Bella Mafia

by Sienna Mynx

  “I made a mistake Ma, I learned my lesson.”

  “I know baby. But these people different. And I don’t mean different in a good way. These men around here are dangerous. So don’t go playing up you being grown. Just be yourself.

  “Ma, don’t worry so much. I’m just going to the beach. How much trouble can I get into? I’m almost twenty.”

  “I know. I know,” Minnie smiled. “You’re nineteen today. Almost ain’t quite enough. You’re not a little girl anymore. But I promise to stop treating you like one.”

  Belinda kissed her mother again and then hurried out before she suffered another lecture. The permission was granted for her to see Sorrento and its beaches but it could be revoked at any moment if her mother recalled the crimes that now prevented her from attending another university in the state of Virginia. Her Mama wanted her to be a doctor and Belinda was convinced she wanted the same thing at first. That was until she experienced the freedom of college. It tasted wild and exciting, like nothing she’d ever tasted in boring ass Apple Grove.

  “You ready for me?” she asked as she approached her escort who stood next to a car. He cocked his head to the side as if noticing something different about her. His dark gaze was hidden behind darker sunglasses. The sunglasses made his rough exterior kind of mysterious. And mystery was sexy to Belinda. Like most men at this place he rarely smiled. She wondered if his handsomeness would breakthrough if he smiled.

  “Si signorina,” Leo answered.

  A beast of a guy appeared from nowhere. Belinda’s head went back to look up at him as he blocked out the sun. Now this guy was handsome with the strength and beauty of Hercules.

  “Ciao, Belinda. I’m Nico. The Donna tells me that you are going to do some sightseeing today.”

  “Got my extra swimsuit right here!” She patted the straw bag under her arm.

  “I thought he was taking me, are you?” she asked.

  Nico chuckled. “No. I just want to make sure you have fun.” He glanced over to Leo and said some things in Italian. Leo nodded that he understood. Nico’s gaze returned to her. “You need anything, want anything, Leo will see to it.”

  “Uhm, okay. I have my own money.”

  “The Campania knows us well. Your money isn’t needed. Leo will make sure you have fun.”

  Leo opened the car door and held it for her. Belinda appreciated the formal gesture, but suspected the guy was covering all bases because his boss was watching. Belinda eased inside the car and the door slammed shut. She glanced over at Nico. Her mother said these were not good people. And though Nico looked like giants mated and had a baby, he had the friendliest smile. He winked at her and then turned and started back to the villa.

  The trip they would take to the beaches would be in a sporty red convertible. Belinda swept her braids up into a high placed ponytail as she made herself comfortable.

  “What kind of car is this?” she asked as her driver eased in behind the wheel. He started the engine and then drove them slowly out on the long driveway. He didn’t answer. It felt strange. For starters she was seated on the side of the car that typically you would drive from in America. She kept stumping her foot as if trying to break as he sped off the land. They arrived at the Melanzana gates. Men were waiting. The men exchanged looks and then one approached the car. Leo spoke to them in Italian and the permission was granted. She wished she knew the language. It reminded her of the Koreans back home that did her nails. Constant chatter about her that she couldn’t understand if it were friendly or not.

  “Do me a favor. Speak English more. Please. It’s hard to understand what’s going on.”

  He glanced over to her. She smiled.

  “You do speak English, Leo. You did last night.”

  “I speak Inglese,” he said.

  “Cool. Where are we going first?”

  “Swim or shop? The Donna says whatever you want. Choose,” Leo said.

  “Donna? You mean Mirabella? Really? Anything?”

  “Si. The boss tell me make sure you have fun I take you to her store, or others. Choose?”

  “Anything I want?” she repeated to herself.

  He glanced over at her and nodded. She liked his profile.

  “Gucci is Italian. Isn’t it?”

  “It is,” he said.

  “Take me to Gucci. I want a purse, wallet, and some shoes. Oh, and then take me to where I can buy some of Mirabella’s dresses and some of Kyra’s shoes.”

  He nodded and kept driving. Belinda looked around the car. It smelled new, but it looked weird. For starters he was driving on what would typically be considered the passenger side of the car in the states. It made her jumpy when he sped up and around passenger vans

  “What kind of car is this?”

  “Alfa Romeo Spider, it belongs to the Donna. Boss bought it for her birthday. She never drives it.”

  “It’s cute! Wait. Why doesn’t she drive it?”

  Leo didn’t answer.

  Belinda reached for the radio dial. She tried to find a station but it was all in Italian. She gave up. Leo didn’t seem to mind. He kept his eyes focused on the road. She didn’t care that he wasn’t a talker. He was the key to happiness as far as she was concerned.

  “Why do you people call her Donna? Her name is Mirabella.”

  “Donna means ‘lady boss’ when we say it for respect.”

  “Lady boss? I like that,” she smiled.

  “Are you in university?”

  “Do I go to college you mean?”

  He nodded.

  “Yes, I’m in college. I’m going to be a doctor. I studied Biology and Pre-Med.” Most people looked impressed when she dropped that on them. They like to hear that college students were going to be scientists, doctors or lawyers. But not this guy. His expression remained fixed on his face. She pushed a little further with her lie. “I’ll probably end up being a surgeon. My professors... they say I got potential.”

  She caught the sideways glances he gave her. He didn’t speak. Maybe that was just his way. A few questions to get someone talking so he didn’t have to talk. Well she had a few questions of her own.

  “How old are you Leo?” she asked. “And what happened to your face? Did you do all of that on purpose. Or... I can’t tell, if it’s on purpose or by accident.” She leaned forward. “The tattoo at the center of your neck under your chin. That one is cool. It’s a butterfly but the wings together make a skull. That must have hurt. Do you have more tattoos, on your body? Are you in the Mafia? Because I know that’s what Mirabella’s husband does. Mafia stuff. You a hitman or something? Or just a bodyguard and car driver? Do you have a gun?”

  He appeared to consider his options before speaking. She did ask him all her questions at once. “I give tour of the Amalfi. Take you to buy pretty things. And then we eat. I’ll tell you the story of my tattoos?” A slight smile drew across his face and disappeared when he glanced again in her direction.

  “Just the story of your tattoos?”

  “Don’t be disappointed Cara. The story answers all questions.”

  “Cara? That’s Italian isn’t it?”

  “It means sweetheart,” he replied.

  “Oh. Oh? That’s pretty.”

  There was no sign of this being an average or typical little adventure. Belinda tingled with excitement. She couldn’t wait. “You got yourself a deal!”

  The brown long-legged beauty made him nervous. There were rules in the family, and punishment was swift and brutal to those who broke them. Paolo and Raffaele had paid the price for breaking them. He would not make the same mistake.

  No matter the consequence he couldn’t deny how striking everything about her was. Leo told the sales woman to make her happy after handing over Mirabella’s business card. That was all the payment needed. He took a seat in a chair by the changing room while she tried on dress after dress. And to his surprise she modeled the dresses for him. The green one was the most daring. It hugged her slender curves and heaved up he
r medium sized breasts. The hem stopped at her thighs and when she turned it lifted a bit to show him more. That one he knew better than to buy and discreetly asked the sales woman to get rid of.

  After visiting seven of the highest priced boutiques he could find for her he was loaded down with bags. They returned to a side street he parked at and he forced the bags into the trunk. If she bought one more thing she’d have to travel with it on her lap.

  “Where we go? The beach?” he asked.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she asked.

  The question came from nowhere. She stood with her arms crossed and her mouth tight with anger.

  Leo frowned.

  “Are you okay in the head?” she spat the words at him.

  Leo’s eyes stretched. Now he was really confused. “My head?”

  “We’ve been shopping for two hours. I’ve modeled more dresses for you than I ever had for anyone. And you barely noticed. All you do is carry my bags and pay the bill. Can’t you have a simple conversation. We drove around all the little villages and you barely did anything. It’s all beginning to look the same.” She glanced back to the street. “You’re boring. This isn’t fun anymore.”

  “The beach?” he asked.

  “Screw the beach. I want some fun. I want to laugh. And see things. Or something. I want to see the mafia.”

  Leo laughed.

  “What’s funny? I’m interested. I plan to be a writer one day and this is stuff I can put in a book.”

  “I thought you said doctor?”

  “Huh?”

  “You go to university to be doctor; no?”

  “Oh, yeah, yeah, well doctors write books you know. Maybe I should ask Mama to come sightsee with me. Maybe that’ll be more fun than you.”

  “You want fun?” he looked her over.

  She nodded.

  “You think Mafia fun?”

  “I think it’s part of my family and I have a right to see it. To know about it.”

  “Aaah… la famiglia.”

  “Yes. Show me the family.”

  “Come,” he said. He turned and started to walk up the alley. He heard her trying to catch up. He glanced back at her and saw her slipping on the smoothed cobblestone road. He gave her his hand but she refused to take it. Leo smiled. He wouldn’t show her the Mafia but something very close to it.

  “Where are we going?” she huffed when she finally caught up to him. The walk was an upward climb. She grabbed his sleeve for support. He eased his arm around her waist and pulled her close enough to shoulder the burden.

  “You should eat. I take you to eat.”

  “But?”

  “Not Italian. Romani,” he said.

  “Roman? Isn’t that Italian?”

  He chuckled. “No. We Roma people are not Italian. You call us gypsies.”

  She stopped. “We?”

  “Roma’s are a mixture of cultures. We originate from India. The Italians call us zingari. They blame us for crime and poverty. But we just survivors. Not our fault. And we family. An even bigger and older family than the Mafia. We are everywhere. We see everything.” He pointed up.

  Her gaze lifted to the windows and balconies of the apartment homes on either side of the alley. Several were watching them. She hadn’t noticed. Now she did.

  “Come, let’s walk and talk,” he said. This time she took his hand. She kept glancing up at the windows and those peering down at them. He led her down another narrow alley. She was safe with him but the Roma’s, Sinti’s and Italians in this region had a very strained relationship. Not many tourists or locals outside of the community came this far. And with her being of brown skin she drew the attention of several people they passed. One drop of Giovanni’s name and any of them thinking she was prey would immediately back off. Belinda didn’t seem to notice.

  “Rom Boldo!” Several men cheered. A few held up drinks in toast to them. A few ate from paper cones. Leo spoke to them and waved. Belinda held tight to Leo’s hand as he greeted the men. They were surrounded by them. No one touched her but the men were so close she feared they would. Leo didn’t let her hand go as he hugged one man and then another. A few stepped back to look at her. She felt like running. But then Leo shoved his way through and pulled her with him to walk inside the restaurant. The music was loud but it came from somewhere to the back of the place. Several men were seated. She saw a few women but they seem to be serving.

  “Rom Boldo!” Another said and then spoke fast in a language she didn’t understand. Leo introduced her. The older man hugged her and patted her cheek. He then gestured to a table being cleaned for them to sit. They did. And plates and drinks were brought to them instead of menus.

  She gave up on trying to figure things out. And she had no clue what was served up to her in different bowls. None of it looked familiar but all of it smelled good.

  “Try this, it’s mixed with lamb. You’ll like it. And scoop it with this.”

  Belinda looked up at him and then down again to the food. Would he be insulted if she passed? She had a weak stomach.

  “It’s good. Taste.”

  She looked around the restaurant and saw several staring at her. She knew they would see it as an insult if she didn’t try. She followed Leo’s lead and ate with her fingers. It was creamy with a spicy aftertaste. Her brows lifted in surprised.

  Leo nodded and ate. She watched him and then mimicked his feasting from the bowls before them. He drank wine. She hesistated to do so. But he didn’t seem to care if she did or not, so she took down a big swallow and gagged. Several others laughed at her. Leo smiled.

  “Made here. By hand. You like. Eventually.”

  Belinda wiped her hand over her mouth. “They call you Rom Boldo? Is that your name?”

  “The name my friends gave me when Giovanni hired me and I became a Battaglia,” he said between swallows.

  “What does it mean? Does it have meaning?”

  “It means Ba'al protect the king,”

  She laughed. “Are you serious?”

  He stared at her and let his answer take root.

  “Wow. That is bad ass.”

  “Bad? Ass?” he asked.

  “A saying. Means you are a tough guy to them. Right?”

  He glanced at the men, some of the much bigger and meaner looking than him. He then looked to her. “Nope. I just protect the Queen. To them that makes me blessed.”

  “The Donna?” she said. “That’s the queen?”

  “Very good,” he nodded.

  “I’m catching on.”

  They continued to eat as more meat was brought to the table. She particularly liked the bread. It was glazed in honey. She noticed that some of the couples went to the back of the restaurant through a curtain of beads. And some of the men went up a stairway to the left. The bartender kept shouting as if he were hard of hearing. It was an interesting place.

  “So it’s time,” she said.

  “You wish to go?”

  “No silly. It’s time for you to tell me about your face. Your scars and tattoos.”

  “Aah, you want the story.”

  “You said it would explain everything.”

  He nodded. To her surprise and delight he reached behind his neck and pulled the shirt he wore over his head and off. She glanced to the others in the place and no one seem to care. If they stared, they stared at her not Leo. Belinda had to pause and take down a breath. He was nothing like she expected. Physically he had the upper body of a deeply tanned Adonis. Each muscled ridge and bulge in his shoulders and chest were perfectly sculpted. Beneath the artwork the skin had raised scaring that spread from his face, to his neck down his left arm and covered the left side of his chest. The tribal artwork on his neck and facing looked like each stroke was done to deepen and broaden the stretching of his skin. But his arms and chest were different. The tattoos were indeed picturesque and told a story.

  Leo extended his arm. He pointed at the little boy cowering in a box just above his wrist. “That is
me. Four. Family gone. How I lived.”

  “You were four years old? You lost your family?”

  He nodded. He then pointed to the next tattoo. “Here, I survive.”

  Belinda leaned in. She recognized the image of the same boy in a fisherman’s boat with a pole cast into the water. “I eat and feed myself this way. No victim,” he said in reference to the image. That had to take a lot of courage for a four year old boy living on the streets. He pointed to the next images.

  There was a pack of dogs tearing into a shared piece of meat. “Here is me and my gang. We are dogs. Lost boys. We share what we find. We hunt together. I’m with them from four to seven here. One of the pack.”

  She nodded that she understood. There was an image of a boy wrestling or fighting another taller man. “Always have to protect myself here. Roma, Sinti, gypsies are friends and enemy. Alone in the world. I have to protect me from Roma. From anyone. From everyone,” he explained.

  His finger slid up to another image of a boy in front of a store with his hand out as if begging. There were so many images that bled into each other she kept having to turn his arm to and fro to get entire story. However, further up his arm there was one tattoo that stood out among the rest. A young boy on fire. The flames engulfed him while he screamed in agony. Their orange and red flames became darker and darker and turned into tribal designs that stretched up his shoulder blade to his neck deepening in the crevices of his scars. And then covering half of his face. It was all so beautiful to her now. She listened as he tried in his broken English to tell her of a time when he was homeless and forced to steal off the streets to eat. The story went from strange to horrific as he described the burns he suffered from boiling water and how for a year he suffered so much pain as a kid he was prone to black outs and seizures. He had a new family that helped him heal.

  “It’s beautiful. I know it’s tragic, but it’s like you wear your soul as your skin, as your armor.”

  He nodded. “I protect me. I protect all of me this way. People are quick to see the scars but they don’t know what’s underneath. Do you see me now?”

  She stared at him for a moment. “What about the butterfly at the center of your throat?”