“You’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?” she asks.
“Of course. You know I would.”
Mom watches as I stack cans of green beans into her cabinet. Her stare starts to make me nervous, so I decide to turn the conversation to her.
“How’s it going with the new counselor?” I ask.
Mom crosses her arms over her chest. “Him? I don’t like him. He asks too many questions.”
I scoff. “That’s kind of his job.”
Mom shakes her head, stubbornly. I walk over and gently lay my hand on her arm.
“If you open up to him, it might make you feel better,” I say.
Mom looks at me. Her eyes are slightly moist. When I look at her, it’s like looking into a mirror. We share the same dark, almost black hair that lies thick and straight down to our shoulders, the same deep brown eyes, though mine are rounder than hers, and the same button nose. She’s giving me that look again, like she has something to tell me, but can’t bring herself to say it. She forces it away with a smile.
“Would you like some tea?” she asks.
“I’d love some.”
We sit in her sunny breakfast nook sipping green tea. Now that her fears about my wellbeing are somewhat relieved, we can talk about other things. She asks me about school and work. We gossip about the people we know back home. I fill her in on everyone who’s getting married or expecting new babies, but I don’t tell her I learn that stuff from Facebook. She hates social media, and insists I stay off of it. I tell her I’m still in touch with old friends from high school and they keep me in the loop.
I ask her about her job as a receptionist at a veterinary office. She scrunches her nose. Everyone she works with is a suspicious person. They watch her. They ask her, gasp, questions about her life! As I listen to her talk, I wish more than ever that she’d open up to her counselor. It won’t be long before she fires him, and it could take months of convincing to get her to find a new one.
After what feels like a sufficient amount of time, I stand up from my chair.
“I have to go,” I say. I gather our tea cups and carry them to the sink.
“Going straight home?” Mom asks, hopefully.
“I have a shift at the campus gym.”
Mom’s shoulders tense so hard I can almost feel it.
“I wish you wouldn’t work at night.”
I shrug. “I don’t have any say over the schedule. And I have to work to keep my scholarship.”
That’s not entirely true. My friend, Erin, is my shift supervisor. She’d give me whatever hours I wanted. But I don’t tell Mom that. I’ve learned long ago not to let her anxiety dictate how I run my life. I don’t like lying either, but at least I feel a sense of control.
We say goodbye at the door. Mom takes my hand.
“Remember our signal,” she reminds me.
I nod. Of course I remember the signal. Mom came up with it when I was a teenager, and reminds me of it every time I see her. If I’m ever in trouble, and for some reason, can’t say anything, I’m to squeeze her hand three times. I bring her hand up to my mouth and kiss it.
“Everything’s okay,” I say. I wish she would believe me.
Chapter Four
Bruno
I’m at the concrete shop playing a game of cards with a couple of the other guys. These guys are soldiers, made men. We all started around the same time, and I’m sure I’ve put in double the work that they have. I keep glancing at Snake’s office door, thinking about going in there and continuing the conversation we had last night. But I don’t think it would do me any good, not right now. And he promised to keep working on the older guys for me. I should trust him, right?
Snake must’ve sensed my stare. He opens the door and calls me inside. I fold out of the game and excuse myself. Obedient fucking Bruno, the pet gorilla.
Snake stands behind his desk. “You’ve got a big fight in a couple of days. You know what that means. No drinking. No smoking. And no pussy until then.”
Time to let the gorilla out of the cage, huh?
“You didn’t tell me about any fight,” I say.
“I’m telling you now. The opponent is some Irish weakling. You’ll be able to put him down easily, Beast. And it’ll be a nice payday for the Mariano’s.”
“And how much of that payday will I see? Huh?”
Snake rolls his eyes up to ceiling. Sure, he’s frustrated, but what about me? Every dime we make gets funneled up to the top. Franco and the other capos are getting rich standing on my back.
“I told you, I’m working on it,” Snake says.
I’m wondering if I should employ my usual tactics of winning an argument, like slamming my fist into his face, when there’s a commotion outside. We hear a woman’s scream, and chairs and tables scuffling. Snake moves his suit coat to the side and puts his hand on his gun. I take a deep breath, and run out there.
The woman is Jamie Mariano, Anthony’s wife. She looks fucking crazy. Her hair is wild around her face. She wears pajamas with a robe on top. It looks like she just jumped out of bed. She’s clutching an opened cardboard box to her chest.
“Snake,” Jamie says, rushing to him. “Please help. Please help Anthony.”
She bangs her fist against Snake’s chest. Her wrist is thin and brittle, just like the rest of her. She’s been undergoing chemo for about a year now, and it’s left her weak and frail.
“Okay, calm down,” Snake says. He puts his hands on her shoulders, trying to comfort her. “You want some water? Something stronger?”
She slithers away from his grasp. “I don’t want fucking water.” She slams the box on a table and points to it. “Look. Look at what they sent me.”
Snake looks into the box. He studies it for a while, then his face turns gray. He signals for me to come and look. I walk over and peek inside. There are a few items in the box, but one stands out right away. It looks like a weird toy. It’s about two inches long, and a strange reddish gray color. Then, I notice the bone sticking out of the end, and the congealed blood all around it.
It’s a finger.
“Is he dead, Snake?” Jamie yells. “Is he? Tell me?”
Snake picks up a polaroid that’s also in a box. We look at it together. It’s a picture of Anthony. He’s tied to chair, his mouth gagged. There’s a note scrawled on the bottom.
Stay away from Koreatown,
XOXO,
VL
Snake closes his fist around the polaroid. He nearly crushes it until I reach out to stop him.
“VL,” Snake says. “Vince Lombardi.”
“Fuck,” I groan, realizing how serious this is. Vince is the boss of the Lombardi’s. This is a message, a strong one. He’s not giving up on the territory he stole from us without a fight. That means the Mariano’s will have to strike back. Snake will have even more on his plate, and an excuse not to think about getting me made. I know it’s selfish to think like this, but it’s the truth.
Snake picks up the last item. It’s a flash drive. He holds it up and shows it to Jamie.
“What’s on this?” Snake asks.
Jamie shakes her head. “I don’t know. I ran straight here.”
Snake brushes past me to his office. “Beast, with me,” he says under his breath. He looks back at the other soldiers. “Get Jamie a blanket and something hot to drink, okay?”
*
We’re in Snake’s office. The package sits open on the table between us. We both stare at it without saying a word. I find it funny that Snake wants me in here, the only guy that’s not a real soldier, and the one he trusts the most. But I don’t say anything about it. It’s not the time. Though it seems like it never is.
“When’s the last time you saw Anthony?” Snake asks.
“The same time you did. The other night. Here in this office.”
Snake rakes his hands through his hair, then slams them down on the desk, hard. “Fuck. What do they want? What’s the endgame here?” He starts u
p his computer, then inserts the flash drive. There are two files on it, a video, and a document. Snake clicks the video and it starts to play.
Vince Lombardi appears on the computer screen. He’s in a dark room. It’s quiet, besides a low groaning noise that can barely be heard. Vince is a middle aged man, thin and wiry, with a pockmarked face.
“Greetings, Mariano’s,” Vince says. “I hope this video finds you well. As you know by now, I have something you want.” His ugly face spreads with a satisfied grin. I have to clench my fists to keep from punching the computer. “But don’t worry. You’ll get him back, if we can make a deal. It’s been so long since we negotiated our terms. It’s time we revisited a few things. You’ll find my demands on this flash drive. And, no, I’m not accepting counter offers.”
In the background, a scream rises up. I close my eyes as a dark feeling grips my chest. It sounds like Anthony. It all becomes very real for me.
Vince continues. “And just so you know we’re on the up and up here, I’ll give you definitive proof that your soldier is still alive.”
Vince grabs the camera, turning the lens off of him. The picture shakes as Vince carries it somewhere. Anthony appears, bound and gagged, just like in the polaroid. There’s a man in a black face mask standing next to him. The man is holding Anthony’s hand down on a table, and sawing through his finger with a circular saw. Anthony’s screams are louder than the whirring saw, and chill my blood. I can’t believe that when I learned he’d been kidnapped that my first thought was about myself, and my chances to be made. Anthony and Snake are like brothers to me. No fucking way am I letting this stand.
The picture moves rapidly while Vince turns the camera back on himself.
“Don’t worry, we’re only taking one finger. It’s punishment for having your goons sniffing around my business. We won’t hurt him anymore, unless we don’t talk soon.”
The video cuts off. The screen goes black. Snake’s face is coldly still. I can only imagine what he’s thinking.
“So what do we do here?” I ask. I’m ready to track down Vince and beat him to death.
Snake turns to me with dark eyes. “Let me worry about that. You go train for your fight.”
“You want me to go train? Let’s go find this asshole. Give me five minutes alone with him. That’s all I need.” My veins fill with pulsing blood. I need to feel Vince’s bones crack beneath my fists.
“Calm the fuck down, Bruno. Let me figure this shit out.”
“I’m not leaving,” I say.
Snake glares at me. “You want to be made? Learn how to follow fucking orders. Go. Now.”
*
At the gym, I take my anger out on the weights. I lift so much I can feel my muscles straining, on the verge of tearing. But I don’t give a fuck. I’m boiling on the inside. The rage is so strong I can hardly stand it. Everyone else in the gym keeps their distance from me. They stare at me like I’m some kind of animal. And they’re right. I am. If any one of them looked at me the wrong way, I’d probably pound them unconscious right then and there.
Who says I’m not loyal to the Mariano’s? What I’m feeling right now, this intense anger, is nothing if not loyalty. Snake knows that. He should, anyway.
After about two hours of working out, I try a bicep curl, and my muscles can barely contract. Maybe that’s enough for today. If I injure myself, I won’t be able to rip Vince’s head from his body when the opportunity arises. I drop the barbell on the floor, get my shit, and get out of there. I’m drenched in sweat as I make my way through the parking lot. Even though I’m distracted, I’m still aware of my surroundings. I always am. In this business, you never know who’s waiting to pounce on you from the shadows.
I notice someone else right away. I can sense their presence as I walk to my car. It’s probably nothing, but you can never be too sure. It’s getting dark out. I can barely see. I listen carefully to their footsteps. Soon, I realize, they’re following me. I feel a rush of euphoria. I hope it’s a Lombardi.
I stop walking, turn around, and barrel towards them. Usually, that’s enough to make someone run away, but this guy doesn’t budge. He even takes out a cigarette and lights it. When I get closer, I see who it is.
Fucking Salvatore Mariano.
“Good to see you, Beast,” Sal says, casually. “I thought I’d find you here.”
I haven’t seen Sal since Monty’s death. No one has. But I always knew he’d show up again one day.
“What’s up, Sal,” I say, plunging my fists into the front of my hoodie. I look him up and down, making sure he’s not going to try anything stupid.
Sal takes a drag of his cigarette. “So, have you ripped Vince Lombardi limb from limb yet?”
I study him harder. “You know about that?”
Sal doesn’t answer the question. I tense up when he reaches into his jacket pocket, but all he pulls out is a folder. “You need leverage. And that pussy Snake doesn’t have it. I do.”
He pushes the folder into my chest. I don’t want to take my eyes off of him, but I look inside. There’s a picture of a woman, and some information about her. Her name is Olivia Presley. She’s twenty-nine years old. She’s getting her PhD in biological anthropology at UCLA. I look back at her picture. She’s too smart to have such nice tits.
“Who the fuck is this?” I ask.
Sal taps his finger on the picture. “That’s Vince’s daughter.”
“Her last name’s not Lombardi. She married?”
Sal shakes his head. “No, I think she uses her mother’s maiden name for school or some shit. She doesn’t want people knowing she’s a mafia princess.”
I look back at the photo. Miss Olivia Presley is smiling sheepishly into the camera. It looks like a selfie taken for Instagram. She wears a cream colored sweater that scoops low on her chest, showing just enough of her cleavage to give me a good mental image of her rack. Her eyes are bright. She looks happy.
My chest tightens with hate. I know her type, the spoiled daughter of a mafia boss. She probably grew up getting everything she wanted, even a fancy degree that she probably doesn’t even deserve. I bet Vince donated a shit ton of money to the school and they let her in, even let her use an alias so her rich classmates don’t know her connection to the mob. Her kind irritates me to no end. I’ve seen them at mob functions, entitled and snobby, their posture straight because of the stick up their ass. They’d look at me sideways, whispering to each other, gossiping about the son of a traitor.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” I ask.
Sal looks at me like it’s so obvious. “They took Anthony. You take her. Make a trade.”
I shake my head. “Snake wouldn’t like that. We’re supposed to stay away from family.”
Sal laughs, that same laugh that could chill any room. “Snake didn’t respect my father when he was capo. He killed him, remember? He murdered my father in cold blood. So, Snake should understand if you bend the rules a little. Don’t you want Anthony back?”
I shift on my feet. I don’t want to get into Sal’s feud with Snake. “Why don’t you get her yourself?”
Sal throws his cigarette on the ground and stomps it out. “I don’t want to insert myself into mob business. Besides, I know about Franco’s orders. If any of you see me, you’re supposed to bring me in. It’s a good thing you’re not made, or you’d have to follow those orders.” Sal steps closer to me. “Think about it, Beast. You snatch this girl, make a clean trade for Anthony, you save the day. That’s something to open the books for.”
Shit. Maybe he’s right. Anthony is Franco’s grandson. He’d be grateful if I saved him without the Mariano’s having to give in to Vince’s demands.
“And don’t let your conscious get in the way,” Sal says. “You can treat her well. You don’t have to turn her into your sex slave. Shit, you aren’t me.” Sal pats me on the back before walking away. “Don’t tell fucking Snake you saw me.”
I stare back at the photo while Sal disappears
back into the oblivion that he came from. How many pairs of shoes do you own, Olivia? How many designer dresses? How charmed has your life been?
The more I look at her, the more it seems like a good idea. I could get Anthony back. I could finally prove myself. And I’d get to lock this spoiled brat away, dissolve the illusion that is her life. It’s time she learned how shitty reality is for most people.
My phone dings in my pocket. I check it absentmindedly. It’s from an unknown number. Something tells me it’s Sal, that sneaky motherfucker. I click on the link he sent me. A map pops up, and a little blinking light. I know it’s her. Sal probably put a tracking device on her car. He’s good at this type of stuff, which is why I’m not surprised he knows about Anthony. There’s no telling how many cameras or tracking devices he set up. He could be watching me now. But I don’t care. I look between the picture and the blinking light on my phone.
I’ve got you now, Olivia. It’s only a matter of time. Soon, you’ll know, like I do, what it’s like to pay for the sins of your father.
Chapter Five
Olivia
It’s Friday night. I’m in the campus library, elbow deep in peer reviewed articles. I’ve been here for hours. My eyes are strained, my shoulders are sore from being hunched over the desk. I swear, I can even feel my brain pulsing behind my eyes. I lean back in my chair and look up at the ceiling to take a quick break. Lorie, the librarian, approaches my desk with a pleasant smile.
“We’re closing,” she says, gently.
I fold my hands in front of my chest. “Do you mind if I…”
“Again?” Lorie sighs. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a set of keys which she lays on my desk. “I thought you’d say that.”
I grasp the keys and pull them towards me. “I promise I’ll lock everything up tight.”
She shakes her head with a pursed lips. “I know you will. You always do. But don’t stay too long. You should sleep sometime.” She lowers her head conspiratorially. “Maybe have a little fun once in a while.”
“I’ll think about fun when I finish my dissertation,” I say, going back to the articles in front of me.
Beware the Beast (Mafia Soldiers Book 2) Page 2
