by Alice Addy
“Get me a bottle and leave it on the table. One glass and no ice!” he demanded. He liked his whiskey neat. Why dilute it with frozen water?
The music ended and he settled down to get good and drunk, as fast as possible.
“Can I join you?” a feminine voice purred, softly.
He looked up at the exotic brunette who’d just been dancing on stage. He didn’t like to share his liquor, but maybe he’d make an exception this once. “Sure,” he grunted, and motioned for another glass.
“I didn’t think I’d see you here, again. Have you been staying away from the nightclubs or just this particular one?”
She was more astute than he’d figured—and nosey, too. “I remember you, now. You’re the do-gooder that helped me clean myself up after I tossed my dinner.”
She smiled. “You didn’t have any dinner. You were drunk, and I’d wager you’re drunk most of the time. Mind telling me what’s eating at you?” She reached across the table and placed her delicate hand on top of his own.
“You’ve got moxie, girl. I’ll give you that. You know it isn’t your job to annoy the customers, and it isn’t any of your business why I drink. You wouldn’t believe me anyway. Drink up and leave me alone.”
“My mama and papa own a small restaurant. The spaghetti is very good, but the lasagna is my favorite. I need to eat after my shift. Would you see me home? I’ll give you a free meal.” She smiled that sweet smile again, melting his resolve to get the hell away from her.
Anthony needed to stay mad. He didn’t want to feel better. He reached way down inside himself to find his hateful inner core. “You got whiskey there, kid?”
“No, but I can find you some wine,” she said, hopefully.
“Get away from me. What the hell would I want with you and your stupid family restaurant? You damn Italians should get on the next boat and go back to where you came from. Leave me alone. Go find another rich man to entice. I don’t need your damn free meal.” Anthony threw her hand off his arm, and downed the whiskey in her full glass. “Stay away from me or I’ll see to it that you’re fired!”
Giada’s eyes widened in fear. “You don’t mean that. You couldn’t.”
“The hell I don’t. Hey, waiter! Get your boss over here. I want this girl gone.”
Immediately, she jumped back. “Please, don’t, sir. You don’t know what you’re saying. I’ll not bother you again. I swear it. Please don’t get me fired,” she begged.
By this time, everyone in the nightclub was staring at the handsome customer shouting at the beautiful dancer. He was making quite a scene. She was crying and trembling like a leaf. Soon, the big bartender arrived and took the little woman by the shoulders, guiding her to the dressing rooms in the back.
“Oh, Max. Why didn’t I listen to you and stay away from him? He’s the devil. Can he get me fired?” The tears were streaming down her cheeks and dripping off the end of her chin.
“He’s a rich man, girlie. That carries weight in this town. Now, you clean your face, and get ready for your next number. You don’t want to get Mr. Torrio angry at you.” Max tossed her a washcloth and made a hasty exit. He’d been away from the bar too long, and even he could get fired.
Anthony felt like a real prick. The girl was sweet, too sweet to be working in a dump like this, and she only wanted to help. Her heart was in the right place, but he figured that was dangerous. It would be so easy to fall for a face like that. She was an old-fashioned Italian beauty from a good family, and she deserved a lot better than him. He was muttering to himself when he felt two strong hands grasp his shoulders.
“Let’s go for a walk,” a deep voice commanded.
Anthony didn’t bother to look up. He felt no need to put his drink down and stand up. He wasn’t ready to leave. He felt the grip tighten painfully around his neck.
“Come with me willingly, or I’ll have to persuade you.”
Anthony felt cold metal push against his ribs. This man was serious. “Very well,” Anthony sighed, as he emptied his drink. “I’d hate to keep you waiting.”
Max saw Jimmy Conti forcibly escort the young man from the lounge. He knew the stranger was in trouble. The gangsters that ran the liquor and prostitution, on this side of town, wanted to avoid unnecessary attention, if possible. Better they take care of it themselves. The young man’s body would never be found.
The music started to swell, as the lovely ladies came out and danced across the stage. Giada stepped up just in time to see Jimmy force the man out onto the street. She wasn’t as naïve as some people thought. She’d lived in Chicago for a long time. As the girls formed their kick line, Giada continued on across the stage and off the other side. No one really noticed her disappearance. As she passed the stage door, she grabbed the axe that hung on the wall, in case of fire. It weighed almost as much as she did. She crossed herself, and exited out into the alley.
The sound of meaty fists striking smooth flesh and muscle reverberated throughout the night air. The grunts from both men, the assailant and his victim, were loud and threatening. At least they were still fighting and not shooting.
Giada ran toward the struggling men. It appeared that the stranger was defending himself quite admirably, until Jimmy tired and pulled his gun.
“Stop!” she shouted, holding the axe high in the air, resembling a fierce Carrie Nation. If she hadn’t been deadly serious, the image would have been amusing. “I know how to throw this, Jimmy. He’s just a drunk. Let him go, or I swear I’ll aim this axe at your chest.”
Jimmy stopped and glared at the effrontery of the dancing girl. It was bad enough that she had refused his attentions, but here she was, confronting him in front of a no-good drunk. He’d have to teach her a lesson.
“Giada, you’re sticking that pretty nose of yours into places where it don’t belong. Someone might just cut it off. Get the hell outta here.” He wasn’t bluffing and she knew it.
“I’m not afraid of you, Jimmy. I’ll call the police if you bother me.”
Jimmy relaxed his hold on Anthony and broke out in hideous laughter. The girl was such an innocent. “Go ahead. We own the Chicago police department, Giada. Nobody’s gonna stop us from doing whatever we want. Even the North Side Gang fear us. We own Chicago, baby. That means we even own you. Now go back inside, like a good little girl, and I might forget I saw you holding that fucking axe.”
Giada chewed on her bottom lip. She was so scared she felt her knees knock together, but she tightened her grip on the axe handle and stood her ground. “Let...him...go!” she demanded, menacingly.
Anthony stood tall and flexed his shoulders. He looked deep into the hoodlum’s beady eyes and smiled. “I think the lady has called your bluff...Jimmy.” He chuckled at the sound of the man’s name. “It’s not much of a name for a tough guy, now is it...Jimmy?”
“You’re a dead man,” the mobster growled. “You’re both dead!” he snarled, as he looked directly at Giada. He holstered his gun and fled from the alley.
Giada would have fainted on the spot, had it not been for the fact she was scared stiff and couldn’t move a muscle. Her knuckles were white from gripping the axe and she had lost all the color in her cheeks.
“Are you going to be all right?” Anthony asked the girl, tenderly. He was as sober as a judge, at the moment, and he could think clearly for the first time in a long while. This beautiful little thing had the heart of a lion, and she had just gambled her life for his. He couldn’t let her down, now. Damn it all.
Anthony put his arms around her quaking shoulders, and carefully, he removed the heavy axe from her grasp. “Thank you, darling. I think he would have killed me, if it hadn’t been for you. You were quite brave, you know.” He realized that those were the most words he’d spoken, at any one time, in weeks. “How about I walk you home? I don’t think you dance here, anymore.”
Giada nodded. It felt good to have his strong arms around her, keeping her from collapsing upon the ground. She didn’t feel the chill fr
om the night air through her thin costume—only the heat from where his body touched hers. She sighed. As she’d always suspected, he was a special man.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Taste of Italy was a nice little Italian café. It was unpretentious and filled with heavenly aromas. The staff was all family and they were very proud of the food they served. When Giada and Anthony walked through the doors, they were immediately engulfed by her loving and concerned family..
”Who is this nice looking young man you bring to us, Giada?” her mama asked excitedly. “He looks hungry. Sit! Sit, young man!” she ordered Anthony.
“Anthony, I want you to meet my mama. My papa’s in the kitchen. These two good-looking guys are my brothers, Paulie and Carlo, and this is my little sister, Pia. We all live here, above the café. My brothers are going to the community college,” she said with pride. “No one from our family has ever gone to college, but Papa says this is America. Here, we can do anything.” Everyone laughed.
In no time at all, huge aromatic platters began arriving to their table. With his first bite, Anthony decided that food had never tasted more delicious. He forgot his troubles and concentrated on the happy chatter that surrounded him. It was heartwarming to see Giada interact with her family. Here, she was the woman she was meant to be... not a dancer in a smoky nightclub, being pawed by drunken men and threatened by mobsters. This was her life.
So caught up in the merriment of the moment, Anthony failed to notice the last few customers leaving the restaurant. He didn’t observe the brothers placing chairs on the tops of tables. It seemed he only had eyes for Giada.
“Thank you for bringing me here, Giada. Your family is nice,” he said, smiling.
Her face lit up at his sincere words. “They are, aren’t they? I want to have a family of my own, just like the one Mama and Papa gave us. I love them all, so very much. Do you have a big family, Anthony?”
He shook his head. “All of my family is long dead and buried.” He looked at his empty hands folded on the table. “Most of my friends are, too.”
“That’s terrible. You’re all alone, then?”
“Yeah. But now I have you.” He winked.
“Is that why you drink? Because you’re lonely?” Giada had a way of getting straight to the heart of the matter.
Anthony was quiet for a few moments. How much could he tell her? “I miss my best friend. He died in the war.”
“I see,” she said. “But you’re still alive, Anthony. Your friend wouldn’t want you to drink yourself to death. He’d want for you, what you’d want for him. Isn’t that so?”
He nodded. “His death was indescribably horrendous. I’ll never forget it, and it prevents me from sleeping at night. The alcohol helps.”
Giada shook her head, causing her glossy black curls to dance around her lovely face. She took hold of Anthony’s large hands. “The alcohol has not let you forget your friend. It has not lessened the nightmares, or you wouldn’t still be trying to stop them with more liquor. The only thing you’re succeeding at is killing yourself. If the whiskey doesn’t get you, the gangsters will. Johnny Torrio’s bunch is bad news, Anthony. I think we made him very mad, tonight.”
“I believe you’ve got that right. Do you have any place to go, where he won’t find you? You should disappear for a few months.”
“No. And I can’t just leave my family. They need my money to keep the boys in school. I can’t just leave.”
Anthony stood up and stretched his long frame. He was at least six feet, four inches tall, Giada estimated. She was five feet, one inch. They were a perfect match.
It was difficult for Anthony to take his eyes off Giada’s face. She was perfection and much too good for him. He hated to say goodbye, but it couldn’t be avoided. “It’s late. I should go now. Thank your family for me, Giada. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself so much. They made me feel quite welcome. You’re very lucky. Tomorrow morning, I’ll help you find another job. I’ll call on you around …”
Anthony didn’t get the opportunity to finish his sentence before the sound of smashing glass shattered the peace of the evening. Fire raised its ugly head across the entrance to the little restaurant. Someone had thrown a firebomb through the plate glass window.
Anthony grabbed some nearby tablecloths, while Giada ran to the kitchen for buckets of water. Due to their fast thinking, the flames hadn’t had a chance of catching, and soon they were extinguished, with only a minimum amount of damage. By the time the family had reassembled in the dining room, only smoke and wet floors greeted them.
Giada’s mother crossed herself and started to cry. Her father took his wife in his arms and tried to console her. “It is all right, Mama. We are not hurt, and the children and I can have the restaurant looking as good as ever, by dinnertime. Now...now. No more tears, Mama.”
Giada’s lovely face was covered in soot and she noticed Anthony’s hands were red and blistered. She wanted to cry, but did not for the sake of her family.
“This is because of me, isn’t it, Anthony?” she muttered softly.
He just stood there looking at the blackened mess left for the Bruncato’s to clean up. “We can’t be sure, but it’s a good hunch. I think you should pack a bag, and the two of us should get out of town. We need to let this blow over before someone gets seriously hurt. Be ready by noon.”
Anthony didn’t wait for her answer, but went into survival mode. Giada and her entire family were in danger, because of him. Now, he needed to make sure they would be safe. He and Giada would disappear for a while.
* * *
“Oh, it’s beautiful, Anthony,” Giada exclaimed, while pressing her nose against the car window, watching the dense forests speed by. “To think it’s so close to Chicago. Have you been here before?”
Anthony loved driving his new Mercer Raceabout, but he so seldom got the chance. He usually needed a driver to pour him into the backseat of his town car, after an evening of over-imbibing his favorite beverage—which was anything alcoholic—and that included pure old rubbing alcohol. It’s a wonder it hadn’t killed him, he chuckled to himself.
“I’ve been to the North Woods a couple of times. The fishing is great. There’s Walleye, Muskie, and trout. Maybe I’ll rent a boat and take you out on the lake. You can swim, can’t you?” He kept his eyes on the road.
Giada wrinkled her nose and crossed her fingers in her lap. “Of course,” she nodded. “Can’t everybody?”
“Good. I like a woman who can take care of herself in a crisis. If the canoe would tip, I wouldn’t have to worry about you. I might as well warn you, the mosquitoes can be as big as birds. You’re not afraid of a few bugs, are you?” He turned his head and looked into her blank face.
She shook her head. “Nope.” Where was he taking her, she wondered? “Are there spiders?” she asked tentatively.
“As big as your fist,” he laughed. “But they’re nothing compared to the bears.” He was having fun for the first time in days. Giada was a good kid, he thought.
“Anthony... I don’t think I like this place, we’re going.” Her bottom lip was drawn down in the cutest pout.
He laughed out loud. “Honey, I’m just kidding you. If you can’t swim, I’ll swim for you. Besides, you’re with me, and I never capsize my boat. There’s no more bugs here, than back in Chicago—and nothing as disgusting as the cockroaches. The bears will leave us alone, if we leave them alone—especially their cubs. They’re real cute, but Mama is never very far away. Remember that. It’s beautiful there, and more importantly, it’s safe from Torrio and his boys.”
Giada sat quietly for a few minutes. “Tony, I saw a really big bug once, in Chicago. It was called a ‘Bugs Moran’,” she giggled, thinking she was very clever.
“How about a Bugsy Siegel?” Anthony countered. “I hear they’re really ugly.”
“Oh, he’s a very nasty bug, but not quite as mean and ugly as Bugger Bertolli. Now he needs to be exterminated.” She was laughi
ng now, holding her sides.
“Bugger Bertolli? Never heard of him. Is he part of the Chicago crime syndicate?”
“A lot you know, Mr. Barton. He’s our butcher, and he robs us every time we place an order, not to mention his beef neck bones are fatty.”
“You think you’re pretty funny, don’t you, little lady?” Anthony grinned.
She nodded and grinned from ear to perfect ear.
“Why is it suddenly, ‘Mr. Barton’? What happened to, ‘Tony’? I kind of liked it. I’ve been called Anthony—or worse—all my life.”
“I hoped you wouldn’t be offended by, ‘Tony’. It’s just more you, I think. Anthony is such a stuffy name.”
Anthony thought it over for a minute and nodded his head in agreement. “From this moment on...I’ll go by the name, Tony. Thank you, Giada. I like it, and it offers me a fresh start. God knows I need that.”
The shiny Mercer turned off the main road and onto a dirt road leading through dense woods. The rocks crunched beneath the wide tires, and in places, tree limbs skimmed the roof. The pungent fragrance of virgin pine, birch, and oak filled the air. The scent of lake water drifted through the closed windows.
“Just up ahead is Herbert and Bert’s.” Tony said.
“Are they friends of yours?” Giada asked excitedly.
“No, sweet thing. They’re father and son, and they own the best resort in the North Woods. Used to be called, Warner’s, but since old Herbert’s son came of age, and took an interest in the family business, the name was changed.” Tony pointed through the woods to a large timbered structure. “Old man Warner lives over there, in that log cabin. It’s real nice. I had dinner there, once…a long time ago. Our cabin is on down the road. It’s close to the café. Every Sunday, they offer a chicken dinner. It’s very satisfying after a day of trying to catch a fish,” he chortled.
Steering the car around an enormous pine tree, Tony pulled up in front of a sweet cabin with a rustic porch running the entire width of it. Handmade twig chairs sat waiting for them, beckoning them to come and sit a spell, and watch the world go by.
