Vicious Minds: Part 1: Children of Vice #4

by McAvoy, J. J. ;

  “This is not a game!” I hollered. “What the fuck has gotten into you?”

  “Me?” she questioned, pointing to herself.

  “Who else would I be fucking talking to—”

  “Curse at me again, motherfucker, and I’ll shove my heels down your throat!” She had the nerve to snap at me. Me, who had to fucking watch my grandmother suffer in agony because of a bomb she planted. Me!

  “You have lost your goddamn mind!” I wanted to snap her neck. “My grandmother is in surgery because of you!”

  “Your point?”

  I did grab her throat this time and I slammed her down on the slab right beside the body. “No one hurts my family—”

  “Except you?” She shoved her fingers into my eyes and kicked me in the stomach. I only felt the pain briefly before she twisted my wrist to the side forcing me to release my grip on her throat. She kicked me hard into the chair before pulling out a gun.

  “What in the hell…ah…” I grunted as she fired into my neck. Reaching up I pulled out a needle. If I wasn’t serious about killing her before I was fucking serious now. “You shot me.”

  “Technically yes, I did, but it’s a calming agent, not a goddamn bullet.” She dusted off her jacket. My rage was now just a dull annoyance. She knelt down in front of me and looked me over. “It’s kicking in, right?”

  I pinching the bridge of my nose. Calmly, I told her, “My body might be calm but I still want to kill you.”

  “Give it a second; that will fade too.” She stood up straight. “I can’t talk to you when you’re raging.”

  “How about not sending me into a rage to begin with?” I suggested

  “Remember a year ago when I called you to tell you about Grams? You liked that old hag, but you trusted me enough to not question. Can you go back to that Ethan?”

  “As soon as you go back to the Calliope who calls and tells me what fuck she’s up to before she does it.”

  “I tried,” she said, and I finally looked at her. “I called. You didn’t answer. I was even in your home yesterday, but you didn’t notice. You were far too captivated with your little jailbird. What a pretty voice she has. Am I supposed to beg for your attention? I’m not a child, Ethan. Just because you’re distracted with work doesn’t mean I’m going to wait around for you to fucking finish.”

  Rising from the chair I stared her down. “When it comes to the life of my family, you do fucking wait.”

  SLAP.

  I exhaled through my nose clenching my hand into a fist to stop from slapping her back.

  “Giovanna and I are your family. Or have you forgotten?”

  I held her stare, not able to speak. That’s how pissed I was; I couldn’t put the words together any more.

  She crossed her arms and glared back at me. “Do you think my love for you extends to the rest of your family? I hope not, because that would be a miscalculation on your part. I don’t know them. They don’t know me. You need them, and because I need you, I help you protect them. However, if it ever came down to you or our daughter, I’d nuke the state. Your grandmother got hurt. She’s not dead…”

  “She could have die—”

  “Il Triste Mietitore has spared her for now, may she stay in peace.” She made the sign of the cross like the damn Pope over me, something she did when she would not accept any other way but hers. “By the way, am I not just slaying this suit? I almost panicked because I thought I got blood on it. Valentino is still a bit shaken from the last time I saw him, so I doubt he’d be able to make a new one so soon. Luckily such a catastrophe was avoided.”

  I felt my eyebrow twitch as I stared at her. I sometimes forgot…the sweetness in her voice, the kindness in her eyes, the innocence of her face was all lie. She made sure everyone around her forgot how dangerous she was so that when she did strike, it was twice as vicious. My mother was cold. She kept people at arm’s length, just far enough so she could tear you part without dirtying her shoes. Calliope was the opposite. She’d pull you close, hug you, kiss both of your cheeks, and then slit your throat.

  Taking a deep breath, I spoke again. “What could possibly be the reason that you decided to drop a church on our heads?”

  “The scapegoats I’ve laid out…they were planning a massacre. Not just them, there are a few others who are ready to usurp the Callahan family. It was going to be like The Godfather in there.”

  “A simple note, a fucking smoke signal if you couldn’t find paper, and I would have—”

  “The whole entire point of this, of Ivy, of Klarissa, is so that we could use one stone to kill all the damn birds. You don’t stop these traitors, then more will just keep trying!”

  “I lost today, Calliope! No one knows it was you! It just fucking looks like I’m the son of bitch who can’t even protect his fucking grandmother! You made me into a greater fool than I already have been! I have bimbos fighting over me, my brother and sister are going off the rails, I do not need this shit from you.”

  “You ungrateful little…I made you into a hero today!” she screamed back at me. She lifted her hands, gritting her teeth like she was going to shred my face with her claws.

  “How is this heroic?”

  “Everyone saw you carry your pretty fiancée out then rush back to get your grandmother! What do you think will happen when you go out and walk around? The reason why you have so many motherfuckers betraying you is because they have forgotten why they fucking need you! They forgot that power in the hands of anyone else could be worse! I reminded them! The Finnegan brothers will look like monsters.”

  “The biggest monster wins—”

  “No. The most loved monster wins,” she went on, having the audacity to be annoyed at me. “Everyone needs to remember that it might be the modern era but people are still and will always be savages! They need to fear you but still need to like you. They need to feel like you and your damn family haven’t forgot about them. The church dropped on your family just like it did theirs. You’re all on the same side now. Let them see that.”

  There was no reasoning with her. None at all.

  “Nice cover,” I whispered to her and she held her expressionless face. “I’m sure most of it is true, which is why it sounds so logical. But deep down, I’m also sure you did this out of anger. I ignored you yesterday—”

  “Oh please, I am not that petty.”

  “You are exactly that petty.” I knew her better than anyone else. “You saw everyone gather around Ivy, applaud her, congratulate her, and call her Mrs. Callahan. A woman who you said looked like third runner up at the local Miss Illinois Sweet Corn Festival captured everyone’s attention and lust…even mine. She didn’t seem just like Klarissa, and that pissed you off. In your anger you blew us up, and because you are smart you know what to say to make it seem otherwise. If you were talking to any other man, I’m sure your first excuse would have been enough, but I’m not like them. I am not going to stand here and pretend as though you did not cross a line.”

  She took a step forward, her grey eyes glaring directly into mine. “Kill me then.”

  “Do not push me right now, Calliope—”

  “Do not bullshit me right now, Ethan. You can’t, and you won’t, because you love me and there are no lines. And even if you are right, my first excuse is still more than good enough. But hey, his majesty has spoken.” She gave me a sarcastic bow, even waving her hand like a damn queen before lifting her middle finger to my face. “So I’ll step back over your imaginary bullshit line and give myself a well-deserved vacation from you. I’m tired of saving your fucking ass, anyway.”

  She rolled her eyes and started to walk away from me and for some reason that pissed me off more than anything else she had said. She was taking a vacation? Saving my fucking ass?

  She wants to get under my skin? Fine. I could do the same.

  “I’ll be marrying Ivy today.” She froze before the double doors. I expected her to spin back and kick me in the face.

  “Evviva g
li sposi, (Long live the bride and groom).” was her only response as she left instead.

  How could one woman be so good at pissing me off? Ivy and Klarissa annoyed me, but Calliope set my blood boiling. What the fuck?

  How the hell could she nearly kill me and my sister, burn my grandmother alive, and have me feeling like the goddamn asshole? I didn’t do a fucking thing wrong!

  I now understood that old Italian proverb: Never underestimate the power of a woman with Italian blood.

  Chapter 16

  “Lies require commitment.”

  ~Veronica Roth

  Ethan - AGE 28

  Chicago, Illinois

  Sunday, August 20th

  “Would you kill me too?” Ivy whispered.

  “Not the wisest question right now.” She didn’t realize just how unwise, considering I’d all but had it with women. Irish, Italian, at this point I didn’t fucking care. They were all driving me insane. Why did people actually seek out mistresses? One woman was frustrating enough, let alone another I cared nothing at all for.

  Sighing, I tried to pay attention to her. I expected her to flip out again, but instead she just lay there, staring at me with those big blue doe eyes of hers, all weak and pitiful. It made me wonder what Calliope would say or do if she saw her.

  “If you didn’t need me for whatever plan you’re coming up with, you would have married Klarissa. You want too badly to win, so you’d rather stick to your plan and have her killed…so what about me? What happens when I’m not useful to your plan? What happens if you need some other woman for your gameplan? Will I end up dying?” I nearly fell off my chair.

  She was right. One hundred percent right. Could she feel it? The axe hanging over neck ready to take her head next? Calliope liked knives; that very well could be how she killed her.

  “I heard your uncle Neal…he killed his wife so—”

  I cut her off explaining the story of my uncle Neal and his former wife. But even still, she looked at me like she didn’t believe me. She was scared. Her fear, her lack of resolve and confidence disgusted me. Even worse, she made it harder for me to ignore Calliope. I couldn’t help but compare them and in every way, she was lacking. Ivy was smarter than we had given her credit for, which was why she could feel the truth but still wanted to hope for something different. I’d never have this conversation with Calliope. She’d never doubt herself beside me. In Calliope’s mind us being together was as much as divinely ordained. Even if I woke up tomorrow and said I didn’t want her, she’d try to beat me half to death and then chain me up until I saw it her way. There was no room for doubt or stupid conversations like this one. Calliope was very territorial, but so was I, and I’d most likely do everything she did if the roles were reversed. Even with that, there was no room for doubt or stupid conversations like this one.

  “Fine, but—”

  “No buts.” Fucking Christ, do I have to get on my knees and praise her? Did she not know the fucking day I just had? I did not have time or energy to do this shit. Sighing, I gave her what she wanted. “I married you. I chose you. I knew that meant till the day I die. I told Klarissa the first day she appeared in front of me that I was never going to marry her. That I would never love her. She dared to hope that somehow I’d see the light and fall. However, I am a man of my word. Always have been.”

  I’d never been a man of my word. I was the son of two fucking mafia families; how the fuck could I be a man of my word? I was a man of my threats, but never my word.

  “A gangster with sophistication and morals,” she repeated, and I nearly rolled my eyes. She had the ability to ruin the little humor I put into our conversation.

  “If I knew you would keep repeating that, I would have tried to make it catchier.” I yawned, hoping she would get the message and shut the fuck up so we could sleep.

  But context clues did not seem to be her strong suit.

  She snickered. “What is your word to me?”

  She wasn’t serious. How much reassurance did she bloody need? Remember what this is for, Ethan. The sooner you get through this the sooner…the sooner I fix my relationship.

  Rising from the chair, I walked over to her side of the bed. She stared up at me and I reached down and lifted her up, lying down on my back with her resting on top of my chest. Once again It felt like I was pimping myself out, but I’d come too far now to back down over something like this.

  Something romantic…Something romantic? What the fuck was romantic to her? I glanced down and saw the ring.

  “When I put that ring on your finger, I believe my exact words were, ‘I bind my life to yours, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. It is a symbol of my eternal love, my everlasting friendship, and the promise of all my tomorrows. An outward reminder of our inner unity. I forsake all others, I chose you, until death do us part’.” Repeating the vows was the best I could do right now.

  She held her hand up for us both to look at. “It doesn’t count if there is a lie in it.”

  “What lie?” Go to sleep, goddamnit. What I’d do for one of Calliope’s poisons right now.

  “When you say my eternal love and my everlasting friendship…when did you fall in love with me? And when did we become friends?”

  Of all the women in the world. Sighing, I closed my eyes, over this whole shit now.

  “Ivy, no one is taking your spot at my side.” Because you never had a place. “I am not abandoning you.” Because I never attained you…you’re a prison loan. “So for the love of God, shut up and let me sleep.”

  I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep, knowing that was the only way to get her to shut up for now. I was going to have to figure out a way to make her feel like she was in control without actually giving her control. Her instincts were telling her not to trust me. Luckily she didn’t listen to them, but I didn’t want to repeat these conversations again.

  She’s staring. I could feel her gaze on me.

  Sex? Maybe? What else made a female feel more powerful than to have a lover bow down to her. Dear Jesus Mary fucking Christ…was I really going to do this?

  I understand why Calliope felt so impatient. We were so close to the end; we just had to get over this and she, along with my daughter, could finally come home.

  I thought of her and Gigi’s faces, imagining both of them here. The fights Calliope and I would have and the plans we’d make. The more I thought that about the more I realized I was no longer upset about the church. I already forgave her. No, it was beyond that…it now felt irrelevant if she wasn’t here.

  I’ve become my father. Just like he did with my mother, I let go of her sins because I’d rather have her than dwell on it.

  I’m not apologizing to her, I told myself. At least not verbally…but I could use the current events she set up.

  When I “woke up” I’d train Ivy and then we’d go to Boston. Blaming the bomb on them was a good enough reason to pay the Finnegan brothers a visit. That and our “marriage.”

  One month…I just needed a month, and this was over.

  Ethan - AGE 28

  Boston, Massachusetts

  Wednesday, August 23rd

  “Oh my God, what is this?” Ivy moaned, taking a bite of the bagel in front of her, reaching over to get more of the jelly while I sent another text message to Calliope. She still wasn’t responding.

  It’s been three fucking days!

  No matter many times I called, no matter how many texts I sent, she would not reply.

  “Amish gold, apparently,” I answered Ivy, only partially listening to her. She was like a pet dog. As long as she had food and I gave her a pat on the head, she was fine.

  If only all women could be so easy, I thought, sending Calliope another message…still no reply. Either something happened to her, which I doubted, or she was keeping true to her word and was on vacation from me.

  Ivy wasn’t speaking as cheerfully as before.

  “Give me some,” I demanded and she happily fed me a
bite of the toast. “Good, but still not worth the price.”

  “Shh,” she gasped, putting her hands over the jelly. “It will hear you.”

  I glanced up at her and it was as if she were wagging her tail begging for me to pet her and give her attention. This was why I didn’t like puppies. So damn needy. Dropping my phone on the bedside table, I gave her that attention.

  Ethan - AGE 28

  Boston, Massachusetts

  Wednesday, August 30th

  “Calliope, it’s been ten days. At the very least let me know you’re alive and that Gigi is all right too.”

  I was about to put the phone in my pocket, but I got an instant reply this time, and as if I were being starved, I checked it immediately, only to get two words back.

  “We’re alive.”

  Just like that, I was pissed off again. I was almost sure I preferred her not answering. At least then I could lie to myself and say she was being stubborn and wasn’t reading my messages. But now I was sure she was getting every last one, so clearly, she was still fucking punishing me.

  “This is a bit immature, Calliope.”

  No reply.

  Fucking bitc—calm down, Ethan. Focus. Putting my phone away, I tuned back into the conversation happening around Carofiglio’s barber shop again. I was able to interject myself easily, it wasn’t like they were taking about anything that needed too much thought anyway. I felt like I was on autopilot, my thoughts still on Calliope.

  “Give me a name.”

  I looked up from the hair I was cutting. Ivy sat in the chair seriously, waiting. Give me a name? You earn a bloody name! What fuck have you done to earn anything? Other than sleeping, eating, and waiting for me to touch her, she did nothing. But that didn’t seem to matter to her; she waited anyway, along with the whole damn shop.

  What fucking disgrace.

  “Belladonna,” I said to her.

  “Ivy the Belladonna Callahan,” she whispered to herself and then smiled, nodding happily.