Bella Mafia

by Sienna Mynx

  Mirabella steeled herself for the first visitor.

  In walked the man who Eve called Santa. He wore dark grey, dingey, overalls and a long white beard that reached to the middle of his chest. He removed the cap as a show of respect to reveal a shaven head. He stepped in with an envelope in his hand. Behind him entered a lean young man with a bright gold and blue Versace shirt. He wore a thick gold chain around his neck, and small gold hoop earrings in both ears. He had so many jewels in his watch, they glistened like twinkling lights when he moved his wrist. His dark hair was slicked back into a braided ponytail, tied by a corded band at his nape. He had a brownish-olive skin tone, and deceptive eyes. He looked to be no more than twenty-five. And he was flanked by two young women who seemed oddly overdressed for the weather. They doubled up on long sleeve shirts and wore baggy sweat pants.

  “Donna Battaglia, è un piacere conoscerla,” Santa said it was his pleasure to meet her before he placed an envelope of money on the desk. “Sono, Roberto Bianchi.”

  Mirabella showed no outward interest or impression that the money pleased her. The other man stepped forward. He pressed his palm with splayed fingers to his heart. He had too many gold nugget rings on his fingers. “Donna Mirabella, it is my honor that we finally meet,” he said in English. His attempt at annunciating the words seemed rehearsed. Had he practiced for this face to face meeting? “I am Malvo. I’ve known Don Giovanni for many years. He’s my hero. It is my honor to finally be invited beyond the gates of Melanzana.”

  Mirabella cast a wary look over to Dominic, who stared on. Malvo then snapped his fingers and the woman to his left stepped forward to drop a thicker envelope of money on her desk. No one moved. No one spoke. Eve reached for the envelope and touched it. He stepped in closer. Leo’s hand went to his shoulder, and the encroachment was stopped.

  “Why have you come here?” Mirabella turned the question to the kind elderly man.

  She listened to a story of harassment that had begun the day news of Giovanni’s shooting was made public. The old man’s voice was strong, but his hands held an arthritic quiver that he tried to hide by rubbing them together. This Malvo person was some kind of gypsy king. He was out of Napoli, and confined to the dark thieving business her husband dabbled in. They were now robbing customers, spitting on store keepers, and harassing tourists in Sorrento. Mirabella listened to tales of children as young as three on the streets at all hours, begging and rummaging through garbage cans. And lastly, Roberto was threatened. A red X was painted on the front and back doors of his store.

  “What do you have to say to this?” Mirabella asked.

  Malvo smirked. He glanced to Dominic and Rocco. It was either their docile stature, or her sitting before him with her daughter in her lap that gave him the false bravado.

  “I asked you a question,” Mirabella repeated. “Are these things I hear true?”

  “Giovanni approves; I answer to him.”

  Before the comment could settle in the room, Leo stepped forward and delivered a bone crushing blow to the young man’s back that dropped him to his knees. The women with him hissed like snakes at Leo. Her guard spoke in a language that Mirabella didn’t know, in a voice leveled with so much venom it was as strong as another slam. Still Dominic and Rocco showed no sign of reaction.

  Mirabella was aghast. The women stepped back as if in fear of Leo. And Malvo didn’t rise. Mirabella was almost certain that he was warned to stay in his bowed position. All Mirabella could hear was staggered, deep breaths.

  Eve, sat still. She observed with no real look of shock or surprise. In fact, she looked fascinated. That too worried Mirabella, so she acted immediately.

  “Leo,” Mirabella cleared her throat. “Take Eve and the children out in the front to the gardens. Let them play there under the supervision of Nico and the other men. Please.”

  “No, Mommy! I want to stay!” Eve protested. She pointed a finger at the man bowed before their desk. “Sei proprio un bambino cattivo—you are a bad boy!”

  “That’s it, Eve. Go with Leo. Now!”

  Dominic removed his gun and stepped in Leo’s place, ready to deliver any message Mirabella wished sent. Her daughter continued to glare at the man who refused to lift his head or acknowledge the room. A strange difference from the defiant way he entered. Leo walked over and plucked Eve from Mirabella’s lap. Her daughter hugged his neck, and her eyes met with her mother’s. She had the eyes of her father. Leo left. Mirabella stood.

  “Look at me.”

  Malvo lifted his head. He glanced up at her. The room remained silent.

  “I remember you,” Mirabella said.

  He wore a scowl of disapproval still. The man couldn’t even fake respect, when his life depended on it. She feared this would be the reception she would receive from many in Giovanni’s absence.

  Mirabella began to speak with a patient smile. “Five years ago, I was new to Italy. Very naïve in how things were done in Naples. One day while crossing the street with a friend, a Vespa sped through cars and traffic lights headed straight for me. On the back was a kid, a young one. He wore a helmet so I couldn’t see his face, but he was young. That kid grabbed my purse so hard he broke the strap and ripped it from my arm.” Mirabella walked around the desk. “I thought he didn’t know who I was. Didn’t care who I was. Just a random act of violence. I had lived in New York, and had escaped violence from Virginia. I knew what people were capable of. And normally I wouldn’t care about a purse. Normally I would just be grateful to be alive. But there was something special in that purse.”

  Mirabella touched her wrist. The golden bracelet given to her by her father was nestled between the diamond bracelets given to her by her husband. Malvo looked at the bracelets and diamonds with lust. He was a thief after all.

  “Giovanni and I had not met. He owned my building. He owned that thief. So, he was aware of my naiveté, and he came to my rescue.” She recalled how surprised and seduced she was when her husband returned her bracelet. He never admitted that he was the cause of the purse snatching, but Mirabella had learned a lot about how tenacious her husband could be when he wanted something. “He became my hero when he caught the purse snatcher. The woman I was just thought it miraculous. But the Donna before you today knows different. My husband makes miracles, they don’t just happen. Do you remember this story?”

  The young man nodded.

  “Of course you do. Because you sent that young man after me that day. Didn’t you?”

  His eyes stretched with surprise.

  “Don’t bother denying it, Malvo. My husband eventually didn’t.”

  Malvo lowered his gaze, but didn’t speak.

  “Today you walked through this door, knowing exactly who I am. And you insulted me.”

  “I did... I meant no insult, Donna Mirabella. Forgive me. It won’t happen again.”

  Mirabella smiled. “Giovanni is healing, and until he decides to return to this office, I am here in his place. But my presence doesn’t mean that anything in your world has changed. You and your clan will make amends to Roberto Bianchi. You will clean the red X from his doors—publicly. You will repair any damage to his store—publicly. You,” Mirabella looked to one woman who stood to the left of her boss. “You will do dishes and mop floors for one month every day at Roberto’s shop until the stench and stain of your spit and trash dumping is cleansed away.”

  “And you...” she addressed the other woman. “You will provide the same service to the other merchants on the street—for free. Start with the stores next to Roberto’s and work your way to the end of the block. All of this is to be done without complaint or deviation. And if it isn’t, I will be very displeased.”

  The women nodded.

  Malvo nodded.

  “Stand him up, Domi,” she said.

  Malvo was brought up from his knees.

  “Have the men escort him and his ladies off the property. He is not to return to Sorrento, or any hamlet south of Naples. If you do, we won’t
have a conversation about discipline. It won’t be needed.”

  “Yes, Donna.”

  “Grazie, Donna Mirabella!” Roberto came over and kissed her hand. She smiled for him. She turned to the table with the stack of money envelopes. She picked up Roberto’s. His eyes stretched with surprise. She placed the money gift into his arthritic hands. “This is for your troubles and the insult. You will pay no taxes for a month. Not until your store is wiped clean from this incident.”

  “Donna Mirabella... this is too generous!” the old man said.

  She glanced to Dominic who almost looked pleased. And then to Rocco who gave her a nod of approval. She leaned in and kissed Roberto’s left than right cheek. “It is your support and loyalty that keeps my family strong. And you will never be in fear of us. We are here to protect you. Right? That is what the taxes are for.”

  “Sì,” he said.

  “Then take the money.”

  “Grazie! Tante grazie!”

  Roberto left. Mirabella glanced over to Rocco. He walked over to her with his cane. And then he gave her the first smile she’d seen from him that day. “Well done.”

  “Do you think I’m ready for tonight?” she asked.

  Rocco looked to the door. His pause gave her deeper concern. This was petty business compared to the meeting with the Camorristi. Rocco then turned his gaze to her. “That will be a different test.”

  “Thank you for waiting,” Mirabella said.

  The doctor turned away from the window. She was observing Mirabella’s children playing in the garden. Several of the visitors Mirabella had seen that day came with kids. They were allowed to play with Eve and the twins under the watchful eyes of men with guns. That must have been a sight for the doctor.

  “Thank you for calling me. Like I said on the phone, I’ve been really interested in meeting with you. I know the last time we spoke we-”

  “Please, have a seat,” Mirabella said.

  “Oh, yes, okay.” Sera took a seat in the chair that faced her. One of the servants brought in a trolley with tea. Mirabella offered and then accepted a cup. Sera accepted hers, but didn’t take her eyes off her.

  “How is your husband? The news reports said he was shot?”

  “He was.”

  “Oh? And?”

  “He’s recovering.”

  “How are you? The nightmares, the anxiety attacks? Are they getting worse or better?”

  “It’s not a matter of concern any longer,” Mirabella said and sipped her tea.

  “Oh? I thought...”

  “That I’m a real head case now that my husband has been hurt? I think the jury is still out on that one,” she said with a smile. “No doctor, I’m the same—no better and no worse. I have a different problem, however, and I think you can help me.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Do you remember Dominic? The man who came to see you about me? He’s my husband’s adopted little brother.”

  “I remember him. I spoke to him when I called to check up on you.”

  “He’s been through a lot. And not just with my husband’s issues, with his own.” She set the tea cup down on the saucer. “I want you to meet with him. Help him sort out his issues.”

  “Can I ask what are these issues?”

  “Drinking, nightmares, anxiety, things of that nature,” she said.

  “Has he seen a therapist before? Is he, uhm, open to it?”

  Mirabella smiled. “No one in my family is open to the idea of therapy unless it’s for me. To answer your question... No. He has not agreed to it, nor has he seen a therapist before. But he will see you. I’ll make sure of it.”

  “Well I...?”

  “Though, you living in Firenze does pose a problem. We’ll need you to be close. I’m turning my home into a hostel of sorts.”

  “I don’t follow?”

  “My husband will have the remainder of his care here.” She glanced up to the ceiling. “The third wing is where he will be with the doctors. I will make a room available for you there as well.”

  “That’s generous, but...”

  “I also want you to spend a little time with my baby girl Eve. She’s... sensitive to the recent events in her life. I want to make sure she has the balance she needs.”

  “Mirabella, please slow down. I’m not a child therapist. My specialty was really centered around neurology and...”

  “Are you refusing?”

  “No. I’m simply saying that this is not my area of specialty, and if a patient doesn’t want therapy then you can’t force it.”

  “Eve is four, and Dominic has no choice. So, there will be no force or problem. It’s the offer on the table now. There are few people I can trust. My husband had already vetted you—so that makes you one of them. I’ll cover all expenses. Please consider it. I’d not only be grateful but generous if you can help. Think of what my generosity could bring you and your practice.”

  The frozen look of shock settled over the doctor’s face. Mirabella knew temptation when she saw it. She needed the doctor. Her family needed the doctor. She wasn’t prepared for her to say no. So, she stood and smiled as if the request was as simple as a dinner invitation between friends.

  “I have to leave. I have a meeting in Naples late tonight, and then a flight to Sicily in the morning. Plus, my husband will be arriving soon. My time is valuable. I will be back home on Friday. If you accept my offer I expect you to arrive then.”

  The doctor stood. She gave a slight smile as she extended her hand. “I’m the one that’s grateful for the opportunity, but please allow me the chance to consider.”

  “Friday is the day. If you don’t return I will consider that you have declined. Buona sera.”

  “Grazie,” the doctor said and shook her hand once more. Mirabella walked out. She needed Dominic strong. She needed her little girl unchanged by the horrors in their life, and she needed an ally. It didn’t upset her that the doctor looked and sounded like Fabiana. In a time like this it actually was a source of comfort.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Beauty and the Beasts

  Sorrento, Italy

  There was a knock at the door. Carlo stood in the kitchen drinking from the milk carton. Today was the first day he woke and felt like a man. Though, when he looked in the mirror at his half shaven head and the stitches along his skull, he appeared to be more like Frankenstein.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  Adara was in the shower. He could hear her lovely singing from there. He smiled. His nurse maid was quite good at soothing him.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  It wasn’t uncommon for knocks at his door. He had so many young men stopping by he tired of the act of cursing and chasing them away. He put the milk in the fridge and pulled out the plate of freshly sliced prosciutto.

  “Carlo! It’s Renaldo! Open up!”

  Carlo closed the fridge door. He walked to the door holding the plate. He’d called Renaldo’s house and was told by Renaldo’s surrogate mother that he and Kyra were moving today. Into Melanzana? That was strange. Now he was at the door? He opened it.

  “Where the fuck you been?” Carlo asked. He stuffed his mouth and went to the sofa to take a seat.

  Renaldo closed the door. “Did you not hear me knocking?”

  Carlo kept chewing and staring at his friend.

  “You look better. Feeling good?” Renaldo asked and took a seat in the chair across from the sofa.

  “As if you care,” Carlo grimaced.

  “I’m here now. Do you feel better?”

  “Today is a good day. Haven’t even had a headache.”

  “Bueno. Needed to hear that.”

  Carlo tossed the plate to the coffee table. “How is the boss?”

  “Not good. The Donna is moving him into Melanzana today. Heard she wanted you moved in as well.”

  Carlo scoffed. “Adara mentioned that. Yeah, fuck no. I’m okay now. Just need a little rest.”

  Renaldo’s gaze flickered up to
the scar on the side of Carlo’s head.

  “My hair will grow back. Until then I’m thinking of shaving my hair off. Makes me look more like a Butcher, don’t you think?”

  “You haven’t heard,” Renaldo said, and dismissed the humor.

  “Heard what? Is it Lorenzo? They found him?”

  “No. Vito. He’s dead.”

  Carlo paused.

  “What?”

  “Dead. You heard me, brother. He had a stroke. Turns out Rosetta was murdered. Her body left on the cliffs to be found. They told the old man, and he had a stroke or heart attack.”

  “What the fuck is going on? Who killed Rosie?”

  “Talk is that Catalina did it.”

  Carlo laughed. He winced and shook his head as the aftershock of pain that laughter caused lascerated his humorous mood. “No the fuck she didn’t. Butterfly doesn’t have the balls.”

  “I think butterfly does. And it gets worse. The clans are pissed that Gio took out the Benicias. They’ve already met. Twice. We weren’t invited.”

  “Fuck them.”

  “I hear they want to strike.”

  “Against Giovanni? He could be rotting in a casket and they wouldn’t have the balls. No fucking way!” Carlo sat forward.

  “We need you, brother. Mirabella is going to Secondigliano for her first sit down. And I’m not sure she will be safe.”

  “Giovanni would never allow it!”

  “Giovanni is frozen in a hospital bed, pissing and shitting into a bag. He’s out of it, brother. There’s no one standing. Rocco wants Mirabella to be the Donna. And so do I.”

  “Well she is the Donna, but not for that purpose. This can’t happen. The Camorristi won’t let her through the door.”

  “Permission has already been granted.” Renaldo said. “Thanks to Tacchini.”

  Carlo stroked his chin. He sat forward and thought on it. If the bosses wanted Mirabella to join them in Naples, in Secondigliano of all places, then it was a set up. “She can’t do this meeting.”

  “She can’t refuse. She has the Carabinieri at her heels. We’ve got millions in seized money and assets from the Benicias buried under our warehouses. The only reason someone hasn’t shown up at your door or Gio’s to take him out is because they want it all, and they know...”