“What’s the baby’s name?” Nina finally asked.
“Tom – Tom junior,” Donna replied. Nina smiled. A streak of surprise emerged on Donna’s face. She realized how wrong she was for trying to start an argument with Nina. She wished she hadn’t been spiteful. She smiled back in return.
“Will you like to hold Tom junior?” Donna asked Nina. Nina nodded. It was Donna’s way of apologizing for trying to start and argument.
“Yes! I will!” Nina replied, wiping her tears and stretching out her arms to hold the baby.
“He is so cute,” Nina added, as she stared into the babies eyes. The baby didn’t have any similar physical characteristics with Tom. Donna smiled in response, “Yes he is. Isn’t he?”
“He looks more like you though,” Nina replied. Donna returned a nervous smile.
“Just so you know, Tom would have been an awesome father to Tom Junior,” Nina replied, trying to break the awkward silence.
“I know. He loved us so much,” Donna replied.
Catherine was standing at the west side of the building, by the front Porch. She could see Nina, Donna and the baby from a distance. She had to leave the cocktail party to breathe. Watching everyone pay their respects to Beatrice Olivetti for Tom’s death was upsetting. It made her feel uncomfortable. She felt left out. Her flesh and blood was dead and no one could acknowledge her pain as his mother.
The pain she was going through was enormous, too much for one person to bear. Her father and her son died in one solemn night. It wasn’t easy staying in the shadow. Only a handful of people knew who Tom’s real mother was and still, none of them came to pay their respects to her.
She could feel Walter’s anger towards Don Olivetti, at the funeral. She was more worried about Walter’s emotional state than she was about hers. Perhaps, it was a way to cope with her true feelings.
“You could at least pretend to want to be at your son’s funeral,” Beatrice Olivetti said spitefully, as she walked closer to Catherine.
Catherine sighed without glancing at her.
“It doesn’t matter what I do, no one knows who his real mother is anyway,” Catherine replied blankly.
“That’s right, they all think it’s me – considering that I practically raised him myself, I deserve the credit,” Beatrice replied maliciously.
“Yes you’re right. You deserve the credit and I never thanked you for taking care of him – like your own child,” Catherine replied without malicious intent. Beatrice scoffed as she drank her glass of wine.
“Well, now that you have no reason to be here, where would you be moving to?” Beatrice asked. Catherine was stunned by Beatrice’s cold question. Still, she understood a woman’s need to protect her husband from any past temptation.
Catherine cleared her throat. “Well, my late father left me tons of money to last me a life time. So I’ll be doing a lot of travelling,” Catherine said to ease Beatrice’s mind, even though she had no intent of travelling.
“Hmm good! New York isn’t a place for you anyways. It’s too…What’s the word? – Sad! I bet the memories of your father, son and husband – actually, you killed your husband, so he doesn’t matter. Well, let’s hope his family doesn’t come after you,” Beatrice said insensitively then walked away. Her coldness had no limit. She had imagined Beatrice as a sympathetic human being; the loving mother, the loving wife, or the rational woman who saw reason beyond the emotion. She was clearly wrong.
She couldn’t wait to leave and start a new life, but no matter where she went, her past always followed her like a lion tracing the scent of its next prey. She dreamt of moving to her father’s mansion in Madrid to cope with the pain.
She walked towards Nina, Donna and the baby. “Hi!” Catherine said. Donna turned towards Catherine. She had no idea who Catherine was and Catherine intended to keep that a secret.
“I’m Catherine,” Catherine said, introducing herself to Donna for the first time. She had heard about Donna through Walter, but had never met her.
“I’m Donna,” Donna replied with a smile.
“I’m curious, are you a friend of the family or a family relative?” Donna asked curiously.
“A little bit of both,” Catherine replied vaguely. There was a brief moment of silence.
“That’s cool, I guess. Tom will certainly be missed,” Donna replied to break off the uncomfortable silence.
Catherine gazed at the baby.
“And this should be Tom’s baby right?” Catherine asked, pretending she didn’t know who the baby was.
“Yes,” Donna replied.
“May I?” Catherine asked, gesturing to hold the baby.
“Yea sure!” Donna replied. Catherine held the baby in her arms gently.
“He is going to be strong,” Catherine said, playing with the baby’s hands.
“Oh yes! He will be,” Nina added, smiling. Just then, a bodyguard assigned to protect Donna and her baby walked up to them.
“It’s getting dark! We have to get you and the baby back home,” the bodyguard said to Donna. Donna nodded and gestured to hold the baby.
“Well, I guess this is goodbye from me,” Donna said. “It’s nice meeting you Donna,” Catherine said. “Same,” Donna replied.
“If you need any help babysitting, don’t hesitate to call me,” Nina said to Donna with utmost sincerity.
“I won’t,” Donna said, walking away with the baby and her new bodyguard. Nina and Catherine watched them walk away then turned back to Tom’s tomb stone.
“I can only imagine what you’re going through,” Nina said thoughtfully, knowing Catherine must be in serious emotional pain. Catherine sighed.
“I’ve cried so much, I doubt I have any more tears left,” Catherine said with bittersweet humor. Nina nodded in response. There was another brief silence.
“Thank you!” Catherine said.
“For what?” Nina asked curiously.
“For being there for me,” Catherine replied with sincere gratitude. Nina was her sole comfort through the plane crash ordeal. They had grown closer during their one month stay in Canada. The agony of watching the plane crash on live News Networks was painful for both – especially Catherine.
“You were also there for me,” Nina replied. Catherine held Nina’s hand.
“I can understand why Tom loved you,” Catherine said. “You have a really good heart. You would have made a beautiful wife to my son,” She added.
“So, how is Mrs. Olivetti dealing with this? I saw you guys talking earlier,” Nina asked.
Catherine sighed, “She wants me out of her life as soon as possible.”
“Women,” Nina said with a little humor. Both laughed.
“I’m impressed,” Catherine said.
“You really handled Donna well. When I was your age, I’d have ripped off her prissy little hair,” Catherine added, trying to take Nina’s mind away from Tom’s death. Nina laughed.
“Well, I am angry, but there’s no man to fight over now,” Nina replied. “Besides, she was just one of Tom’s flings,” Nina added.
“Flings? That’s what you guys call it now?”
Both laughed.
“He reminds me of his father; strong and smart. Yet both were notorious for making stupid decisions,” Catherine joked. Both laughed.
“So what next?” Catherine asked Nina.
“Well, I guess College. Tom wanted me to go to the University of Miami. He did all the registration paperwork before he died. He treated my safety as a priority,” Nina replied.
“I think I’ll abide by his wishes. Besides, I need a break from New York until this whole mafia war thing ends,” Nina replied.
“True! It’s safer for you to stay in Miami. I have a condo in south Miami that you could use anytime you want,” Catherine said. Nina smiled.
“I kind of want to experience life by myself – you know, like, be a waitress, pay my bills, take out ridiculous amounts of student loans,” Nina said.
Catherine
nodded, “I understand”.
“Well, if you need anything and I mean anything! Call me!” Catherine added.
Nina nodded, “I most definitely will,”
Walter stormed into the warehouse. It was well lit with florescent lights. Stacks of industrial paper were arranged neatly at every corner. The floor was white and clean, just the way his father, Frederick Olivetti, liked it. Walter walked briskly through the warehouse with two bodyguards following closely behind him. Don Olivetti was right behind them with four extra bodyguards. It took them a lot of diversion tricks to make sure they weren’t being followed by the press or by cops. The last thing they wanted was to feed the rumors already being spread by the media.
They walked into an office with tinted glass windows. The engineer was tied to a chair. Above him was a light so bright, it almost blinded him. The extreme heat emanating from the light caused streams of sweat and burns on his skin. Olivetti guards surrounded him. Walter walked into the office. They cleared a pathway for him.
“What’s your name?” Walter asked the engineer vehemently.
The engineer, a bald white male with a big body build scoffed. He tried to create a tough face behind his thick glasses but was almost unsuccessful. It was hard to be tough with the torture he was expecting.
“Who wants to know?” the engineer responded. Walter smiled impatiently. He removed his jacket and handed it to over to one of his bodyguards. He folded his sleeves then loosened his tie in seconds.
“Can I see the security tape?” Walter asked one of the guards.
“Sure boss!” the guard said as he placed the tape into a video player and clicked the play button. Walter patiently observed the tape. He could see the engineer tampering with the plane’s engines. He was silent and so was everyone. The anger was building and they could feel it. They stared at Walter, wondering what he was about to do.
“I just wanted to confirm it was you,” Walter said then sighed. This time, the engineer’s tough face slowly transcended to fear. His aura changed.
“Now, tell me, before I’m forced to make you suffer for no reason – what’s your name?” Walter asked. The engineer scoffed.
“His name is James Miller boss,” A guard responded. Walter looked at the guard then looked at James Miller, disgusted by his cockiness.
“Who sent you?” Walter asked patiently, pacing around the engineer like a predator sizing its prey. Don Olivetti watched from the other end of the room, unperturbed by what was about to occur.
“I can’t say, either ways I’m dead. Right?” James Miller replied scornfully. Walter laughed.
“You’re wrong! See, the thing is, you killed my only son. So I’m not going to kill you, I’m going to kill your entire family instead – ‘an eye for an eye’ doesn’t apply in this case,” Walter replied. Don Olivetti couldn’t hide the shock from his face. His brother wasn’t a violent person. His brother was certainly not one to kill innocent family members.
“I’ve never really been a man of violence. I always felt it was better to talk things through. However, after Tom’s death, I realized something – I’m the son of a gangster, a thug, the most feared mafia family in New York – why do I have to pretend to be something I’m not? Should a lion act like a domestic cat?” Walter added theatrically and sadistically. Anger churned his stomach and the sweat on his face showed it. Veins popped out and his breathing pace increased. He looked and sounded like a diagnosed psychopath.
The engineer sat there in fear. “Look man! I was paid and sent! I was forced to do it! My family was threatened. I had no idea who it was going to affect,” James Miller replied.
Walter nodded continuously as he paced around the room. The room felt smaller. He zeroed in on the engineer like no one else was in the room.
“Fine, you don’t need to answer any of my questions,” Walter said, ignoring James Miller’s statement as he grabbed a baseball bat.
“The Sanchez family sent you with the help of the Cartels – it’s time I send them a message,” Walter said. With one swipe, he hit the James Miller on the face with the bat. Blood splashed as two teeth cracked out of James Miller’s mouth. The engineer growled in pain as he spat out blood from his mouth.
“Look I’m sorry! I have a family depending on me. Please let me go and I’ll try to make things right,” James Miller replied apologetically as he growled in pain. Walter stopped. Don Olivetti and the guards in the room watched in awe. Walter’s violent side had never been seen.
Walter paced around the room, adjusted his shirt and wiped the sweat from his face.
“You have two options,” Walter began.
“One: You go to the police and confess you had something to do with the plane crash. You must drag the Sanchez and maybe the Cartel with you to prison. Your wife and family will be demonized. They will be known as the family of the terrorist. You will be a shame to your family and your children will forever be ashamed of having the same last name with you. Two: you can decide not to confess to the police and help me kill the Sanchez members, but I will still have to kill someone in your family,” Walter said.
Walter’s options sent chills through the spines of everyone in the room. Don Olivetti tried to remain calm.
“That doesn’t sound like much of an option. Either ways, my family will still be hurt,” James Miller cried out in pain.
“You think the Cartels haven’t threatened my family too?” James added, laughing.
“Do what you want with me, but please don’t harm my family,” he added again.
Walter lost his patience. He held the baseball bat with a firm grip then started hitting the engineer with the bat over and over again. Blood splattered everywhere; on his face, on the walls, on the guards standing around him.
A minute later, Walter stopped, panting furiously. By this time, James Miller’s face was almost unrecognizable. Broken parts of the engineer’s glasses were inside his skin due to the impact of the baseball bat on his face. The engineer could barely growl.
“I’m not going to kill you now. Not this way. Na – That’s too easy!” Walter said.
“I need to send a message to everyone who messes with an Olivetti. You will confess your crimes on video. I will spare your family because they had nothing to do with your foolish desperate decisions. However, you owe me your life,” Walter said as he walked out of the warehouse.
Everyone else remained motionless. The gruesomeness was too much to bare.
2
Present day
“No! No! Please!” James Miller yelled in despair, almost choking in his own saliva. He was suspended upside down on a helicopter over a New York suburban area. He couldn’t hear himself think due to the noise from the helicopter. He could feel blood rush to his brain as one of his legs dangled on one rope. Attached to his body was a CD containing his videotaped confessions and two forty-five pound Weights.
Wind gushed on his face as regrets flowed through his mind. Never did he imagine that he could be used as a pawn by the Cartels. The Cartels must have known the Olivettis will kill him – it was all part of their game.
“Please! Please! I have a family and I want to see them again!” James Miller yelled.
“You will see them again! As a matter of fact, you’re going down to them,” one of the Olivetti guards yelled. James looked down and realized the helicopter was right on top of his neighborhood. Before James Miller could reply, one of the guards cut the rope.
The feeling was horrible, falling from the sky. He was in a state of pure hopelessness. He was blinded by the wind gushing into his eyes. The fall seemed to be faster due to the weights attached to his body. He closed his eyes. The last thought emerged in his mind.
“Fuck you Olivetti”. Seconds later, he felt a brief morbid impact on the roof of a suburban house. Blood splattered. He was dead.
Walter Olivetti walked into the penthouse of Trump Towers where Catherine was. He hadn’t seen her since the funeral and it killed him to imagine how much pain she was
going through. He nodded at the guards in front of her apartment door. They let him in without hesitating. He walked in and signaled to his own guards not to disturb.
“Catherine!” Walter called out as he glanced around the living area for her. “Just a minute,” she responded as Walter walked to the large glass windows with a perfect view of the city. Catherine walked out of her room to the living room.
“Walt!” Catherine said. He turned towards her. She was beautiful, even though she looked tired – tired of crying. She also looked like she had not left the apartment in a while.
“What’s going on Walt!?” She asked curiously.
Walter walked closer to her.
“The engineer who crashed the plane is dead!” Walter replied vehemently, expecting a sigh of relief from Catherine. Catherine shook her head then walked towards the kitchen.
“What!? What!? You should be happy – I’m avenging our son’s death,” Walter added. Catherine brought out a bottle of wine and poured a cup full, for herself alone.
“Death only causes more death! When is this going to end?” Catherine replied after drowning a mouth full of wine into her mouth.
Walter’s countenance changed. He was disappointed— disappointed that she would say that after their son’s death—disappointed that she wasn’t vengeful—disappointed that she didn’t support his only source of acceptance.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Walter replied. There was a long brief silence.
“If you think I’m going to let the people who killed my son, walk away, scot free, then you must be a joker,” Walter added in a disdainful and disappointed tone.
Catherine scoffed. “A joker?” Catherine asked. She laughed.
“I knew you were trouble from the very day I met you – all you bring is trouble and pain,” Catherine yelled, throwing her wine glass on the floor. Walter’s emotions switched from anger to shock.
“I never! Never! Never! Never got to spend any time with my son! And you’re out there spreading your vendetta problems without realizing who is really affected in this whole mess!” Catherine yelled as Walter stood there blankly, realizing how much damage he had caused to the woman he loved the most.
Olivetti: Illumination Page 2
