by K. J. Dahlen
When Marco returned a few minutes later, he wasn’t alone. Franco Morelli was with him, along with two other big guys. Both looked dumb as rocks.
“So you thought you could touch something that belongs to me,” Franco’s statement was calm, but intimidating.
Apparently, Annalisa had told him about last night, or he had cameras in here. I was about to tell him that she loved it, but he spoke again.
“I take people stealing my shipments very seriously. I should put a bullet in your head right now, but I won’t. For now, you are worth more to me alive than dead, so you will stay alive. If and when that changes, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”
I had no doubt he would, but I wasn’t giving up yet.
“Since you didn’t get my shipment there is nothing to repay, but I was inconvenienced, so I will take something from you. I know that you have a very large shipment coming into port this month. I need the details and if things work out, I will release you once we have the cargo in our possession. If things work out badly, I’ll at least promise you a quick, painless death.”
The second part sounded good, but there was no way I intended to tell him anything. The funny thing was, I’d planned to tell him about Annalisa. I’d even thought he’d known about it, but I didn’t say a word. It would have been the perfect opportunity to throw it in his face, but it would have also meant that she definitely would not be coming down again. Given the options of humiliating Franco or spending more time with Annalisa, I’d choose the latter. “I’m not going to tell you shit,” I said speaking for the first time.
He laughed. “Of course, you won’t. I’d be disappointed if you did. You’re Sal’s son.” It almost sounded like he respected my father. “I don’t need the information from you. I’ll get it because of you. I just came down here to introduce myself. Marco tells me you have been behaving and your shoulder is getting better. As long as you continue to behave, the medical treatment will continue along with the food, water, and bathroom breaks you have been given. If you become trouble, you will be confined to your bed, all privileges removed.”
I really didn’t consider getting to use the bathroom a privilege, but then again, if I were him, I wouldn’t let me use the bathroom either. He was much more civilized than I’d be.
“Behave, and you’ll get out of here.”
“Ain’t no way my dad is talking and he sure isn’t going to make a deal with you.”
“I disagree, and for your sake, I hope I’m right, but if I’m wrong, if your father won’t repay what he owes, if he won’t allow me to run my own business, then he will pay the ultimate price, his only son.” He paused looking at me. “And if it comes to that, I’m a man of my word. It will be a quick, painless death, and I’ll return you to your family for a proper burial. I owe your mother that.” He left the room without saying another word.
He’d created more questions than answers. I knew Franco was ruthless. I’d heard stories and seen the aftermath of his rage. I knew he’d cut out someone’s tongue. I knew he’d slowly tortured men to death. Why was he offering me a quick death? And why was he saying he’d make sure my family had a body to bury? And most importantly, why did he say he owed it to my mother? Did Franco even know my mother? She’d never mentioned him. My father had, quite a bit, but only ever in response to business things. I’d asked him once what his issue with Franco was. He didn’t go into details. All he said was that Franco thought he’d taken something that belonged to him and he was retaliating. I never had reason to doubt my father. I still didn’t, but if I got out of here alive, I might ask my mother if she knew anything about it.
After Franco and company left my room, the day seemed to drag. Donnie brought me lunch and let me use the bathroom. Marco brought me dinner. It was baked chicken, rice and broccoli. It wasn’t one of my favorite meals, but there was a huge smile on my face when Marco sat the tray down on the end of my bed. Next to the dinner plate was a smaller plate of dessert. Tiramisu.
“I have no idea why you’ve been served dessert. I mean, you’re a fucking prisoner. If it were up to me, you’d have bread and water, but Franco insists on feeding you whatever we’re having and And…” he let his voice trail off. “And someone,” he corrected himself, “put the piece of dessert on your tray.”
I knew who it had been, and I couldn’t wait to try it. I actually didn’t give a fuck what it tasted like. The fact that she’d made it for me meant the world. And if I were a betting man, I’d believe she would be visiting me again, once the house grew quiet.
5
Marco
We’d had him nearly twenty-four hours and things seemed calm for a minute. The restaurant was already under construction and would reopen in a few weeks. There wasn’t much damage, windows and drywall. Franco took it as an opportunity to remodel though. He wanted to make a statement that things were fine, better than fine.
Dante had been behaving himself, well for the prick that he was. He turned out to be a lot different than I’d expected. He wasn’t the pretty boy whiner that I’d expected. He hadn’t asked for anything for the pain in his shoulder and other than trying to break free, which anyone would have done, he’d been easy to care for.
Franco had promised him a good death, something which I hoped wouldn’t have to happen. He’d also promised him that if he had to kill him, he’d make sure he received a proper burial, saying he owed it to Camilla, Dante’s mother. It had been an odd thing to say. I could understand if he felt he owed it to Sal, who’d been his friend and partner for over a decade, but to mention Camilla? There had to be something to it. Maybe he assumed Dante knew what it was. I sure as hell didn’t, and I wasn’t about to ask. I’d learned long ago, people who asked too many questions weren’t usually around long enough to hear the answers.
Franco seemed in a good mood all afternoon after talking to Dante. We enjoyed dinner. As usual, it was delicious, but the dessert made the meal. I wasn’t surprised that Franco had Teresa make up a plate for “our guest” but I was surprised when Annalisa put a piece of tiramisu on his tray. Dante seemed to like it though. I considered asking him what he knew about Franco and his mother, but thought better of it. I wouldn’t want word to get back to either side that I was asking questions.
After I’d taken the plate down to Dante, I met Franco in his office. We were going to reach out to Sal. The news today had reported that Dante Ranetti was dead. It had been reported that he’d been killed in a gun fight at the docks, his body yet to be recovered from the bay where the police assumed it had been dumped.
Franco said that this was really good news for us. He’d planned on some of Sal’s men to report back that Dante had been kidnapped. Since there hadn’t been that many guys at the dock, and we had to shoot some, no one was sure what had happened to Dante.
“It’s time to let Sal know what’s going on and see if he’s willing to play ball or if he’s going to be the selfish prick he’s turned into.” Franco put his phone on speaker and dialed the number.
“You have some fucking nerve calling me after your part in killing my son,” Sal shouted into the phone.
“First of all, your son was attempting to rob me when he was shot, so don’t go acting like I shot Dante in cold blood. And he fired first too,” Franco added. “He wasn’t innocent. He deserved to be shot.”
“Tell that to Camilla,” Sal shot back.
At the mention of Camilla’s name, Franco’s face softened. “He’s not dead.”
“That’s a fucked up thing to say. My men said he was shot. We can’t even find his body.”
“That’s because he’s here,” Franco said.
There was silence on the other end of the line. You could almost hear Sal thinking. “He’s there...or his body is?”
Again, there was silence. It was the silence of hope. There was always that feeling of hope when someone you loved had been killed that there had been some sort of mistake.
Franco was brilliant, he’d created the sorrow for Sal and C
amilla, and now he created hope. “He’s here,” Franco said calmly.
“You son of a bitch!” Sal shouted. “Do you have any idea what you’ve put Camilla through? You’re fucking sick. Enough is enough. You’re just jealous that—”
“Are you going to insult me,” Franco cut him off. “Or do you want to hear how to get him back.”
“Are you kidding me? You think I’m going to talk to you? Listen to you? You can go fuck yourself.”
“Tell that to Camilla,” Franco’s statement was the same one Sal had said to him a moment earlier and seemed to have the same effect.
Silence came over on the line.
“How do I even know you’re telling the truth? Everyone knows Dante’s body is missing.”
“I’ll put him on the phone in an hour. Make sure Camilla is there, because it might be the last time she speaks to her son. Don’t mistake what’s happened for kindness or weakness. You deserve everything you’re getting. All I want is for you to pay back what you stole from me.”
“Is that even possible?” Sal said. “You’ve got to let this go.”
“The way you let it go? The way you’ve let me run my business? Your son is here because he was trying to steal from me. All I want is what is fair. Proper repayment. I want control of the dock again, and I’ll be taking the shipment you have coming in later this month.”
“The hell you will,” Sal yelled.
“It’s your choice. I’ll let you tell your son and Camilla what you decide in an hour.” Franco hung up the phone with Sal still yelling something about him being a piece of shit.
I didn’t have to ask Franco if he’d really kill Dante if Sal didn’t come through. Franco had killed men for much less. He’d even killed his cousin once who had a serious cocaine problem and had been stealing from the strip club.
Yet, there was a little part of me that had to wonder if this was slightly different. This was the son of the man who’d been his best friend for over a decade, and there was clearly something going on in regards to Camilla. Franco wasn’t talking about it, and I let it drop.
“Find out everything you can about the gun shipment. Arti spilled the beans about it, but he doesn’t know much. All he knew was that it was worth millions. I want that and control of the dock again.”
“Do you think you’ll get it, Boss?” Donnie asked.
“I think I might, given the situation, but I want to be prepared if things go south.”
I left his office to do as he asked. I checked with a few of my guys on the street that usually had Ranetti connections. The shipment seemed to be Russian. It was weapons, mostly guns but there were a few other things expected to come into port.
There were other details, like the name of the man from Russia who was brokering the deal and some of the types of weapons. I wrote it all down, and took it to Franco.
When an hour had passed, the three of us headed to the basement.
“Come to let me out?” Dante asked, with the same smart ass attitude he’d had when we brought him in.
“That’s up to your father. It always has been. Let’s see if he comes through for you, or if he decides that a ship full of guns is worth more than you.
“I told you, he’s never going to make a deal with you. That’s not what kind of man he is.”
Franco smiled. “I’m not too worried about convincing him. It’s your mother who will convince him for me.” He took out his phone and pressed the number to call Sal again.
“Hello,” Sal said, sounding a bit uncomfortable. “Let me talk to Dante.”
“You’re really in no place to make demands, but that’s what I planned to do anyway.” Franco handed Dante the phone.
“Dad?” he said, keeping himself together. “Yes, I’m fine. How are you? How’s mom?” There was a brief pause. “Mom? Mom…don’t cry… no, they’re being… hospitable.”
Franco reached down and took the phone. “You know what I want, and you know what you need to do.”
Franco hung up the phone with Camilla still yelling into it… something about if something happened to Dante she’d make sure Franco paid.
“Damn, she still has fire,” he said to Dante. “You better hope, for your sake, that she convinces your father to make the deal.”
Dante didn’t react. In fact, his face had been like a stone since he’d spoken to his parents. He was emotionless.
I knew this look though. I’d worn it at times. He didn’t want anyone to know his true feelings.
We didn’t stay long after the phone call. I followed Franco out of the room.
Dante laid on the bed staring at the wall.
If this thing worked, it would be a miracle. It appeared Dante knew this as well. He was basically a dead man walking.
6
Annalisa
The house had been a buzz of activity all day. I tried to listen to what was going on, but everything was happening behind closed doors. I could hear yelling from my father’s office and about an hour later, I saw him and several other guys go into the basement. They weren’t down there long, but when they came back up, I felt very afraid.
If there had been any doubt as to whether I cared if Dante lived or not, all of that was erased when I imagined him lying dead in the room in the basement. I couldn’t say anything though, and I couldn’t even ask if he was still alive, if he was dead, or bleeding to death in the basement. That bothered me the most, that he could be really hurt. I wasn’t sure why I cared. I barely knew him, and he and his family had been doing terrible things to my family for as long as I could remember, including shooting people at the family restaurant named after me.
I tried to pass some of the time with Lina. She’d finished her paper and was relieved to have that off her plate. She was smart, but not very book smart. Writing papers, reading textbooks and things like that were hard for her. Ask her to help you with hair extensions, to walk in five inch heels or how to accessorize any outfit, and she was your girl. She wanted to be better at school things, and she really wanted to learn how to cook.
After spending two hours in my room doing our hair, nails and makeup, we headed down to the kitchen. I’d been quiet, not participating in the girl talk as usual. Lina chalked it up to me being upset about the shooting. Don’t get me wrong, I was upset about it, but I was also upset about Dante which upset me more.
“Hey, why don’t we go bake something?” Lina suggested once her toenails were dry.
I had told Dante I’d make him Tiramisu. It had kind of been a joke, but it made me sad to think that he’d never be able to taste it.
“Come on, it will make you feel better,” Lina said, noticing my face.
I agreed to go with her, not really feeling like baking. I considered telling her what was bothering me, but I wasn’t even sure what to say. She and I had only become friends about six months earlier. She was so much more experienced than I was when it came to men…life really. Would she think I was some silly girl who was interested in a guy she’d only met yesterday? I decided not to say anything, just follow her down to the kitchen.
As we walked through the living room, Lina ran into Marco. She threw her arms around his neck.
I looked away, not wanting to invade their privacy.
“I’ve missed you today. How come you haven’t been up at all? I thought we might have lunch together.”
I heard him kiss her quickly. “I wanted to. It was such a busy day. We have a guest in the basement who is taking up a lot of my time.”
“He’s still there?” I blurted out.
Marco looked at me, the shock evident on his face. “Yeah, he’s there. Why?”
I stared back, not really sure what to say.
“We’re on our way to make dessert,” Lina chimed in.
“Yeah. I’m going to make tiramisu and teach Lina. I just wondered about the guest is all cause, you know, I brought him dinner last night and I felt bad he didn’t have dessert. I’ll make sure he has some tonight.”
Ma
rco looked at me, still a bit confused. “He doesn’t need dessert. He’s really lucky he’ll getting good food.”
“Everyone needs dessert,” I said, a huge smile on my face as I pulled Lina into the kitchen.
“I knew baking would cheer you up,” she said, oblivious to the actual reason I felt happy.
We began making the dessert. I tried to teach Lina, but in the end, she sat on the counter and watched me make it. I enjoyed talking to her and I felt my spirit lift. I wasn’t sure how much more time Dante would be here, but it would at least be for one more night.
Dinner seemed to take forever. I was all set to take his dinner down like the night before when Marco grabbed the tray. It had a plate of the chicken and sides we’d had for dinner. It also had a small plate of the tiramisu.
“I can take that down,” I said, trying to act nonchalant.
Again, Marco looked at me as if I were under a microscope. His eyebrows were furrowed and his head was tilted to the side for a moment. “No, I got it. Thanks though.”
I’d wanted to see him so badly, and now I was just going to stand in the kitchen while Marco went down to see him.
“Hey, this is going to sound crazy, but I’m super tired,” Lina said, coming up behind me. “I know it’s so early, but I’m going to go to bed. I have this feeling that Marco will be coming in again and wanting to make love at like two in the morning.
I nodded as if I knew what that was like. Ironically, Lina had given me an idea. She was going to go to bed now, so she could be up all night. I could do the same thing. Sure, I couldn’t stay all night with Dante, but it would make staying up so late a lot easier.
I followed Lina upstairs and climbed into bed. I set the alarm on my phone for 11 pm. That would be late enough that no one would be down with Dante nor anyone walking around the main floor who might see me out of bed, heading for the basement.
