by M. M. Cox
Ray aims at Gino’s head this time, but I’m ready. I leap from the floor and slam my body into the trapped underboss. Ray fires but misses Gino’s head by several feet, his bullet puncturing a chair. Vince is at my side, and before Ray can regroup, he stomps on Ray’s hand, forcing him to let go of his gun. Vince snatches the gun and points it at Ray’s head. I immediately see the danger in what Vince is thinking. “Hey, Vince. Why don’t you hand me that?” I say as calmly as I can manage.
“He shot my dad. Ray Gallo deserves to die,” Vince responds, his voice hard, unforgiving.
“This is not the way, Vince. Let him pay by being humiliated. Let him know what it’s like to be a nobody,” I plead.
“Come on, Vince. Just give the gun to Danny and we can go home!” Portia says, now beside us. Tony is across the room, surveying the damage from the van, and Julia is kneeling next to Gino.
Vince glares down at the fallen underboss, and I think that perhaps he is not acting out of emotion. Instead, Vince seems to be enjoying this moment, as though playing a part in the mob stories he loves so much. He moves the barrel slightly to the right and fires, causing Ray, and everyone else, to jump. Vince laughs like a lunatic and hands the pistol to Portia.
“Gallo, you big chicken. You’re through!”
Portia shoots Vince the you’re crazy look and turns to me. “Sorry about the van. We didn’t know what else to do. But we heard everything before the transmitter was destroyed, and then, as we tried to figure out what to do, we heard that horrible gunshot—and we had to do something!”
“It was a risk, but you did the right thing. We still need help though!” I say desperately, turning toward Gino.
“We called the police, but I’m not sure they thought we were serious. I’m going to run down to the convenience store and try to get an ambulance here!” Tony says as he comes up beside us, glancing at Gino. Julia is holding her sweatshirt to her father’s side. The amount of blood is alarming. Vince is now beside her, his hand on his father’s shoulder. Frank limps over, his face scratched and bleeding. “Let me see what I can do until they get here,” he says, moving toward Gino.
But before Tony can take two steps toward the door, a commotion in front of the diner causes us to cringe, preparing ourselves for another onslaught of mob fury. I also hear noise coming from the door behind us. Is Capriotti still here? Surely he must have escaped by now. We wait anxiously, but instead of angry mobsters, men in helmets and shields file into the diner through the hole the van created. I see the words SWAT splashed across a bulletproof vest.
“Cavalry’s arrived,” Vince says, moving his body between the formidable newcomers and his fading father. I hear Frank yelling directions to the SWAT team. The men surround us, but Frank limps over and shoves them aside. “Get out of the way! Make room for the paramedics!”
The men from SWAT move to take charge of Ray and Donny as paramedics flow through the door and hurry to Gino, pushing us out of the way. I work my way toward Frank and motion to the back room. “I think Capriotti’s still here!”
Frank doesn’t hesitate for a moment. He limps through the growing crowd of federal agents, cops, and paramedics to the back door. I follow, looking for any distraction from the cold reality that my godfather might be dying—and knowing it’s my fault. Frank bursts through the back door, and I almost plow right into him as I follow. The agent has stopped just a few feet into the room because the area is shrouded in darkness, except for a sliver of light escaping from the dining room through the slats in the bathroom. I brush past Frank, who whips toward me with his gun.
“Frank, it’s me—Danny!” I say quickly, backing away from the agent. “Hold on—there’s a light over here.” I shuffle through the room toward the light switch at the back.
“Danny! I could have shot you. You shouldn’t be back here.”
“It’s no big deal,” I reply, reaching for the switch. I flick it up and find myself staring into the barrel of a small handgun, which extends from an agitated Mark Capriotti.
Chapter 20
“Put it down, Mark,” Frank warns, his gun trained on Capriotti’s head.
“No way. He’s my ticket out of here.”
“How’s that?” Frank answers, moving closer.
“Stay away!” Capriotti yells, glancing nervously at the advancing agent. I glance nervously too—doesn’t Frank care if I die?
“You’re not going to shoot him,” Frank states. “Right now the charges against you will only keep you penned up for a few years. A murder charge, however, might go another way.”
Capriotti sneers at me. “This kid has messed up everything. I want him dead.” His finger moves imperceptibly on the trigger.
“I’d hoped to see you in court, but I’m not that particular about how I take you down,”
Frank threatens. Capriotti screws up his face angrily and starts to pull back the trigger. In less than an instant, I am struck by something heavy and melt into the ground. As I hit the floor, my head explodes with pain. And then, everything is black.
* * * *
The hospital in Newcastle smells like antiseptic and lime jello. At least, that’s what I think as I survey the too white room with a large window, a tiny television, and an awkwardly hung picture of random flowers. I lean back in my wheelchair in which the nurse has forced me to sit because of my injury. But I almost jump out of it when I’m startled by a familiar voice.
“Well, you’re doing better than expected. Always knew you were a fighter.” Gino has just awoken in his hospital bed. Even though I’ve been waiting for him to wake, I find that I am afraid to speak to him.
“Hi, Gino.”
“Hey,” he answers as I wheel my chair closer to his bed. I feel exposed in my blue hospital gown.
“How are you?” I ask.
“Feeling better every minute. I heard you had quite the time, though.”
“Who told you?”
“Frank. He said he had to shoot Capriotti to save you, but the DA took you down with him as he fell. You would have been fine had you not hit your head on a crate,” Gino summarizes.
I nod and hold back a laugh. That stupid crate had found yet another way to cause me pain.
“But you’re okay?” I ask, overwhelmed that this man sitting in front of me had been on the verge of death. I have already spoken to the other Vigliottis. Ronnie still doesn’t understand quite what happened at the diner that night, but something tells me she is just grateful that her family survived whatever it was. She hasn’t been too intent on grilling us for details, which makes me think she suspects we just barely escaped criminal activity that we may or may not have been a part of. However, this is the first time I have been allowed to talk to Gino, three days after that night.
“Well, I’m alive,” Gino replies. “Ray must have been really off his game to take a shot like that. The bullet just missed my heart, but I lost a lot of blood and broke two ribs.”
“Thanks to me,” I say glumly.
“Thanks to you, I didn’t get shot in the head. Vince told me you saved my life.”
“Did he say anything else?” I ask, wondering whether Vince told his father I had been talking to law enforcement. Vince had yet to speak to me, treating me with atypical coolness. Gino sighs. “Danny, you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Frank told me everything. You became a little mobster yourself—manipulating everyone—quite by accident, it seems.”
I cringe at being compared with a mobster. “I didn’t realize you already spoke to Frank. So I guess the FBI will take me away now. And I bet you’ll be glad.”
“Danny, Frank’s not charging me. He said he got what the FBI wanted, and he said he owed you a favor for not turning him over to Capriotti. I’m guessing I’m that favor, and for that, I owe you. You’re staying with us—unless you want to leave.”
I straighten in my chair. “No, I don’t want to leave. But you’ll never trust me again. You hate rats.”
“I despise r
ats, Danny. But, I trust you with my life—and I owe your father and mother, who by the way, was here just a few minutes ago. She ran down to the cafeteria to grab coffee. She’s very nervous to see you.”
“She said I could stay? Even after all this?” I ask.
“She doesn’t have a place for you. Del is living at your old house, and Penny is with a friend. She could stay with us, but she doesn’t want to live in Newcastle. Too much history for her, I think. Plus, she said she’s started seeing someone again, and she thinks you’ll be upset about it.”
Doonesby, I think. Mom’s seeing him again? I’m not sure how I feel about it now—I have a new sense of what my mom has gone through in her life.
“Your parents are getting divorced, Danny,” Gino says softly.
“But Del’s not really my dad, is he,” I say. It’s not a question.
“No, Danny. He isn’t.”
“My dad was a mobster.”
Gino sighs again and stares out the window. “Your father, Mike Esposito, was a good man. And I wasn’t a good enough friend. So I’ve got to make it up to him by taking care of you. And the thing is—I like having you around because you remind me of him—so it doesn’t feel like I’m doing him a favor at all.”
I turn my head away and try to contain all the emotions churning in me. “What happened to my dad?”
Gino stares at the ceiling. “I don’t know. Nobody knows if he’s dead or alive. As for what happened before he disappeared, that’s between him and me.” His jaw is hard and his voice tight. I know I won’t get the information I so desperately want to hear. Another thought occurs to me. “You didn’t take me in to see if it would lead you to him, did you?” I ask, wondering whether Gino’s good nature had an underlying, darker motive. Gino seems taken aback by my insinuation. “Danny, you’re with us because I need to do something right by your parents. But you’re more than a favor—I like having you with us,”
his voice is low, struggling against some strong emotion. I know these words are hard for a tough guy like Gino.
“So what happens for you now?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Well, I don’t know,” Gino says, shrugging. I look at him sharply and wonder whether Gino is going to use his free pass to get out of the mob lifestyle. Is he in danger because he was connected to the undercover? Do the others consider him a rat? Will he survive all of this? I’m smart enough to know that Gino would never tell me one way or another.
“How about Ronnie?” I ask. “Are you going to come clean with her about all this?”
Gino’s eyes narrow. “She knows as much as she needs—and wants—to know,” he replies vaguely. “Hey, I have some news about some folks that I think you’ll really like,” he says abruptly.
“Yeah?” I ask, letting him change the subject.
Gino nods. “First, I thought you’d like to know that a certain DA’s assistant was arrested this morning at the Newcastle Mall. Apparently, Ms. Kluwer was helping her boss.”
I laugh this time. “That is good news.”
“Do you know why she was so interested in you, from the beginning?” Gino asks. I shake my head.
“Apparently she wanted to use you against Del, to see if she could make him talk to Ray about your dad. Problem was, she never did her homework. Del never knew anything about Mike Esposito.”
I stare at him, a hundred questions forming, none of which, I know, he will answer.
“Anyway,” he continues, “I think there’s a person at the door who would like to speak to you,” Gino says, nodding to someone. I twist (a bit painfully—my head is throbbing) toward the door and see Reggie standing there.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” Reggie replies, as I wave to Gino and wheel toward the door. Reggie and I move into the hall and wait for two nurses to pass us before speaking. I study my friend carefully. “How did you—?”
“Julia called me on her phone. Vince told her I was your best friend, and she tried the number you used when you borrowed her phone once. Kind of lucky, I guess. You probably wouldn’t have called me after the things I said.”
I smile. “Of course I would have. You saved us a few nights ago. SWAT came just in time.”
Reggie glances toward the room in which Gino is recuperating. “I guess everything worked out.”
I nod. “Yeah, it did.”
Reggie swallows and looks down the hall. “You’re staying with him, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, Reggie. I’m going to stay in Newcastle, at least for now.”
Reggie says nothing, and we are both silent for a few minutes. “I don’t think that’s a good decision, Danny,” Reggie finally says. “Your godfather is still not a good man.”
“I know,” I reply, not letting myself get angry. Reggie is right. Frank is a hero. Gino is, well, it’s hard to say. I’m already struggling with the fact that Gino may not give up the mob lifestyle. And even if he does, he might be hunted down for being the very rat that he hates so much. He’s done terrible things, but now I’m worried about him and his family. I hope my godfather can change, but will he be able to? Will he have a chance? I feel responsible for so much of this.
“I’ve got to stay for now,” I finally say to Reggie. “The Vigliottis are a link to my past—a past I never knew anything about.”
Reggie nods. “Okay, I understand.” He pauses, then smiles. “So, you gonna tell me the juicy details or what?”
I grin and point to a chair. “Sit down. You’re gonna love this!”
* * * *
A week later, Reggie and I are gripping the seats in the SUV, both hoping that this ride won’t be our last.
“Vince! Slow down!” I order.
“Oh please, don’t be such a baby,” Vince snaps. “You wanted a trip to Joe’s lot—we’re going to Joe’s lot.”
“We want to make it to the lot alive,” Reggie retorts. Vince turns from the driver’s seat to glare at him, chewing a large mouthful of Snickers, and nearly steers the speeding vehicle onto the shoulder. Reggie reaches out to steady himself as Vince overcorrects the vehicle. “I should have driven you, Danny,” Reggie says crossly.
I bite my lip. I love speed, but Vince’s driving is downright lethal. “Seriously, Vince. Stop being an idiot. We managed to stay alive last week—let’s keep that record going.”
Vince doesn’t respond, but he does release the gas pedal ever so slightly. He zips off the highway into the car lot in minutes, completing a trip that should have taken at least thirty minutes in just fifteen. He slows the vehicle as it kicks up dust from the lot, coating the army of used cars glittering in the sun. I know we’ll probably earn a lecture for Vince’s mess. Vince jerks the vehicle to an awkward stop and unstraps his seatbelt. “Hey, remember when we took on Tommy and his stupid friends?”
I sigh. Vince enjoys bringing up all the times that we have spent together without Reggie. But Reggie doesn’t seem to notice—he is captivated by the cars.
“Yeah,” I answer. “I heard he’ll be taking a few months away from Newcastle High.”
“Well, I would too if my dad were behind bars. Ray didn’t even get bail.”
“I almost feel sorry for the kid,” Reggie says, finally joining the conversation. Vince snorts. “Believe me, you wouldn’t if you knew Tommy. He’s cut from the same mold as his dad.”
“Hey, there’s Portia,” I say, glad she is here to meet us. We haven’t spoken much in the past week; the feelings between us are too mixed up.
I jump out of the SUV and stride over to her, a smile overtaking what I had hoped would be a cool expression. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she says, returning my smile. She looks adorable in jeans and a sweatshirt with her hair split by two braids. She seems younger, but cute. Always cute.
“You doing okay?” I ask, not really wanting to relive any of the events from last week.
“Yeah.” Her eyes sparkle, and I can’t move my own eyes from them.
“Hey, lovebirds!” Vince calls, causing
both of us to immediately turn bright red. “We gonna talk to Joe or what? You’re wasting my time!”
“I gotta talk to your dad,” I say to Portia.
“Yeah, I know,” she says. “Hey, I wanted to tell you, Tony’s really grateful that you helped catch the man responsible for hurting his dad.”
“That’s great,” I say, not really wanting to talk about my rival for her attention. I begin to turn to follow Vince, but she catches my arm.
“It’s just that, well, I—”
“What?”
She reaches her hand up around my neck and pulls my head to hers. Then she kisses me. It’s quick and shallow, but enough to drive me to the edge of crazy.
“What’s going on here?” Joe’s gruff voice quickly ends my moment. Portia and I spring back from each other, but she continues to smile.
Joe glares at me. “You coming or what?” he says, and I reluctantly follow him toward the building. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Vince and Reggie making fun of me as they follow, passionately kissing their hands.
“Oh, Danny, I love you so much!” Vince mocks in a very high-pitched imitation of Portia’s voice.
“Shut up, Vince. Stop making out with your hand, Reggie. You guys look like idiots,” I say, but I can’t stop smiling. Nothing can ruin this moment for me, and besides, my two friends have finally found something in common—having fun laughing at me. Joe makes small talk as we traipse to his small office in the center of the lot. “So, Vince, I hear you may try out for wrestling.”
Vince nods. “Yeah, Danny here has practically talked me into it. He and Reggie think they can bring me up to speed.”
“Well, you’ll probably do okay. I’ve seen you at work with Tommy Gallo and company. You’ve got potential.”
Vince beams at Joe’s praise. “Well, my dad’s not convinced—but I’ll show him.”
We enter the building and Joe motions me toward a chair. Joe sits in the chair behind the desk as Vince scrambles to take the last seat. Reggie rolls his eyes and leans against the wall.
