyone close and loyal enough to live in the giovanni mansion, so being his actual relatives, and others... most he use to think they were his uncles. annora tsked next to him. "stop being a bambino," she said calling him a baby, which was always strange for paolo to hear italian coming from his irish-accented mother. she learned italian, obviously, years ago when she lived in italy. when they moved to america though, unless she was around fausto's family, she spoke in english. every time they were going to los angeles, she'd start brushing up on the language on the ride over. it was actually the first time annora was speaking italian since the last time they were in los angeles. for angelina's funeral. paolo decided to look out the window again, trying to suppress thoughts of his dead sister. "everyone's excited to see you, paolo." he heard the hesitant warmth in her voice because- "gee, i wonder why." constantino murmured with his hands folded across his chest. "wonder what padre will get you. your own irlandese or messicano," paolo gave his younger brother a sharp look. it was no secret the giovannis had enemies with the irish and the mexicans in los angeles. the only allies they had were the sirens, and even then, there was always some sort of competition for money, drugs, and sex. as annora scolded him for saying such things. constantino looked at paolo though. they both knew being a giovanni in los angeles was dangerous. especially if paolo was pretending he wasn't like this... like the rest of his family.

but then, why move to los angeles for college? yeah, ucla was a great school. so was vu. and the university in valkyrie would get a leg up in the competition always since sam lived in valkyrie. paolo would be lying if he said he wasn't expecting anything upon moving here. that's kind of why he agreed to go to school here. he wanted ... something. perhaps he'd get it here. "siamo qui," annora told her sons they were here, now speaking full italian to warm up her social skills. paolo looked up at his second child hood home. in the middle of los angeles, this one spot could remind any italian like they were back in italy. naples, for the giovannis. yeah, it might be a mansion, but the old villa feel made it seem more like home than the spacious piece of architecture back in valkyrie. the driver parked at the front entrance on the stone circular driveway and opened the door for the three. paolo didn't even make it up to the second step before the front doors bursted open and his older brother, alberto, had a big grin on his face like he hadn't seen them in years. the second one out was fausto. paolo's father and head of the giovanni mafia family. two big roles and the guy seems to be doing fine managing both of them. fausto doesn't come out at grin-y as alberto did. he's a bit more reserved, looking more around the perimeter of the property than at his family. like there's someone out there watching him. the defensive shield passes and fausto turns to his sons and wife and greets them, giving annora a warm kiss and manly hugs to paolo and constantino.

there must be some big gio family reunion because there were a lot of people in side the house. always absent though was paolo's estranged uncle, antonio, who fausto refused to talk about saying that his younger brother betrayed the family. the rooms filled with italian, english, and laughing. fausto chauffeured paolo around from relative to relative to the occasional 'uncle.' about an hour into mingling and eating fausto called paolo and alberto into his study. he closed the door as his eldest two songs entered. "sedere, sedere," fausto said motioning to the chairs in front of the desk. paolo sat down but alberto stood, leaning against the wall, right behind fausto who sat at the throne he probably orders hits in. fausto cleared his throat and started talking, "i'm really happy you chose ucla to spend the next four year, figlio," paolo gave a shrugged smile, "ringraziamenti. i'm happy too," he replied, thanking his father. "but you also got to think what else you want to do for the next four years. with... the family."

shit, they don't waste time.

paolo looked at alberto, who just stood against the wall, arms folded. though paolo was beginning to like the idea of joining the gios, second thoughts clouded his mind, and it obviously showed on his face. "are you turning your back on the famiglia?" paolo shook his head. "no, no, dad. i'm just trying to..." paolo didn't really know what to say and thank god fausto said. "tell me, how is sam?" paolo wasn't expecting that question. "she's fine," the brunette (almost) college freshman said. "do you love her?" paolo nodded, "more than she knows." paolo obviously didn't see that fausto was using him. "then you need to make a decision. either stay here and learn to protect your donna, or go back to valkyrie and become a walking target." and with that, fasuto took something out of the drawer in his desk and slid it to him. it was a pistol. paolo picked it up, frowning. his father got up and alberto kicked himself away from the wall. "al will show you the ropes. we'll have you collecting in a week," fausto stopped right next to paolo's chair. his father (or boss, paolo couldn't tell) put a hand on paolo's shoulder and squeezed it. then, he left with alberto in tow. and just like that, paolo was in. forever in until he died. that was quick. but within the five minutes that took from being a new college freshman and a new solider to the giovannis, he felt like he lost himself. also in those five minutes he broke his promise to sam in becoming what he didn't want. ironic since he was doing this for her. to protect her. paolo picked up the gun, stared at it intensely before getting up and facing the doorway. he stuck the gun into the back of his waistband and walked out the door. paolo was gone. and i'm not talking physically.

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[Violetta Giovanni]

part one - taken.
when violet was fifteen, she was
taken by the irish mafia in and held
captive for three days because the
irish was trying to get information out
of her to get back at the giovannis.

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"very good violetta, i'll see you tomorrow, ok?" violet finished zipping her bookbag up before looking up at her instructor. mrs. sparrow was an artist that gave lessons to violet everyday after school. "yeah, see you tomorrow!" violet smiled and swung her bookbag over one shoulder. she waved goodbye and left the old, but renovated apartment building. they were up on the seventh floor so she took the elevator down. the fifteen year old bounced lightly on the balls of her feet. her ride was probably picking luca up from his photography class right now and going to drive the few blocks to pick her up. violet looked at the purple watch around her wrist as the elevator binged open. 2:55 pm. the usual black cadillac would be there in five minutes. exactly. sometimes, violet tried to bet against herself to see if her ride would be there at 2:59 or 3:01. never. it was always 3pm. luca was always in there, sitting directly behind the driver's seat and they always drove back to ther house to finish up homework.

violet pushed the building's door open and to her surprise, the black caddy was parked curbside right in front of her. she looked at her watch again, wondering if she read it wrong, or she goof around from the elevator to the door and it took five minutes. 2:56 pm/ nope, her ride was early. she bounced up to the tinted window, smiling. she was ready to make fun of albie (the driver) for being early for once. "you're early today!" she yelled, giggling as she threw the backseat passenger's side door open. she slid in immediately, her outer hand pulling the door shut. "how was class-" she turned her head expecting luca. it wasn't luca. it was some guy she never saw before in her life. she felt the pit of her stomach fall to her feet, her throat tightened, and her eyes grew big.

shit.

in one quick motion, she threw the bookbag with all her school things into the man's direction. violet quickly turned her torso towards the door, her hands flew frantically to the handle. she pressed all her body weight against the car's door. it opened and she screamed, "HELP!" at the stop of her lungs. she then felt a massive hand on the back of her head, grabbing her from her hair and pulling her back into the car. she screamed again as her captor yelled in a gruff voice, "what are you waiting for?! fuckin' drive!" the door was still wide open as her faux ride sped away from the curb, the gray cement turning into a blur in a matter of seconds. the man still had her hair tangled in his fist as violet screamed towards the sidewalk. why wasn't anyone helping her? her kidnapper reached over her, pulling her back as he edged forward, he grabbed the handle and the door slammed shut, shutting out any chance of escaping too. but her fight was far from over. she started kicking and shoving. slapping. anything that caused the biggest struggle. her father taught her that. "jesus christ, shut the bitch up." the driver of the car yelled as the car swerved, making major lane changes. with every turn the car made, violet and the man both flew toward a certain side of the car. as she was pushing and slapping, she saw the man had a four-leaf clover tattoo on his neck. double shit, this was the irish mafia... her family's biggest enemies.

"no! get off me! stop!" the real terror was setting in. this wasn't just a kidnapping. this was the irish, which meant a well-sought out plan. pretending to be her ride, they've been follwing them... her. but why her? she was just a pion in the grand family of the gios. by now, violet was pinned to the back seat lengthwise as this buff dude loomed above her, pinning her down at the hips. then his hand encircled around her throat and she started choking. this guy was going to choke her to death in the back of a black cadillac and dump her body on a street corner as a message to her uncle. she started reaching for anything around her with one hand, the other one digging into his wrist. the driver swerved again and must have looked behind him because he said, "shit. don't kill her! we're not suppose to!" as her breathing became shorter and dots entered her vision she saw the man look away and say something to the driver. with his head turned, violet's fist tightened around the middle seat's seat belt and she drove it up and into the guys face, buckle first.

he roared in pain and released his hold on her throat. violet's hand went to her throat, coughing and rubbing it as she tried to sit up and fight some more. "fuck. no one told us you were going to be a little fighter." violet started kicking again. but it was no use this time around. since trying to restrain her did no good, they were going to have to use force. vy didn't even see the fist, all she felt was a warm hand hitting her jaw and the cold impact of glass window against the other side of her head. then she was out.

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[Violetta Giovanni]

part two - connor.
when violet was fifteen, she was
taken by the irish mafia in and held
captive for three days because the
irish was trying to get information out
of her to get back at the giovannis.

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violet was out for quite a long time. long enough that the rest of the ride was silent. long enough that from the car to the basement, she didn't come to. she was still out when her kidnappers handcuffed her to the pole in the middle of the basement. leaving her on the cold, hard, floor, the two men walked up the stairs and shut the door behind them. another hour went by until violet finally woke up. the back of her head was on fire and as she tried to reach it, her arms jerked against the immovable pole she was now handcuff too. "what is going on?" she thought, confused. violet couldn't remember what happened at first. she was scared. she was attached to a pole and her she was having a major headache. violet squeezed her eyes shut as she remembered hitting her head against a window. and slowly, all the events fell into place. she was at art lessons and the car she got into wasn't her families, two irish gang members kidnapped her... and now she was here. at this realization, violet started to cry. hyperventilate was to be more exact. she was freaking out to the point of hysteria. violet looked at her surroundings. it was a pretty spacious basement, but it was not furnished. a card table and chairs here, an ancient looking freezer there. she spotted stairs in front of her, leading up to a door. she yelled out, "help!" but held her lips together the moment she said it. that probably wasn't a good idea.

five seconds later, the door swung open. her stomach kept dropping at every sound of a heavy boot on the steps. "scream all you want. no one will here ya." accented. irish. her conclusions of being kidnapped from the irish gang were confirmed. a man stopped in front of her and crouched down to her level. she was hugging the pole tightly, her legs scrunched up beneath her. the light from upstairs reflected the four-leaf clover tattoo on his neck. he caught her looking at it and said, "well, now you know who we are. i'm connor." violet stayed silent as she studied connor as a whole. he was pretty big, built, probably worked out when he wasn't causing troubles for her family. he had big eyes, dark she assumed from the lack of light. she could tell he had the five o'clock shadow going on with dark brown (or black) hair tossed around like he didn't care what it looked like, but secretly, he probably did.

"why so shy? my buddies told me how you were a handful in the car." violet looked away, and concentrated her gaze on the freezer in the corner. "my family is going to find me," she said not looking at him. connor let out a very deep laugh, sending shivers down her spine. "i'm hoping. i wonder how far fausto giovanni would go for one of his own. more specifically, his own blood." fausto was her uncle, and the head of the giovanni mafia in los angeles. violet's father, vito, was in the mafia business too. violet wondered if they were looking for her now. how long was she out for? "you italians. always talking about your wonderful family values and home cooking... but how much of that is true?" violet still wasn't looking at him. just counting the seconds backwards until she was going to start crying again.

then she jumped as his hand closed around her chin and yanked her head towards his. now her eyes were forced on his as he said, "when i'm talking to you, you look at me." they were both silent as there was a tensioned-filled moment as they looked at each other. he didn't let go of her either. then cocked his head to the side as he moved her head from one side to another. "you know. you are a lot prettier in person than in the pictures, violetta." it was the first time he said her name. violet never gave him her name. the fact that he was saying he saw her in pictures, and knew her name meant she was on this unknown list for awhile. "my-my pictures?" she said, wondering if what she was thinking were true. connor let go of her and said, "the ones we took from you. taking note of your daily schedule. we were-" "stalking me." she finished for him. connor smiled at her. some sick, evil smile. he pointed his index finger at her, shaking it. "i knew you were a smart one." connor got up and started walking towards the stairs. "you should get some sleep. you got a long day tomorrow." violet furrowed her eyebrows as connor walked up the stairs. wait, what was going on? once he reached the top of the stairs, he started closing the door which was serving as the only light source she had. shutting it completely, she was in darkness.

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[Luca Giovanni]

click the picture! =D