Her father sent her away to a fancy high school with Clarissa Mancuso, the Chicago Mob Boss’s daughter. She wasn’t at that school for too long. I wonder what's going on. Antonio never said anything to me about her being back. I don't ask questions, but when he talks about her I listen. I want to know everything about her, even when I shouldn't.
I consider going up and talking to her, but I know I’d feel like an idiot. Our time in South Bend and Chicago seems like a lifetime ago. It was a tough time for her and I was trying to keep her safe. We aren’t as close anymore. And besides, what would I say? “What are you doing here?” She looks lost in her book anyway.
Ronnie breaks me from my thoughts.
“Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
I shove him with my hand.
“You look like a crazy lovesick puppy or something,” he chastises me foolishly.
Some asshole sits down next to her. His books thunk on the table. She turns her head. He smiles at her, and she fucking smiles back. Fuck!
I can't hold back anymore. I want to rip this chooch’s head off and drag her away to sit by me. Or better yet, back to my apartment.
I can’t stand seeing her like this and not being close to her. I go to get up and say something. I get out of my seat slowly, talking myself down from wanting to shred the skin off the loser next to her. The walk from my seat to hers deadens my legs and movements. The shock of seeing her is overwhelming. I manage to get myself to her seat, and I hover over her, glancing down. Shit! That face, that tiny body. Even with her black hair and makeup, she is breathtaking to me.
Her little friend notices me first, and I watch him shrink back at the sight of me. Slowly, I see her turn towards me and tilt her head up.
She sees me.
I can tell by her expression that she is just as shocked to see me as I am to see her.
“Good morning! I’m Professor Elden. If you’re not supposed to be in English Comp, then you’re in the wrong place.”
I look behind me and lock eyes with the teacher.
“Can I help you? Mr…?” She pauses, expecting me to finish the sentence for her.
“Rossi. Vito Rossi.”
“Please have a seat, Mr. Rossi.”
I behave myself and go back to sit by Ronnie. I am so confused. Why is Erin here? Why didn’t Tonio tell me she was coming back? I can't help but wonder why. I talk to him every day, and I see him and Megan all the time. I'm really not sure what's going on.
Why? Why fuckin’ everything?
Erin
After all I’ve heard and seen, I thought that nothing could play with my disbelief. I was wrong. Seeing Vito hovering over me left me speechless. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen or talked to him. He hasn’t called or texted since I left for school from Chicago. I have a new phone, but Vito must know that Antonio has the number. They’re best friends.
The teacher’s voice drones at a pitch that I can’t concentrate on. I’m afraid to even move my head. Part of me feels embarrassed by all that Vito knows about me. I can’t put my finger on why. Antonio knows all about me, and Troy does too. They don’t bother me. I run my fingers through my hair nervously. I see the strands out of the corner of my eye and the color still makes me do a double-take – black, not red.
The guy next to me, Kirk, who I met yesterday in physical science class, he’s in the H.S.+ program too. He notices that something’s wrong with me. He leans over.
“You okay?” he whispers. I nod.
“Is that guy bothering you?” he asks, adding a little toughness to his voice. I almost want to laugh. Vito would pulverize this guy.
I shake my head no.
I sit and stare at the teacher and open my book on cue and write in my notebook at the correct times. But I’m in awe of seeing Vito and Ronnie. Eyes bore into the back of my head. I know they’re Vito’s. He’s so intense. That will never change about him.
I don’t hear the teacher dismiss the class; I only notice the commotion around me. Books closing, backpacks zipping.
“You ready?” Kirk asks, standing up.
I shut my book and close my notebook. I shove them into my black messenger bag with white skull heads on it. It’s a little more over the top than what I normally carry, but I like it. It’s a dangerous bag. It’s part of my new image.
I sense someone lurking behind me. I twist to see that it’s Vito and Ronnie.
“Hey!” Ronnie says. “How you doing, Kid?”
“Good,” I say meekly, not really sure why my voice sounds smaller than usual. “How are you?” I ask politely.
“Can’t complain,” Ronnie comments. “Surprised to see you.” Vito doesn’t say anything. He looms as usual, but is quiet. His eyes shoot ominously to Kirk a few times. “We’re going to grab some lunch, you wanna come?” Ronnie asks.
The offer startles me, causing me to fall all over my words. “Oh. Uh, no, I can’t. We have study group,” I tell them, swishing my finger between Kirk and me. “Thanks though. Well, we’ve got to run.” I say and scurry away with Kirk in tow, feeling very awkward.
“Who are those guys?” Kirk asks. “They’re like people you see on America’s Most Wanted.”
“No…” I pause. “They’re really nice guys. A little intimidating, but nice.”
“Yeah, just a little,” Kirk shoots back sarcastically.
I giggle.
*****
Our study group consists of the ten specially selected high school students from across the state. We meet in the library. We got together before classes even started to plan out a strategy to meet the objectives of the program, to work out a schedule, and to compare class syllabi. Most of us are very enthusiastic, knowing that our shaved down time in college will let us move on to graduate school or the field of our choice more quickly. All except Kevin: I think his parents made him apply for the program. He’s really surly and could care less about even showing up for class.
Every library I have ever been to smells the same. The books carry that old paper aroma. Our table is in the corner by a huge picture window. It’s round and large enough to seat about fifteen people. It’s made of a dark wood that’s been seasoned with carvings of initials and profanity. I plop down my stuff and take out all of my books for each class. We get to work, deciding to start with science and end with composition. That way we can do the final drafts of our papers at home.
“The science is so easy. I thought this was supposed to be college,” Kirk comments.
“It’s not too bad. I agree,” I add, rummaging around in my goth messenger bag for a pencil. I can feel his eyes on me, trying to figure me out after the incident with Vito and Ronnie earlier. I find my pencil and sit up to start my work.
“So, are you going to tell me about your friends?” Kirk air quotes friends.
“What’s to tell?” I stare at him evenly, challengingly. I am NOT going to spill my guts to Kirk about people breaking into my house, my father’s real occupation, and being a vegetable in Chicago. No. I. Won’t. Like Antonio said, “People should only know what they need to know.”
“Come on…” he urges.
“The big guy, Vito? His best friend is marrying my sister.”
I go back to organizing my bag in an attempt to end the conversation.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it,” I repeat, uninterested.
“There has to be more to it than that.”
“Why?” I ask, pissed. One of the note books in my bag gave me a paper cut.
“I’m a good judge of people, and I sense two things.” Kirk says matter-of-factly. “One, Vito is not some mild mannered college boy, and two, he’s in love with you.”
“Kirk, come on,” I sigh. “Listen. We have a history, but not the kind you’re thinking, okay? That’s all I can tell you. Now, get your stuff out,” I order.
Kirk drops it, but I don’t think he’s done questioning me.
Chapter 7
Vito
Ronnie
and I follow the same path as Erin and her fuckin’ weasel-ass-boy-toy until they veer off towards the library. Is she seeing that kid? She didn’t even introduce him.
“We’re joining a study group,” I murmur to Ronnie.
“What? Are you crazy? I made it eighteen years without ever being in a study group.”
“Shut the fuck up, we’re joining.” I say to him, trying to control the swirling fog of confusion in my head.
*****
“Dude, you’re early. We don’t need to leave for another half an hour,” Tonio says. I don’t even remember getting out of my car, climbing the steps to his house, and walking in.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I toss at him.
“Huh? Tell you what?”
“Why didn’t you fuckin’ tell me she was coming back?” I spit.
“Who the fuck are you talking about?” Antonio spits back, aggravated.
“The kid.”
“What kid?”
“You know what kid, Megan’s sister!” I say, like Antonio is a fucking dummy.
“Oh, that. Yeah. She decided to do some fancy new program that the school is running. High school kids in college or some shit like that.”
I turn away from him. I’m angry. It was such a shock to see her.
“What didn’t you tell me?” I ask softly, trying to keep my cool.
“I don’t know. Shit happens. I didn’t think to tell you. I’ve got a lot going on with Pop, Megan, and just... shit. What’s the problem?”
“Nothin’.”
“Well. It doesn’t sound like nothin’!” Antonio raises his voice and then pauses, thinking. “I’ve asked you this before, and you told me no. I’m gonna ask you again and you better be fuckin’ honest with me. Do you have a thing for Erin?!”
I turn to him. I can’t speak, but my face must say it all because he punches me in the jaw.
Thwack!
The sting reverberates in my head, and I rub the side of my face.
“She is fuckin’ fifteen! You’re eighteen! What the fuck is wrong with you?” Antonio shouts through clenched teeth.
Feet quickly pad down the stairs.
“Tonio! What is goin’ on?” It’s Antonio’s mother, Diane. “It sounded like you hit something. It better not have been my wall!”
She enters the room and sees us facing off. I have no intention of retaliating. I deserve whatever he chucks at me.
“Did you just hit Vito?!” she yells. She looks back and forth between us, sizing up the situation. Antonio and I are staring each other down. “What is the matter with you!?” She waits, but we don’t move or speak. Diane folds her arms. “One of you better start talking. Now!”
“Vito lied to me. And he’s a sick bastard,” Antonio tells her, never taking his eyes off me.
Whoa, harsh - but true.
“Tonio explain that, right now!”
“He told me he didn’t like Erin.”
Diane looks at me. “Vito, she’s a nice little girl. What’s the problem with her?”
“No, Ma. You don’t get it, the key word is little. He’s in love with her or some crazy-ass shit like that. She’s only fifteen!”
Realization dawns on Diane, but she is clearly not disgusted like Tonio. She thinks for a minute. The hostility coming from Antonio is palpable. She’s definitely trying to find a way to diffuse the situation.
“Your father is five years older than me,” she says, calmly. “Girls are more mature than boys. Megan’s very mature. I’m sure that Erin is very mature for her age.”
“She’s not,” Tonio says.
I leap to her defense. “She is,” I grind out.
“No! She’s not! Look how she’s handled things! She’s immature and...” I know what he is going to say. I’m fuming.
“Don’t stop!” I yell. “And what?!”
Tonio still doesn’t finish his sentence.
“You were going to say weak, weren’t you!” I bark.
“Enough!” Diane yells and the palms of her hands fly out between us. “Tonio, you feel particularly protective because she is Megan’s sister. Now. If Vito were twenty-three, and Erin twenty, you would feel differently.”
“No. I wouldn’t. She can’t handle this life,” he says, deadly serious.
“That’s not your choice to make.” Diane is trying to reason with Tonio, but he’s right, and he’s not telling me things I didn’t already know. She’s too young and this is not the life for her, but those things don’t change how I feel.
“Vito, have you spoken to Erin? Have you told her how you feel?”
“Ma, this isn’t fuckin’ Dr. Phil. She’s too young!” Tonio shouts.
“Watch your mouth,” Diane says menacingly. “Tonio, the bottom line is that it is between Vito and Erin. And no wonder he lied to you! Look at how you’re acting! The O’Neill’s are the ones to handle this, not you,” she says, waving her finger in his face and laying down the law. We drop it; the whole messed up subject.
I’m relieved that Tonio finally knows, but I still feel like shit.
*****
After things die down, Diane clocks us both on the back of the head with her open palm and sends us out the door. Antonio’s mother is one tough chick. She grew up in the mob life like Alessandra, our friend. Most women that have married into the mob or grew up in it have a certain air about them. It’s a mixture of softness and kindness combined with a don’t fuck with me demeanor.
It makes sense now. Megan’s father is the cleaner, a position in the mob that is meant to be kept secret because it keeps the faction members in line, and Mrs. O’Neill has that Mob wife exterior in an Irish manner. I just never noticed.
We pop into Tonio’s red Camaro and sail down the parkway to the other side of town. Tonio is enforcing for his Pop and needs to collect. He wants me to start coming with him. In the future, I’ll be Tonio’s head-enforcer, like Donny, the knife, is Tonio’s Pop’s. I turned eighteen so I am required to take on more shit, which is fine by me. Tonio and I have been taking care of business since well before adulthood, anyway. There are unwritten guidelines and rules in the Mafia, and nobody questions them - we just follow them. Besides, you can’t help it - shit happens. Other factions or Mob families start shit, and then we have to deal with. We need to protect ourselves. It’s kill or be killed.
We take a sharp left onto Dexter Street. Under the eaves of an old department store that has been closed for at least ten years, four guys stand on the sidewalk, talking leisurely. All of them are in jeans and some type of hoodie stitched with the latest popular emblem. The guy with his hood tucked neatly over his head takes off as soon as he sees Tonio’s car.
“We got a runner!” Tonio shouts, pressing down on the gas pedal. The guy’s feet slam against the pavement as he sprints away. The motor of the car roars against the wind as we pick up speed.
The runner dashes between buildings and we screech to a halt. I’m out of the car before it completely stops. My adrenaline kicks up, fueling me. I run after him. He goes right. I’m almost on him. He knocks a metal trash can into my path. I hurtle it easily. He takes a quick left. I reach out to tag him. He evades me for a second and attempts to scramble through a cellar window. I get his feet and drag his ass out, scraping him across the ground. Tonio comes flying around the corner and without ceremony kicks the guy in the kidney. The dude lies there, crumpled on the cement.
“I. Hate. Fucking. Runners.” he spits at the guy in a tone reserved only for deadbeats. I drag the guy to a standing position by the scruff of his sweatshirt.
“I don’t have it!” he wails. His fear pervades the air. It lands on my tongue, pure and raw.
“I guessed as much, Dennis,” Tonio says, circling him. This guy is really just a kid like us. He can’t be more than twenty. I have no clue what he has gotten himself into, but I don’t really need to know at this point.
Quick and abruptly, Tonio grabs Dennis’s pinky and snaps it back, breaking it.
“Owwww! H
oly Shit!!!” Dennis screams.
“Are you listening?” Tonio questions, snidely. Small tears leak out the sides of the guy’s eyes.
He nods in understanding. His eyes are wide with terror. Why borrow if you can’t pay it? The question always pops in my head when we’re doing this shit.
“Three thousand,” Antonio waves three fingers in front of Dennis. “Count my fingers. 1... 2... 3... by next week.” Tonio grabs the guy’s face with one hand and squeezes it hard. He closes the gap between them. “Three thousand by next week or I’ll break your leg. Do you understand? Follow the rules Dennis. No running.” Tonio slaps his cheek and the smack echoes. Fast like last time, Tonio grabs Dennis’s ring finger on the same hand and snaps it like a twig.
“Fuck!” Dennis shrieks. I let go and the guy falls into a heap, cradling his fingers. Tonio and I walk away, leaving Dennis moaning on the ground.
“I don’t get why they borrow when they can’t pay it back,” Tonio huffs, taking the thought right out of my head. “They fuckin’ know what’s going to happen.”
“He’s young,” I say.
“Yeah, and stupid.”
Tonio is right.
What the hell did this guy need the money for anyway?
Erin
In class the next day, Ronnie and Vito are already there, sitting in the chairs around the one I sat in yesterday. The mischievous grin on Ronnie’s face makes him look like the cat that swallowed the canary.
“Good morning Miss O’Neill, pleasure to see you again. We’ve saved a seat for you right here,” he says in a mocking proper tone.
Vito kicks his chair. “Don’t be an ass.”
I laugh and sit down.
“Did you complete your assignment last evening?” Ronnie asks, keeping up the charade.
“Of course,” I say, leaning in close. “Did you?”
“I plan on being a stellar student,” Ronnie says. “Why do you think I’m sitting right next to you?”
“Umm. Ronnie. It’s kind of hard to cheat in a Composition class. It’s writing assignments, not multiple choice.”
Mobster's Angel (Mobster Series) Page 6
