by Sienna Mynx
“They’ve made a move.”
He then hung up. “Pack your shit. And pack something for me. We’re leaving.”
“Carlo? Who...what.. they...”
“Now!” he shouted at her. She kept the gun with her, but she did the best she could to gather their things. When she finally had a bag full of his and her stuff, she entered the living room and discovered four dead men. Blood covered the walls, floors and furniture. Carlo stepped over the bodies as if they were yesterday’s trash, forgotten.
“Andiamo!” he ordered her.
Adara had little time to think. She rushed out of the door.
Belinda told her first lie since she arrived in Italy. It was a small one, but it was still a lie. And for her lies were a gateway to behavior she had sworn off. At least that was what her pastor told her. Since she returned home her mother decided she needed therapy—spiritual therapy. So every Wednesday night before bible study she met with her pastor and he helped instill all the values and spiritual reasoning her mother thought she’d forgotten. She promised her mother she would change. Being chosen over her sister to come to Italy was her reward. And already she’d told a lie.
The place Mirabella called Melanzana was too great of a temptation. It’s grand prominence and stature of wealth should be the blame. She’d wanted to see the inside of it from the day she sat next to her father and cousins and watched Mirabella’s shocking news conference where she told the world she was not dead, but living with a man named Giovanni Battaglia.
Belinda collected every newspaper article she could find on the Battaglias and they were all mysteriously ominous. Before she actually met Mirabella’s husband she imagined him to be some ruthless criminal who had stolen her away.
“I thought you said you had to use the bathroom?” Minnie frowned.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, be right back,” she said coming out of her thoughts. That was another fault of hers. She was a daydreamer. At any moment in time she could drift on some silly conundrum and disappear into her inner self. She put on her tennis shoes. Her mother unpacked their suitcases and fussed over the things she’d forgotten.
“Need anything Ma?”
“A glass of water baby. I have to take my blood pressure medicine soon.”
“Okay,” Belinda slipped out of their room. A bathroom lie was harmless. So why had she told it? The minute she was in the hall the lie was forgotten and she was back on the mission. Search and discover any and everything she could about the world she fantasized over. Every door she passed she opened and peaked inside. There was nothing remarkable. She found most rooms were empty. When she reached the kitchen there were several women cooking and speaking in Italian.
“Hi, I, ah, I’m Belinda.”
Two of the women looked her way and the smiles they wore on their faces faded, they dismissed her.
A short round woman with a very long grey ponytail turned from the stove. She stared at Belinda like one would do an intruder, then a pleasant but not welcoming smile spread over her lips.
“Is there something you need Signorina?” the woman asked.
“Ahm, a glass of water for my mother.”
“Prego signorina,” The woman walked over to a cabinet and located a glass and then got some fresh water from a pitcher in the fridge. The kitchen was silent. The others worked dutifully but no one spoke. Belinda found that strange. Growing up in a big family, and in Apple Grove people were naturally familiar.
“Is there anything else?” the woman asked and Belinda knew she struggled with english. She handed the glass over.
“Thank you. That’s all I needed.” As Belinda left the kitchen she could hear the women behind her giggle. She knew when she was being laughed at. She’d experienced it enough when she reached the age of puberty and was as tall as her father. The girls teased her, the boys called her daddy long legs. It wasn’t until she went to college did she even consider her height and shape made her exotic. All her life she found herself awkward. Maybe that was why she rebelled and did the thing she did. To be noticed in a different way than the way she saw herself. That might be why she told so many lies too. She loved making up stories about herself and experiences.
Belinda decided to ignore the sting over the rejection from the staff and did a bit more exploring before she returned the glass of water to her mother. Where were the children? Where were the design studios where Mirabella made all of those pretty dresses and shoes? Where were the scary gangsters who carried guns and knives? Melanzana felt more like a mausoleum than a home. All she saw was staff and a few men inside with no guns.
“Hi,” a woman spoke.
Belinda’s head whipped left so fast her neck hurt. She glanced back to see another black woman standing before her holding an infant. That woman had braids in a similar style to her own. She wore black shorts and a green halter top. They couldn’t be that far apart in age.
Where did she come from?
The only black people Belinda had thought she’d meet would be Mirabella and Marietta.
“Ahm, hi,” Belinda said.
“You must be Mirabella’s cousin, Belinda, right?”
“Yes, that’s me. I ahm, everyone calls me Bee. You are...?”
“I’m Kyra,” she shifted the baby in her arms and extended her hand. “I’m a friend of Mirabella’s. I work for her.”
“Wait... I know who you are. I saw you on television. The big fashion show in Milan. You design shoes? You and that other black woman, I forget her name...”
“Jamie. Yes. We design shoes. Very good,” Kyra laughed.
“Oh my goodness!” Belinda gasped. “I loved your shoes in that show. The boots with the spikes all over and red bottoms were in all of the magazines. Marietta promised to send me some. I love them!”
“Want to try a pair on?”
“Huh?” Belinda frowned.
“What shoe size do you wear?”
Belinda looked down at her feet. “Ah, I’m tall... my feet are big. I wear... ah, an eleven.”
“Perfect!” Kyra grinned. “Just like Zenobia and the other models.”
“Really?” Belinda laughed.
Kyra nodded. “Models have big feet. Didn’t you know that?”
“No, not really.”
“Come with me. Come on,” She turned and walked away. Belinda put the glass of water down on the lamp table by the wall and caught up with her.
“Is she yours?” Belinda asked.
“Her name is Anissa. Yes, she’s mine.”
“She’s so tiny. Did you just have her?”
“I did. She’s our little angel. My mother in-law says I hold her too much. But I get anxious when she’s not in my arms. I never knew I could love someone so much, need her so much. I just never expected to feel this way about being a mother.”
They went back upstairs to the second floor. Kyra rocked her baby in her arms when the little one began to cry.
“I was on my way to my work studio,” Kyra said.
“So you live here too?”
“No, not really. I’m a guest.”
“Oh?”
Kyra led Belinda from the stairs to the halls. “Down there is where Mirabella and the children stay.”
Belinda saw the man who had brought them to Sorrento pacing before a closed door. He looked troubled. He then stopped pacing as if sensing he was being watched. He looked up and his eyes locked on her. They were the darkest shade of brown, darker than her own. He stared at her but didn’t smile or nod when she did.
“Don’t worry about him. His name is Leo. He’s harmless. If he’s on this hall that means either the kids or Mirabella are in their rooms.” Kyra said.
Belinda stared at Leo a bit longer. He didn’t blink. She turned and followed Kyra but when she looked back she saw Leo hadn’t moved, and he hadn’t stop staring at her.
“He looks kind of scary. What happened to his face?” she asked Kyra when they turned the corner and went down another hall.
“Huh? Oh? I think i
t was a childhood accident. Yea. That’s what Renaldo said.”
“The tattoos make the scars a bit more grotesque. Why would he do that to himself?”
“He’s actually nice. Don’t let the physical appearance worry you. Renaldo mentors him. He really likes him.”
“Who is Renaldo?”
“My husband.”
“Your husband is part of the family?”
“Yes. He works for them. That makes him part of the family. In southern Italy they refer themselves as a clan. So he’s part of the clan.”
“Oh? Is this clan… is it the Mafia?” Belinda asked.
Kyra stopped before a door. “What did you say?”
“Is this clan the Mafia?”
“No. This is a family, your family.” Kyra smiled and went inside the room first. Belinda peeked into the door. She stopped in wonder. There were six dress mannequins, two with half sewn dresses on them. There was a large sketch table and against the wall shelves with shoes in every color of the rainbow. Kyra walked over to a bassinet and put her sleeping baby down. Also in the room were boxes. So many there was no way to get to the other half of the room without climbing over them.
“Is this your room?”
“No. Well sorta. It’s Mirabella’s but I kind of moved in to do some work. Now let me see what we have for you.” Kyra went to the shelves and started checking shoes. Kyra walked over to the artist table and looked at the drawings. They were really good.
“How about these?” Kyra turned with two pair of boots. The heels on both were at least five inches.
“I’d be a giant in those things.”
“So what? I love your height.”
“No thanks. I’m tall enough.” Belinda smiled to not be rude.
“Really. I thought you liked the boots?” Kyra asked.
Belinda had lied to make conversation. Marietta had never promised to send her shoes. The lie came off her lips so easily she hadn’t even realized she told it. Now Kyra was on to her. She tried to double back. “I do, but it’s summer. I have a different style in the summer.”
“What is your style?” Kyra asked.
Belinda went to the wall of shelves and scanned the shoes. She picked up some flat thong sandals with tassels. “I like these.”
Kyra smiled but shook her head.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“Out of all those shoes on the wall those are the ones I didn’t design. I think they belong to Catalina. They’re from Capri.”
“Really?”
“Best sandals in the world can be made in two places, Florence and Capri. Maybe you will get to visit both during your stay.”
“Not likely, mama won’t go for it. I’m just here to help.”
“Well welcome to Italy. It’s like no place on earth.”
Belinda smiled. She liked Kyra, she seemed so genuinely nice. “Thank you. Maybe I can try those shoes on. Model them for you.”
Kyra nodded. “Deal.”
Lorenzo wheeled himself into Armando’s office. He found him seated in a smoking chair away from the desk. He watched some random sports show. Armando barely glanced up at him.
Armando sipped from his whiskey glass and continued to stare at the television. Lorenzo practiced patience and waited to be addressed.
“I agree with you. Something is wrong. Marietta would have called here by now,” Armando said. “Any idea why she hasn’t?”
“I have my theories,” Lorenzo grumbled.
“It’s time to share them,” Armando said.
“Mirabella may be shielded by Rocco and Dominic. Marietta is definitely being watched. It might be too early for her to risk a phone call.”
“That is one theory,” Armando said. “Do you have another?”
“Rocco and Dominic are testing me, purposefully keeping her from contacting me to see if I’d make a move.”
Armando sat up. “That’s my theory. Call her. Time for you to make contact with the family.”
“Not a good plan,” Lorenzo said.
“Do it!” Armando barked. “It’s been several days.”
Lorenzo had little patience for old grudges. He’d sent his pregnant wife into enemy territory. Every minute that ticked by and he didn’t hear from her, the more he worried for her. On top of that, his Catalina was upstairs praying for death. He wished for his leg to work again. He’d love to snuff out Armando with his bare hands. He had to bide his time. And that was the biggest test of his tolerance. Armando got up from his chair. He turned off the television and faced Lorenzo.
“I knew you wouldn’t do it. I didn’t have to eavesdrop on you and my sister to know you’re playing games with me.”
“I told you...”
“So I took care of some business for you. A little insurance so that we don’t get off course.”
Lorenzo frowned. “What business?”
“The unfinished business that got you pissing your pants. You left your gun behind. You left Carlo alive. Now you send my sister home to fix your fucking problems, and you’re too scared to check on her.”
“I sent her home because that’s where she belongs. Where Catalina and I will be going soon. The gun... doesn’t matter.”
Armando smirked. “Giovanni isn’t dead yet.”
“He doesn’t have to be. I know my family. I’m the person to handle this crisis. The only person. Now what did you take care of?”
“Carlo,” Armando said. “He’s the only witness to the shooting. Now he’s not your problem.”
“You took a shot at Carlo?” Lorenzo asked. “Are you fucking insane?”
The phone rang. Armando smiled. “You can thank me later.” He walked over to the phone and picked it up. Lorenzo watched him have a brief one-sided conversation. Armando hung up, but the smug look of superiority was not on his face.
“Let me guess. Your men missed their mark?”
Armando didn’t answer.
“You can’t send lambs into a lion’s den. I’m his best friend. I know his strengths and his weaknesses. You want control, Armando? Real power. Then you’re going to have to trust me to give it to you.”
Armando looked over to him. “No one can trust you, Lorenzo. My taking a shot at Carlo served two purposes. One, if I hit he can’t finger the shooter. Two, if I miss he knows he can’t trust you. I’m not keeping you alive to make you King of the Camorristi. I want it all. Everything Giovanni has. That’s power you will hand over to me. So don’t fucking think for one moment that I will ever trust you.”
He wheeled his chair over. “Right now Marietta is there, and I want to see my kid born. Trust in that. Instead of fucking around in Sorrento and letting the Dons here in Sicily take from you at every turn, let me step up and help. My way!”
The family welcomed Minnie from the start. After an awkward introduction between Minnie and Zia, Mirabella watched the women bond over Zia’s cooking as the family dined together. The normalcy was sobering. For a brief moment Mirabella was able to set aside all her anxiety and fears. Then her gaze lifted and travelled over to the gardens. From the terrace where they dined, she could see some of villa Rossa. Enough to remind her of the unfinished business left behind.
“Scusi, Donna,” Leo whispered in her ear. “Carlo is here, Rocco would like you and Dominic to join them.”
Before she could question the request, Mirabella looked up to see Adara walk in. The young woman with raven hair and peach-tinted creamy skin was introduced to several people and offered a seat at her family table. Adara looked her way. Mirabella observed her for a moment until the young woman lowered her gaze. She then pushed back in her seat and left Minnie to one of her wild stories about Mirabella as a young girl with the family. She followed Leo through the house to the office that Giovanni kept on the lower level. She could hear raised voices before she reached the door. Angry men shouted at each other. Carlo’s voice boomed over all others.
Mirabella walked in.
“Four motherfuckers! Four! They came through the
door shooting. That was a fucking hit! Lorenzo took a shot!”
“We don’t know what it is,” Dominic said.
“Vaffanculo!” Carlo charged toward Dominic and was stopped by Renaldo. Nico was the first to look up when Mirabella arrived. The other men took notice. The only man seated was Rocco. He had his cane to lean forward on.
“What happened?” Mirabella asked.
“Four motherfuckers came into my place with guns blasting. That’s what,” Carlo said. Mirabella looked him over. Carlo had shaved the hair off his head. It was shocking to see him that way, especially in the expensive silk suit after how hard his recovery had been on him.
“We think it could be from Mancini,” Nico said.
“Or it could be from Tacchini, the Camorristi, anyone, we don’t know,” Dominic said.
“It wasn’t Tacchini. The Camorristi would not strike this way,” said Mirabella.
“What makes you so sure?” Rocco asked.
The men all stared at her. Only Carlo paced with clenched fists. Mirabella crossed her arms. “Think about it. Why target Carlo? I was in Naples today. They all knew it. They could have easily come for me. Besides, the Camorristi are too busy dividing up territory given to them in the Bay.”
“Wait? What?” Carlo frowned. He glanced to his brethren and then to Mirabella. “We gave them territory in Naples?”
“It’s done,” Dominic confirmed.
Carlo’s gaze narrowed on Mirabella for an explanation, but he knew better than to ask for it. She didn’t blink. She continued. “Lorenzo knows that you are the only one to witness the shooting. He’s already sent Marietta here. I think he’s trying to shut you up.”
“If that were true, he wouldn’t do it that way. Lorenzo knows me. He knows I’d be prepared. It was an amateur mistake. An outsider mistake.” Carlo shot back.
“Maybe he didn’t want you dead,” Mirabella said. “Maybe he wants chaos. It’ll work to his favor if we are warring with everyone instead of uniting.”
Rocco cleared his throat and spoke next. “Lorenzo wouldn’t betray the family this way.”
Mirabella laughed. “Go upstairs and ask my husband about Lorenzo’s betrayal.”
