Olivetti: Illumination

by Tamilore Odimayo

  “I went to see Don Olivetti,” he said. She was delirious. Frederick Olivetti was known to only do favors in return for favors. “What!”

  “Relax! He is not as bad as people make him out to be,”

  “Unbelievable! And you do this without trying to consult your wife first?”

  Just then, they heard a knock on the door. James gazed at his wife. His heart beat increased a little.

  “Stay here!” he said to his wife as he made his way to the door. He grabbed the baseball bat by his closet. “Who is it?” he yelled out.

  “Message from Olivetti!” the voice at the door said. James Whitman eased up a little bit as he peeped through the door hole. He was immediately alarmed by what he saw. He briskly opened the door. There, on his front porch, was Chris and three other men dressed in black. There was one man on his knees. He couldn’t see his face, but he could tell the man was in pretty bad shape. He moved closer. Soon, he could see what was left of Peter Russo’s face. His trouser was full of blood. His hair was rough. His face was swollen. “What is going on?”

  “This is Peter Russo right?” Chris Gambino, Frederick’s right hand man asked. James Whitman nodded. James wife walked up to the door. “Honey I thought I told you to stay in the living room,” Mister Whitman said to his wife.

  “Actually, the message is meant for her, not you,” Chris said. Both couples were confused. Chris Slapped Peter on the head.

  “Apologize to Mrs. Whitman,” he said in an antisocial voice.

  Peter was weak. He looked like he had been tortured all day. His suit was dirty and he was missing some teeth. His prideful demeanor had vanished. Mrs. Whitman stared down at Peter Russo in disgust. “I- I’m sorry,” Peter Russo struggled to say. “You have to do better than that,” Chris said, dragging Peter Russo’s head.

  “Mrs. Whitman, I apologize for any misconduct…I apologize for making inappropriate contact with you,” Peter Russo said without hesitating. Part of James was happy to see a powerful man squeal like a little rat and the other part of him was sad by the gruesome torture.

  “Why is there blood on his pants?” James asked curiously. “Oh! We removed his left nut. A little surgery to help curb the disease he has. Apparently, your wife isn’t the only woman Peter sexually harassed. He seems to have a narc for sexually harassing his employee’s wife.” Chris said. Mrs. Whitman facial expression changed from disgust to pity. She was appalled. James was terrified. When he asked for their help, he never knew it would result in blood shed. All he wanted was a job.

  Chris Gambino’s unapologetic face stiffened the atmosphere. He nodded to the other men who then dragged Peter Russo back into the car. Chris waited until he heard the car door shut. Mrs. Whitman stood there in terror. She couldn’t move. James tried to calm his wife who was still stunned and speechless. Chris cleared his throat. He was satisfied with their facial expressions.

  “I apologize for disturbing you this late, at night Mrs. Whitman. I hope the justice done was to your satisfaction. We will not kill him, if that’s what you’re worried about. We’ll drop him off at the hospital and he should be back to work in two or three weeks depending on the damage,” He said to Mrs. Whitman then faced James.

  “James, you’ll get your job back. In fact, you’ll be given a promotion at your place of work. You have nothing to worry about from now on. I assure you. The unions won’t come after you. You’re now under the protection of Don Frederick Olivetti,” Chris Gambino said with his hands crossed below his torso then walked away graciously.

  The frightened couple stood in awe.

  Cecilia rushed to the door as she wore her bathrobe. She opened the door slightly to see who it was. “It’s me,” Frederick said. It wasn’t a coincidence that Frederick walked into her apartment building shortly after she had dialed his number. Strange as it may have seemed, she wasn’t frightened and she didn’t feel threatened. All she yearned for was an explanation.

  “How’d you find…Never mind,” she said as she opened the door. Frederick walked in calmly as if he had been to the place before. Every minute of life felt like déjà vu. He was surprised she opened the door. In the other versions of the future he saw, she didn’t open the door or let him in. It was a risk he took.

  She backed away then folded her arms almost maliciously. She glared at him. Frederick observed his future wife’s beauty. She looked stubborn and calm at the same time. Her demeanor was painfully charismatic, like a Queen. Her aura was deeply attractive. Her curves were clearly visible and her petite figure showed more signs of strength than weakness.

  “I was surprised you let me in,” Frederick said. “Well, that makes two of us. After the stunt you pulled earlier today, I’m surprised I let you come into my home,”

  Frederick smiled, not just because of her response, but because of a picture of Thomas Olivetti, his future grandson.

  “So how’d you find out what my father did to me?” she asked, trying to get the question that had been on her mind. Frederick sighed. “I – d…”

  “Don’t lie to me, Fred.” He paused. She had never called him that. For some reason, he liked that she wasn’t too formal.

  “I just know,” He said. He was willing to take a risk now that he could see his future more clearly. “What?”

  “I just know certain things about people’s past,” Frederick added. She laughed. “You’re kidding right? How? Psychic? Warlock?”

  “I can read minds. However, with you, I had to touch you to fully see your past. Reading your thought is pretty difficult,” Frederick replied. She was now half amused and half serious. She noticed that there was no humor in his tone. She gazed into his eyes. The handsome man standing in her living room didn’t look like he was joking. “So, let me get this straight, Fred. You’re telling me that you saw my past after grabbing my hands for less than five seconds?” She asked. He nodded.

  “How else would I have known?” Frederick asked. “I don’t know. Maybe my father confessed his sins to you while you guys were friends,”

  Frederick didn’t reply. She sighed. She was frustrated yet he seemed so composed. He seemed untouched by her sarcastic reactions.

  “Okay, if you can see the past, where was my favorite childhood spot?” she asked. Frederick smiled a little bit.

  “Uh I know I already creep you out, but you’re unlike other people. For you, when I try to get into your head, I just hear static noise. Like a misplaced frequency. However, when I accidentally touched you, I could see certain things,”

  “You’ve gotta be kidding, right? I let a mobster into my apartment. He tells me he can see the past, but only if he ‘touches’ me. Isn’t that what sickos say to vulnerable women?” She replied.

  “Relax, Cece. I do not violate women. It’s against my code and the code of my organization.”

  His statement caught her off guard. His eyes were deeply sincere. She hesitated, but walked towards him with her hands stretched out. He pulled one of his hands out of his pocket. Their fingers met halfway. It was a sudden rush. Her childhood memories clouded his mind like disorganized data. He gasped. She withdrew her hands after she saw his reaction.

  “There’s a small cave in the forest by your vacation home in Georgia. You were there every summer till your fourteenth birthday. It was the only place you felt safe from your…” He stopped. She was overwhelmed and scared. There was no possible way any living person in the world could have known that.

  “My childhood best friend?” she asked to test him again.

  “Betty,” he replied immediately.

  “My first vacation?”

  “London, England. You were ten years old. You visited the Buckingham palace with your mom only because your father had other businesses to attend to,”

  She couldn’t hide her shock.

  “Who was my first boyfriend?” she asked. Frederick sighed. “From what I’ve seen, you haven’t let anyone in. What your father did to you has prevented you from connecting with any other man. There was s
omeone you tried to trust, but he was only a painful reminder of who your father was,” he replied.

  Her legs were weak. She struggled to walk to the nearest chair. She knew why Frederick Olivetti was dangerous. It wasn’t because of the crimes he had committed. With that much knowledge, he was a god amongst men. Knowing someone’s past and being able to read someone’s mind. She gasped for air. The room was swirling. She had only one question on her mind.

  “Why me, Fred? Why do you want to be with me? You’ve been asking me out almost every day for the past few weeks. With your gifts, you should be able to get any woman you want in your bed. Why me?” she asked. Frederick could sense all her reactions.

  “That’s what I’m here to find out. That’s what I’ve been trying to find out since I first saw you at your father’s funeral,”

  She paused as she pondered about the dilemma she had gotten herself into.

  “If you can see the past, you can see the future too right?” She asked. Frederick nodded.

  “And you don’t have to touch me to know that, right?” Frederick nodded and smiled a little as he gazed at her beauty. No make-up on and yet Marilyn Monroe wasn’t as beautiful as she was.

  “Prove it!” she said. Frederick sighed. “In about ten seconds, a drunken couple will fall next to your door and the man will yell ‘I love you Woman. Take me to bed!’”

  She waited. They waited. Suddenly, they’re heard someone fall outside the apartment door. They could hear giggles. “I love you woman! Take me to bed!” the male voice said as their laughter and drunkenness faded away. She stood up, overwhelmed.

  “The phone will ring in sixteen seconds. It’ll be your friend. She doesn’t usually call you at this time of the night, but this time around, it’s because she wants to remind you to return her red umbrella,” Frederick added again. Sixteen seconds later, the phone rang. She rushed to the phone. It was her friend.

  “Hey Cece, sorry to bother you this late, can you bring my umbrella to the house tomorrow? I don’t have another and I would hate to go to the store to buy another,” the voice on the phone, her friend, said. Cecilia’s legs began to wobble. She was terrified. She hung up without responding.

  “W-what are you?” she asked. “I don’t know.”

  “Why are you telling me this, do you go around telling everyone?” she asked frantically. Frederick shook his head.

  “No. You’re the first person I’ve ever told,” he replied in a tone of absolute sincerity. She was breathing heavily.

  “That means you know everything I’m about to ask before I ask. That means you must have probably thought about all possible scenarios before coming here. That means you – you…” she stopped.

  She began to hyperventilate. Her head swirled. The dizziness was exhausting. Right then, she was sure of two things. One: she was in love with a mob boss; a man so strange, yet so familiar. Two, she knew her life would never remain the same.

  She fainted.

  22

  Present day

  “Rumors have been put to rest as Thomas Olivetti, victim of the plane crash that occurred seven and a half years ago, was found alive. Sources say he was found in Miami by law enforcement agents and has now made his way to the New York Supreme Court to reinstate his identification. The FBI is currently holding an ongoing investigation. Sources also suggest that his apparent death and disappearance might be a result of terrorism and a recurring mob war. Details about where he was in the past few years are yet to be determined. I am Amy Woods, WNBC”

  It was all on television. Thomas Olivetti’s resurrection had suddenly made tremendous news coverage. Every news network was interested in his story; how he survived and where he had spent the last seven years. There were so many questions. Don Sanchez watched as Tom Olivetti made his way out of the court house. News reporters surrounded him like bees on honey. He scoffed then turned off the television.

  “His life will bring death to his family. We strike now while their defenses are weak,” Don Sanchez said.

  “Are you sure about this, father? The media is all over them. We might draw attention to ourselves,” Julio Sanchez said.

  “Avenge your brother, Billy. Stop giving excuses. He will never have done that if you were dead and he was alive,” Don Sanchez said with contempt. He was old and grey. Julio, his second son was now running the business in the shadow of his father. He sighed.

  “Okay Padre,”

  Tom walked into his home, hoping it would trigger his memories. It didn’t. He glanced around like a stranger. There was nothing he could recollect. He walked into the living room. It felt extremely livid. He was about to meet people who were supposed to be his family. His case of amnesia was delicate. He could read their minds, but it all had limits. He couldn’t see his past and couldn’t hear thoughts that revealed his past. Nina was on her way to New York. Tom couldn’t wait to see her. He longed for her presence. Everyone and everything else seemed redundant.

  He stared at the large family portrait in the living room; His father—Walter Olivetti, his adopted mother—Beatrice Olivetti, his two sisters—Francesca and Sara Olivetti, were on the portrait. Despite the fact that Beatrice and Walter were now divorced, Catherine, Tom’s biological mother, refused to take down the portrait for his sake. She wanted to reduce any sudden shock he might perceive from his new family. He stood by the picture, holding a glass of fine wine in one hand.

  He was wearing a black tuxedo for the night’s gala. Catherine was having a return party in Tom’s name. New York’s dignitaries were to attend. Waiters and Party organizers paced around the living room in a state of frenzy. Tom managed to block the noise by just staring at the portrait. He imagined what life would have been like if he didn’t get on the plane. He also wondered what life would be like if he didn’t spend seven years of his life engaging in the illuminati initiation process. He wondered what life would have been like if he spent those seven years with Nina Owen. He knew all was for a purpose. He didn’t regret meeting Julianna. He didn’t regret the memories he had of Italy and all the continents he had to go during the past seven years.

  “Thomas dear!” Catherine, his biological mother said. Tom turned towards his mother. Ever so radiant. Ever so beautiful. He could see himself in her. It was no surprise that his father was madly in love with her.

  “Yes mother,” Tom said in a European accent. Catherine sighed then smiled. “I have to get used to this accent of yours,” Tom smiled in response. She gazed at her son. He had her eyes. He was like a god. Everything about him was perfect; his stature, his character, his decorum, his scent, his hair—everything.

  She didn’t know where he had been in the past seven years, but whatever he did to make himself look this way was beyond transcendent. She was however sorry that his presence was causing too much attention. She could now see why he wanted to keep his existence a secret from the family. She couldn’t imagine being locked up in a federal interrogation facility. She thanked her lucky stars that they were all from well-connected families. It would have been bad if her son rose up from the dead only to be locked up in prison.

  “I think you should go to your room while we prepare the ballroom, downstairs. Your father has a gift for you,” she said with her hands on his face. She couldn’t let go. He was her little boy. He kissed her on both sides of the cheeks. “Okay mother. I’ll see you in a bit,”

  He had not been in his bedroom in seven years. He walked up the flight of stairs focused on one thing only. He ignored the body guards staring at him. He walked briskly past the large hallway as he brushed past all the doors. He didn’t know how, but he knew, or at least had an idea which of the multiple bedrooms was his. He cracked the door open. The room smelt like it had been vacant for years. He walked in with careful steps as he looked around. His bed, his mini living room, his walk-in closet, his computer corner and everything in it, felt ecstatic. He stared at his old clothes. All seemed untouched. It didn’t look like anything was given away.

  He
then stared at his computer table. There was a parcel. He instantly knew what it was. He could see through it: Two keys. He sighed as he opened it. There was a key to a Bugatti and a key with a picture of a condo in Manhattan, attached to it. He sighed again. Material gifts. He was only interested in his lost memories.

  Julianna got into the limo. Nina struggled to keep up with her speed. Their flight to New York was awkward. Their conversations were straight to the point, nothing overly engaging. Julianna had introduced herself as Tom’s colleague. Dean walked Nina to the limo.

  “It’s a long drive to Long Island from here. Tom’s ball will be starting soon.” Nina smiled in response as he closed the door. Soon, the car was moving and minutes felt like weeks with Julianna next to her.

  Julianna could read Nina’s thoughts clearly. There were no emotional hindrances affecting her ability to read Nina’s thoughts. She was overwhelmingly engaged with thoughts of Tom and their teen years. Nina was also thinking about Julianna’s rigidity. Julianna cleared her throat. Nina turned towards Julianna. Nina had questions that might be difficult to answer.

  “You can ask,” Julianna said in a most spectacular voice. She didn’t look human, she looked angelic. Nina had a sense of insecurity knowing that Tom and Julianna had been friends. She gazed at Julianna, confused by her statement. “Ask what?”

  “You have questions on your mind. I know,” Julianna replied. Nina smiled uncomfortably. “Well, You and Tom…”

  “We’re friends,” Julianna replied abruptly. Even after years of infallible lies, she still couldn’t sound sincere about her relationship with Tom. The truth was that she loved Tom, still. Nina sighed.

  “I see the way you look at Tom. If you want, I-I’ll stay away,” Nina replied. It sent a shock through Julianna’s spine.

  “No! No! No! Tom’s heart belongs to you. You two undeniably belong to each other. I won’t stand in the way of that,”