by Amy Rachiele
I immediately assess our situation. Clearly, the Chicago underground uses this place like we use the restaurant, and Sommersville uses a Laundromat. We are in one of the hundreds of meat processing plants in Chicago. They wouldn’t deliberately take us here unless they plan on killing us. And since they haven’t yet, I can only assume they plan on making it slow and painful.
“Aww, look, Pop, he’s awake,” sarcasm and scorn drip from Dino’s words. He limps in through the door, Luigi behind him. They saunter over to me.
Dino lifts his head up to look at me threateningly and grabs my nipple twisting hard. “Is it cold in here, Delisi?”
I shove his hand away, and the movement causes me to swing.
“What?! Seriously?! Is that all you got? You are such a fuckin’ pansy! Always have been, always will be,” I grind out.
Dino does exactly what I expect him to do. He raises his fist to hit me. I reach for it and grab him before he can land one on me. I use his own force and push. He falls back, crying out in pain, “Fan-gul!” My body swings, and I collide with a side of beef.
“So, Dino, what hurts more? Vito shooting you in the leg, or my girl hitting you with a car?” I goad as I rock back and forth in the air. His face inflames. He’s mad.
“The great Antonio Delisi has found a little bit of trouble for himself,” Luigi says spitefully. “I love seeing you up there like a dumb animal caught in a trap.”
Dino laughs, “I’m so sick of hearin’ his name, Pop. Antonio this and Antonio that.” Dino spits at me. I duck and throw my fist out. It connects with the side of his head. I was going for a full jaw punch, but I’ll take what I can get.
Dino doesn’t come at me again because Patrick starts to come to. He is waking up. He shakes his head trying to clear it, a confused expression on his face as he looks around.
A guy comes in and says, “He’s back.” Luigi and Dino don’t say anything, but leave in a hurry.
Patrick flails and struggles, his burly hands and arms sway.
“Patrick,” I whisper. “Patrick,” I say a little louder.
He’s dazed, but sees me.
“Shit,” he says, and closes his eyes.
“Patrick,” I call again.
“What?” he says, annoyed.
Is he aggravated with me? Are you fuckin’ kidding me?
“You got any ideas?!” I ask.
“I’m thinking,” he says.
“Well, think fuckin’ faster. I’m freezing!”
Our conversation ends because we hear people coming back. They’re talking and coming our way. Dino hobbles in first, then two guys I don’t know, must be Chicago mob, then Luigi. Following behind them all...is Uncle Tutti? Holy Shit! My uncle!
“Patrick and Antonio, how nice to see you here in Chicago,” my uncle’s voice is callous and severe. I examine my uncle. His face is blotchy, and there are bruises along his cheek.
My legs are getting very numb. I question whether I’ll be able to stand on them, if I could get down. My hands feel thick and hot because of all the blood that has settled in them from being upside down. My uncle’s betrayal settles in my stomach like rancid hamburger on a hot summer night, maggots and all.
Uncle Tutti walks over and stands right next to Patrick. “It’s too bad your daughter couldn’t be here.” My head shoots up, and Patrick stills. “She’s a feisty one, I’ll give her that.” He is taunting us. “But she got what was coming to her after all these years.” Patrick’s face darkens. I can tell he’s trying not to take the bait. He wants to ask what he’s talking about and if she’s all right.
So I take the bait. “What are you talking about?”
“What a sweet girl she is. Plays the harp. Smart. My brother was smart too.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? You don’t have a brother.”
“Oh, no, Tonio, I did,” he says to me, walking my way.
“He was young when he went to live in Ireland. He was sent there to train with the Irish mob.” He pauses then explains. “It’s sort of like an exchange student thing.” He adds pensiveness and mockery to his voice. “It builds alliances and opens up territory. He loved it there and decided to stay.”
“You never met him because you were only a little boy when Miss Megan fired a shot right through his heart. He bled out on the floor in lone cottage on a hillside in Ireland.”
“Nonna never mentioned him,” I hiss.
“She couldn’t,” he says. “The Boss wouldn’t allow anyone to talk about what went down in Ireland.” Vengeance seeps into his words.” It was humiliating to have two enforcers murdered by a five-year-old,” he yells. “It was dropped, forgotten, a mistake! They pushed it under the rug, and stomped on the memory of my brother.”
“You’re blaming a child who shot someone that was breaking into her house, probably to kill! Are you crazy?!”
“No, I’m not blaming just Megan. I blame him,” he points to Patrick.
“What the hell does that have to do with me?” I seeth.
“I’m killing two birds with one stone,” he says. “Your father has been boss long enough, Tonio. He’s been ordering me around for years. I’m entitled. I’m crushing his empire one person at a time.” He smashes his fist in his palm for emphasis.
“So you hooked up with the Prazzo’s?! You are oobatz!”
“No, I’m not crazy, Tonio. I’m smart.” Uncle Tutti walks towards Patrick. “The hospital was quiet. What a nice room too, at the end of the hallway.”Adrenaline singes through my deadened legs. She has to be okay. She’s with Vito, and Carlo. “Megan was pretty, and so was her sister.”
I freeze and red forms over my eyes. Now I know for sure that he’s gone after her. My throat tightens with a lump at the vile and appalling thought of Megan hurt. Patrick is stone-faced, dangling.
Rage, feral and raw, bubbles under my skin. My fists clench. He is totally baiting us. I’ve been around this life too long not to know this. But the fury and anger build all the same. The need to crush everyone in this room manifests itself, so that, when the time comes, I will have no control.
Chapter 18
Bellissima (bel-e-see-ma): beautiful
Megan:
I wake and find myself in a palace. Creams and golds line the walls with huge moldings and chandeliers. Ornate furniture decorates the room, bigger than my living room in Palmetto.
I turn my head and see Erin. She is lying is a hospital bed in the middle of this strange room. On a cot no higher than coffee table, is Vito, lying on his stomach.
I look down at myself, and I’m wearing a satin nightgown. The movement of my head causes me to cry out. My throat burns and scratches. I feel the skin at my neck, it is sore and inflamed. I move to get up, and my back screams in protest, halting me.
“You shouldn’t get up yet,” a youthful voice says. In the seating area in the middle of the room is a young girl curled up with a book. “Doc Howie says you all need lots of rest.”
She is pixie-like, small with dark hair, bluntly cut, and huge brown eyes. “I’m Clarissa,” she says, coming towards me. “My brother brought you here.” Her brother? “Are you hungry?”
I shake my head no. I speak but my voice comes out scratchy. “Where are we?”
“La Bella Regale. My pop owns this casino.” She sits on my bed.
“Carlo’s your brother?” I whisper.
“Yeah,” she says smiling. Clearly, she loves her brother a lot.
“How’s my sister?”
“Doc Howie says it’s gonna take time.” I don’t like the sound of that. At the hospital, they said she would be fine, her vitals are good, that’s he just needs rest.
“He’ll be here soon. He is coming back to check on you.”
“What times is it?”
“Five a.m.”
“The doctor is going to come here that early in the morning?”
“He lives here.”
“He lives here?” I question.
“He’s on staff here,”
she says, like that’s the most normal thing in the world. Great, resident doctor...just like Michael Jackson!
“Do you live here?”
“Yup. My dad and brother too.”
Just then, Vito stirs and sits up. “Shit,” he sighs. He manages a glance around and sees Erin’s hospital bed. He gets up and stands over it, holding on to the bedrail. He checks her out then turns to me.
“Are you okay?” he asks from across the room.
“Yeah.”
We are quiet just staring at each other. Without Vito’s help, I think Uncle Tutti would have accomplished his goal of killing me. I suck in a breath. Adolfo!
“So did Adolfo work for Uncle Tutti?”
“I guess so,” Vito says.
“He worked for us for the past year,” Clarissa interjects.
Vito sees the young girl perched on the end of my bed. Clarissa blushes and looks down at the blankets,
“Hi,” she says shyly.
“Hi,” Vito says. “You Carlo’s little sister?”
“Yeah.” Clarissa is bright pink through her olive skin. I didn’t think that was possible.
My eyes fill with tears when I think about Antonio. Where is he?
“Vito? Where’s Antonio? Can we call him?”
“Yeah, Red.”
“Carlo tried to call a bunch of times...no answer,” Clarissa states.
“Will he find us here?”
“Don’t worry, Red. I’ll go looking for him.”
Vito walks to the phone on the nightstand and dials. I wait, the anticipation killing me. He shakes his head. “It just goes to voicemail. Mannegia!” He slams the receiver down.
A door on the other side of the room, probably the length of a baseball field, opens.
A tall man with glasses comes in. He’s carrying a clipboard.
“Oh, you’re awake. How is everyone feeling?” he asks congenially. Without waiting for a response, he says, “I’m Doctor Marco. But, please, call me Howie.”
Vito steps forward and shakes hands with Doctor Howie. “You’ve got some serious burns young man. I’d like to take another look at them in a little while, if you don’t mind. It’s important to keep an eye on them.”
Vito nods as the doctor comes over to me. He gently lifts my chin, examining my neck. “Nasty,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “Open for me please. Let me take a look at your throat.” He pulls a tiny flashlight out of his pocket. I open my mouth, and he shines the light in.
“You are a very lucky young lady. If that rope dug in anymore, you could have some serious complications.” He shines the light in my eyes, examining me closely. I can smell his breath.
“So far, so good,” he holds my wrist and takes my pulse, counting on his watch. “Good,” he says again.
He pulls a stethoscope out and helps me to sit forward. He puts it on my back and listens for a minute. “Good.” Vito stands over me watching all of this.
“Clarissa? Could you go get me that bottle on the counter over there and a glass of water?”
“Sure,” she says brightly, popping off the bed. She reminds me of my sister.
“What about my sister?” I ask Doctor Howie.
“Well...she’s a different story.” Ugh, not good.
Chapter 19
Sticazzi (sti-ca-zee): I don’t give a fuck!
Antonio:
Gunfire erupts in another room, the sound unmistakable. Dino grabs a gun out of his jeans and hobbles behind the crowd of thugs that captured us, rushing to the commotion. We are alone again.
Without hesitation, I bend myself in half, reaching for the hook in the ceiling. I grab it. I shimmy my tied feet off and let them drop. I’m about five or six feet off the ground. I let go, and fall to the filthy cement, landing on my thigh. I sit up and untie my legs, all the while, glad that I stay in shape.
I run over to Patrick. The floor is sticky with butcher-sludge and grime. How the fuck do I get him down?
“Get the table,” Patrick says, pointing.
A large metal table, the height of a counter, is against the wall. Bits of bone, sinew, and all sizes of knives are on it. As I drag it, it scraps and squeals across the cement making a racket, but it still isn’t as loud as the shoot-out in the other room.
I position it under Patrick and jump up on to it. I grab one of the butcher knives and reach up to cut the rope.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Just do it,” Patrick breathes out, steadying himself to hit the table. Patrick falls onto the table, quite gracefully for a middle-aged guy. He grabs a knife too. Then takes another one and puts it in his pocket. We climb down.
So, two guys, barefoot and shirtless, three knives, against guns and a shit-load more than two people... Not good odds.
Using his knife to point, Patrick motions me to the side of the doorway. I go, and he stands on the other side. He nods, and I poke my head around the corner. Just an industrial style hallway, no windows. I nod, and Patrick moves. We stay low and quickly move towards the mayhem, our knives held high. I check behind us every so often, making sure no one else is coming.
A bullet wizzes by my ear. Both Patrick and I dive to the floor, clutching our knives, and flip over to see where it came from. Running fast is a guy I have to assume works for the Chicago mob or Uncle Tutti. He fires again, and the bullet pings into the wall above our heads.
In seconds, he is on top of us. I don’t give him a chance to aim again. I jump up and kick him square in the chest. He flies back. Patrick moves quickly and is up too. He wastes no time and hammers the guy, sprawled on the floor, in the face with his elbow, crunching bones. Then Patrick jams a knife in his chest. I swipe the fallen gun off the floor. Patrick takes it from me, and shoots the guy in the temple. This whole thing goes down like we have rehearsed it a million times. Our motions are fluid and precise.
We make it to the fray. It’s the storefront of the butcher shop. Large white display cases with the glass blown out are all around the room. Shredded fragments of meat litter the floor and stick to the walls. The front windowpanes are just jagged pieces of hanging glass. Patrick and I crouch down in the doorway, weighing the enemy.
Three people are lying on the tiled floor. I search the faces. None of them are Uncle Tutti. He’s not here. That spineless son of a bitch! I need answers! Megan’s beautiful face flashes through my mind.
The gun-fire slows, and I hear a voice yelling from outside. There is no one left standing in the room. They’re either gone or dead. The sun is just peaking over the horizon, and soft natural light pours in through the gaping hole in the front windows.
Patrick moves forward to the side of a metal case. He puts his back to it. This place is just a mess of carnage — blood, glass, and soured meat. I put the back of my hand to my nose in a feeble attempt to block the smell. Fuck! It’s a nod or I won’t soon forget. My stomach lurches.
I hear my name. Someone outside is talking about me. The voice sounds like Carlo. I slither to the case across from Patrick. A lifeless body is lying next to it, gore coats its shirt. I strain to hear what is going on outside. Patrick is listening too. Muffled voices, only a few words audible, travel through to where we are.
“Carlo!” I call out.
I strain to listen for a response, and a hand grabs my leg. I just react. I jam my knife into the person’s chest. I look at the face. It’s Dino. He has two slugs in his chest and now a knife hole. He is rasping. His breathing is quick like a rabbit. His eyes are wide open, struggling for life. I wrench my knife out, slick with Dino’s blood. His hand wraps around my leg.
Betrayal. It’s ugly. It is a cavernous wound, seen and unseen. I run my eyes over the bodies again, this time looking for Luigi, he’s not here. He left his son to die.
“Tonio! You in there?” Carlo yells to me.
“Yeah!” I shout back.
“We’re coming in!”
Patrick stretches for a gun lying in a puddle of aftermath, and throws it to me. I tuck myself tighter behind th
e case, not sure if I can trust Carlo. Dino is lying next to me, sucking in strangled breaths.
Sirens sound in the distance, Patrick and I brace for what’s to come.
“Tonio?” Carlo calls from in the room.
“Drop your weapons!” Patrick says, evenly and demanding. He lifts the gun and locks it on Carlo. He is standing with three other guys I don’t know. They immediately raise their weapons and train them on Patrick.
It’s a stand-off. Who’s the bad guy, who’s the good guy?
“What happened to Megan?”I am peering around to watch him while he talks.
“Fuck, Tonio! Your uncle must have paid off Adolfo.” He kicks a body on the floor. Adolfo! “He came into the hospital room...drugged me and, I think, Vito. I tried to hit him, but the stuff knocked me out too fast. I don’t remember anything but the nurses and some security guards trying to wake me up.”
“Where are they?” I ask coldly, but truly apprehensive to know. Everyone is still wary, guns ready. The air is cold with friction.
“They’re at the casino. My pop moved them all there, even your girl’s sister so Doc Howie could look after her.”
I ponder this. I know Uncle Tutti has tranquilizers — he used them on us. I decide to take my chances with Carlo. He was with Megan when this shit went down.
Dino is rasping, and bleeding out from his wounds. If this situation were different, I would call for an ambulance. I’m not sure of the outcome, and my ass is on the line. I know he would kill me if given the chance.
“I’m coming out.” I say. I raise my hands so they can see them. I stand slowly and walk towards Carlo. Patrick is watching every action.
“I’m sorry, dude. He came out of nowhere,” Carlo says remorsefully.
