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We arrive in Lugano, Switzerland, early the next morning. I ended up only sleeping about an hour, choosing instead to spend the majority of the time tweaking and completing most of the Vegas hotel’s logistics. Like puzzle pieces, concepts and visions had been endlessly playing in my head for years. Now, the picture came together, and I have a clear vision on how it will all shape up. Luckily, I have never needed much sleep. As I had anticipated and to my relief, Angelo took advantage and slept through most of the flight.
Walking off the plane ahead of me with a pep in his step, Angelo is wearing his signature faded, ripped jeans complete with a black t-shirt. Even though he leads a pretty decadent life, Angel showcases his tattooed sleeves well. A Yankees cap covers the unruly identical ink hair. He wasn’t kidding about Sherri leaving marks all over him; his neck is covered. Nothing like branding him before he left. Adding to his rock star image, Angie wears Ray-Ban sunglasses while sporting a two-day shadow of a beard.
My personal preference is rarely going a day without shaving. Wearing dark designer jeans, along with either a white or black shirt fitted under an Italian blazer, usually completed my style.
Outside is a Mercedes G-Wagon SUV where Germano is waiting for us. “What’s up my man, G! Ready to place bets on the World Cup?” asks Angelo all in rapid mode, while not really expecting any response. Germano amuses him as usual and returns his fist bump.
Germano has been working for our family since before we were born. Playing the part of a benevolent grandfather figure, he had always entertained us when he wasn’t busy attending to my uncle’s or father’s needs. He taught us how to play Bocci Ball and poker and made us fans of soccer. While I’ve witnessed the signs of slight aging in him, he still stands strong, is good-natured, and is willing to indulge our wishes. We always know with no uncertainty that he will always be a loyal fixture in the family, especially to my father and godfather.
I give him a firm handshake. “Nice to see you, Germano,” and I quickly add, “I’m not responsible for his behavior.”
Waving it off and taking our luggage, Germano laughingly states, “Nonsense, Sir Santos, he is always very amusing.”
“See, Sonny, G accepts me unconditionally as should you. He gets me, he gets my humor.”
Raising his eyebrows in amusement, Germano congratulates me on receiving my degree. “Your family must be very proud,” says Germano.
“Thank you, I’m just happy to get away and relax a bit.” As Angelo has decided to take up rent of the whole back seat by assuming a lounging position, I end up sitting in the front. Actually, I don’t mind at all as I always look forward to conversing with Germano.
“I believe you will find all in order at the hotel, Sir Santos. The staff completed filling the list that Mrs. Ferrari provided. You will find the boathouse fully stocked.”
About an hour later, we approach the town of Menaggio. Just minutes later, we pull into the driveway of the Hotel Ferrari. She never ceases to amaze me. Overlooking Lake Como, the hotel’s magnificent facade evokes the grandeur and elegance of a bygone era. She is like an old grand dame. The lakeside terrace café, as well the indoor restaurant, offers delectable Italian cuisine from the Lombard region. A fourth-floor outdoor bar boasts one of the most beautiful panoramas in the world. The hotel is a place that offered peace and tranquility, along with being a destination for the privileged.
Inside, everything has been renovated and given a fresh and contemporary feel. It features every modern amenity along with a sophisticated design. My family has two separate apartment residences on the top floor of the five-story hotel. My parents and uncle usually occupy them when they are in town. We all did until as teenagers we outgrew the space. Also, wealthy paying customers didn’t seem to appreciate young boys running amuck. For everyone’s sanity, changes were made. The grounds boast a beautiful, old, three-story, yellow stone boathouse overlooking Lake Como. It is off to the side and set away from the hotel itself. During our teenage years, my father decided to have it totally remodeled in order to accommodate three rambunctious sons. It became our residence while in town.
At the time of the renovation, I expressed a keen interest in helping design the restoration. My father reluctantly allowed me to work with and shadow the architects. It came to be my epiphany. It confirmed my future choice of courses at university. While I was strongly urged to go into the finance field, that first project made me realize I wasn’t just interested in black and white. I had a deep desire and need to be creative. Whether it was restoration or a brand-new project, it fulfilled a need within me. A compromise was reached, and dual degrees were completed.
The first floor of the lake house is completely open space. In the center is a pool table that divided the living room and a small kitchenette. The living room has a seventy-five-inch TV ideal for gaming and three plush couches. The second floor includes two large master suite bedrooms. I opted for the smaller third floor suite as my personal space, preferring some much-needed solitude at times away from my two brothers. Besides, I had to admit it had the best view of Lake Como. The view of the lake, dotted with sailboats and speedboats, never grows old. On a clear day, a person can see across the lake to the Alps. Alongside the boathouse is a long dock that held a variety of water toys for the family’s personal use. The hotel itself has belonged to the family for years. It was my grandfather’s first business opportunity. When he passed away, he left it to his two sons. This is the one property to never be sold as per my grandfather’s will.
Hopefully, it would continue to be run by a Ferrari for generations to come. For many reasons, being in this place more than any other gives me a sense of nostalgia.
Stepping out of the vehicle, I give my body a much-needed stretch. While Germano and the staff take our belongings to be put away, Angelo and I decide to grab a quick bite to eat on the terrace before heading to the boathouse.
Socialites from all around make their appearance known in the summer. My brothers always took full advantage of the high-end private partying that took place in the various palazzos and villas that dotted the coastline. I was into sailing, playing piano, and long motorcycles rides. Father had gifted me with an RS Elite twenty-one-foot sailboat with full keel years ago for one of my birthdays.
Spending time sailing with the sun on my back and wind in my face or riding my collection of motorcycles around the winding roads along Lake Como are the things I most enjoy. Evenings, I often prefer the solitude of playing piano in the lobby of the hotel or at one of my favorite small pubs in Mennagio.
Gazing at the lake makes my brother’s prattle difficult to follow. Sitting across from me, Angelo is inhaling all the food on the table. He burps and sighs, rubbing his stomach with great satisfaction. “So, Sonny,” he says, “I was thinking we shower, sleep for a couple hours, and then head out for the night. I’ll text Mateo and Sam to come here for dinner beforehand.”
I give him a perfunctory nod to make him think I was keeping up with his babble.
“Is it me or is the staff hotter than last year? Look at that one over there,” Angelo continues, while pointing out a beautiful blonde.
Finally, drawing my gaze to Angelo, I have to admit I should be used to this as it happens whenever any of the brothers get together in public. Looking at the various people around, I can see the young female staff and customers ogling us while trying to appear nonchalant. Angelo’s affable smile along with his tats seem to ooze raw sex appeal. Once he turns his considerable charm on women and some men, they are enthralled. Drawing my eyes toward the blonde he mentioned, I had to keep from laughing. She was ogling back at him like he was a special cut filet.
Wiping my mouth with my napkin, I stand up pushing the chair back. “I’m heading to the boathouse to shower and sleep.” I tell Angelo.
“Hey, wait up,” he says as he too jumps up and strides to catch up with me. Walking toward the boathouse always gives me great satisfaction. It will always be my proudest piece of architectural work. Walking to the entrance, I look up at the lintel above the doorway of the boathouse. My mother placed a carving of an Italian saying, Chi dorme non piglia Pesci (Those who sleep don’t catch any fish). We had always believed Mother was humorous with that quote, knowing none of her sons were serious fisherman. Secretly, I always believed she meant it in the true way. If you are lazy and just wait for something to come to you, without working to reach your goals and seize opportunities, you won’t ever actually obtain anything.
Angelo walks inside ahead of me. “Yes! G man filled up the Smarties jar. Ahh, the small touches. G-man really loves me,” he yells to me.
“I’m going up.” I bellow back. “Text me the plans for tonight.” Not waiting to hear his response, I continue up the stairs. All I’m craving is privacy and some much-needed quiet until tonight. I find myself looking forward to seeing Mateo and Sam. However, I also know that high octane nights are in my immediate future. Finding time to slip away from them and enjoy a few of my own pursuits will probably prove to be difficult for me. While I enjoy their company, partying continually is just not my thing.
Stripping off my travel clothes, I step into the marble shower. Immediately muscles that had been tight from the long flight relaxed. Ahh yes, Angelo, I thought, agreeing with him, sometimes it is the small things. Once finished, I step out, dry off, and wrap a soft towel around my waist. Gazing back at my reflection, I am once again aware of how much a Ferrari I am. The looks that attract women to my brothers also grace me. Yet unlike my brothers, I had long ago learned to ignore women ogling me. Not that I do not appreciate good-looking women. There just have not been many who were special in any way. They all seem to look alike and certainly seem to stereotype the typical jet setters. Once in a while, I will find someone who interests me. But it had a pattern that faded into nothing.
I cross over to the large window to once again admire the majestic view before I close the blackout blinds. All too soon, Angelo and the guys will start ongoing texts about where and what we will be doing that night. I send a quick text to my mother and father before I plug in the phone and switch off the sound. Laying down, I start rehashing the past twenty-four hours before my eyes start to get heavy and I drift off.
A few hours later, I’m woken up by loud stomping and shouts coming up the stairs. Disoriented for a few seconds, I rub my eyes. The door swings open, and there is Mateo, Sam, and Angelo loudly singing, “Wake up, Golden Boy.” Knowing exactly what’s coming next, I quickly cover the family jewels. All three of them leap on me in greeting.
“All right, all right. I’m up already!” I yell.
“We missed you,” says Mateo, as he gives me a big bear hug.
“Get dressed, and let’s get going!” yells Angelo. He opens the shade before stomping back down the stairs with Sam following.
Mateo rolls over to the other side of the bed, still laughing. Since my eighteenth birthday, it is rare for Mateo and me to see one another. We text weekly and video occasionally, but I was too busy the past few summers with business in NYC to go traipsing off to Europe. And apparently, he was being kept busy in Europe. I was hoping to renew the closeness we had in the past during this vacation.
Throwing off the covers, I walk to my closet to get dressed. Pulling on a pair of jeans and a white button-down, form-fitting shirt, I’m ready in a few minutes. I grab my watch and phone, and I follow Mateo down the stairs.
“What’s the plan for tonight?” I ask.
“Not sure what the girls have planned, nothing too nuts. I really glad you’re here for the summer Santos,” declares Mateo.
We end up eating dinner in the hotel restaurant before heading out. Germano orchestrated a feast, hoping that food before liquor would lessen the effects.
“Axel is working tonight and can’t leave the club, so we’ll go to him. He’s reserving a private section just for us. I need to take a wiz, and then let’s head out.” Angelo states dramatically, as he gets up and claps his hands with anticipation.