Omerta

by Sienna Mynx

  “Games over,” he announced.

  “No. Wait. One more, okay? I’m... uh, bored.”

  Carlo had broken his number one rule—never play with your prey. In his profession when someone went from being a friend to foe he turned off all emotional connections. It was why he could be called upon to deal with boys he raised to be killers and thieves like himself, before he dispatched them as needed. It was why he wore the name badge Il Macellaio—Butcher with pride.

  Marietta was different. A few years ago, when he first met her she was this exotic firecracker of a woman he couldn’t take his eyes off of. With eyes as dark as onyx, framed by long slender lashes, and a tongue that lashed him with more venom than he’d ever taken from a woman or a man. She snared him each time she glanced his way. Years later he still found her beautiful but in a different way. She was loyal to her man, grounded, defiant and strong. A warrior—like his Shae. Those qualities were more appealing than her thick thighs, fat ass, and pretty tits.

  Her constant weeping and persistent pleas for her life could be heard in his dreams. It drove him mad with regret. So much so he’d taken to a whorehouse and opium to silence her and in the process, he had unleashed darker demons he couldn’t face.

  He didn’t trust himself with her.

  He didn’t trust himself at all.

  The doctors warned she would have the baby early and lose the child or her life if she wasn’t freed from stress. First, he stopped threatening and baiting her into arguments. He’d let her verbally abuse him from her bed where he kept her handcuffed. Then he freed her and allowed her doors to be unlocked during the day when the staff was present, so she could leave her room and stroll the empty hospital halls if she wanted. Carlo would sit and listen as she confessed every crime she ever committed since she was three years old. She’d apologize and beg him for forgiveness for hurting, almost killing him. She also confessed to sabotaging his relationship with Shae whenever she could out of pure jealousy. That confession did catch him by surprise. She then confessed to feeling the attraction between them. And reminded him how close they once came to crossing the line. Her magic was working on him, breaking down his defenses. They advanced to social visits, mostly card games where she taught him American slang and black culture. From music to movies she loved in the seventies, Carlo heard it all.

  But the time dragged on and his demons were winning. Giovanni had made it clear that Lorenzo’s child must be born alive and healthy. And he too felt that vow must be kept. So Abedi and her opium was often put aside for his nightly visits to Marietta’s room.

  Lately what bothered him the most was her changing beauty. She was blooming before his eyes. He’d not had much contact with pregnant women. Only in passing, never this close and personal. He noticed everything about her. To control her hair that grew dark and curly from her scalp she wrapped it up with a native-patterned scarf that made her curly locs crown into a ponytail from the top of her head. And her face once oval with delicate features was round and swollen and she now had a double chin. It was cute on her. Sexy. And he knew it was unjust that his best friend didn't have much of an opportunity to see her this way. Their separation made him think of Shae more often. If Shae were pregnant would she be this way? If Shae were pregnant would her skin, feel as soft as this? When Marietta spoke his sole focus would be the movement of her plump lips he’d wonder: If Shae were pregnant would her lips be as full? Swollen and natural, the way God intended. Carlo liked to think Shae’s beauty would outshine anything he’d ever seen in a woman. But Shae was gone. And he was in Africa now, surrounded by brown and dark-skinned women everywhere he turned.

  “Carlo? Earth to Carlo? Hello?” Marietta snapped her fingers in front of him. He blinked.

  “Where did you go?”

  “Nowhere,” he said.

  “I can teach you spades.”

  “Spades?”

  “A card game. A new one. To make it fun we need two more people... ask the men to come in,” she said and started to shuffle the deck.

  He shook his head no. He got up from the chair and started toward the door. Marietta got to her feet. Such abrupt movements weren’t easy or good for her. Carlo paused with concern.

  “Don’t go. It’s almost dinner time. We can eat together. Carlo? Wait. Is there more news from Gio? Mira? Anything about Lorenzo you can tell me today?”

  He did not wait. There was never news to share, and she often asked. The more time he spent with her the harder it became to not want to give her hope. So, he left her in the room sobbing.

  “Scusi, Dhakiya,” Carlo said. A short woman with ebony skin in a half-niqab turned around. Her dark eyes piercing.

  “I need to speak to Dr. Ali. Is he still here?”

  She nodded and led the way.

  It was too late. He was out of the door before she could reach him. And the moment she did make it to the door she heard the locks re-engage. Marietta pounded her fists on the door and screamed Carlo’s name. She wanted to pound the door until it went tumbling down. The night time was always the same. She was locked inside her room and left alone.

  There was no point. Over the past few weeks she accepted many hard truths. Lorenzo would not find her. She had to save the baby and herself. There was an even more hurtful truth. Carlo, her jailer and friend, would become her executioner the moment the baby was born. She could see the guilt in his red-rimmed eyes. Whenever they relaxed around each other, talked and laughed with each other, he’d tense after a while and then leave. She was on borrowed time.

  Marietta stopped the tears and pleas. She walked back over to the bed with her hand to her back and the other to her belly. She’d doubled in size the past few weeks. She couldn’t believe how big she was now. She didn’t have any windows in her room or any mirrors. Just a rudimentary toilet and sink. A real prison. The only entertainment she was offered was a television that blared programming in Bantu and Swahili. She had a few books to read. But by the look of her visitors and their rotation she knew she was in the hospital. It wasn’t modern, but it was efficient. Three times a day a doctor visited to take care of her. Carlo’s visits didn’t start until a week ago. She had thought he’d left. He had not. Now he came every day. And she looked forward to it.

  “Carlo, you wanted to speak?” Dr. Ali asked.

  “I need answers.”

  “Please. Have a seat.”

  “How much longer before the baby comes?” Carlo demanded.

  “We discussed this. She’s 31 week’s any time before 37 weeks is premature. We are monitoring her... and... she is doing so much better considering her circumstance. She may get closer to term.”

  “That’s almost two months! I can’t wait two months! I told my boss the kid would be here in four weeks the latest.”

  “Sorry?”

  “How soon can we take the baby?” Carlo asked.

  “Take?”

  “You know, cut her and take the kid out of her belly. They do that. I know they do.”

  “That’s not needed here.”

  Carlo glared at the doctor. “Can it be done?”

  “Maybe? But she’ll need to get closer to full term. Another four weeks, and maybe we can. But if you can wait four weeks you should wait three more. The longer time the baby is in her the better the chances for the child and the mother.”

  “I know the risk to the kid, what is the risk to Marietta?”

  “She’s preeclampsia. For the baby we are talking brain damage. For the mother, kidney, liver, problems. Even blood clotting. She could die.”

  Carlo closed his eyes and summoned patience. Giovanni was in trouble and that did concern him. But even greater was his torment. He had to get the fuck out of Africa. He was slipping bad, he was losing his mind. The baby waiting was making him crazy. Marietta was making him crazy. And now Shae and Adara haunted his dreams whether he was sober or not. He’d fucking masturbated to a dream of both women just the other night. He couldn’t stay in this dark place of regret much longe
r. It would make it impossible for him to complete his job.

  “I know what you have planned. I can only tell you that two months is what it will take. Two months is what she and the child needs. You force me to do anything sooner it could jeopardize the child’s life and hers.”

  “You’re no fucking help!” Carlo stormed out of the doctor’s office. He paced in the hall realizing there wasn’t much he could do. He had the urge to return to Abedi, to let her ease his stress. But the Opium was fucking with him, becoming a stronger habit. He had to stop. He had to regain control. And even more importantly he had to help Marietta through this.

  MARIETTA WASHED HER face in the basin. She dried it with a towel. She’d give anything for a bath. Since she arrived she’s had to bathe, wash her face and brush her teeth in the same basin. It was miserable. There was a knock at the door. She didn’t bother to answer. There was no point. She never had any visitors arrive so late unless it was her doctor, and it was too late for Carlo to return.

  The door opened. Carlo stuck his head inside. Marietta froze. She blinked out of her surprise and smiled for him.

  “You dressed?” he asked.

  She held up her arms to show off the dashiki house dress she often wore.

  “I was thinking you and I could have dinner outside under the moon and stars. You can see the beach from here.”

  “There’s a beach?” she asked. “I never saw a beach?”

  He pushed in a wheel chair. “It’s on the other side of the building. Too long of a walk for you. I bought you this.”

  “Is this a joke?”

  “No.”

  “Is it a trick?”

  “Would I tell you if it were?”

  “I guess not.”

  “If you don’t want to, I can have dinner brought in for you,” he said and turned the wheelchair back to the door.

  “Wait! Yes,” Marietta tried not to sound too excited. She waddled a bit in her haste. She laughed, he smiled. She sat in the chair and he pulled up the footpads for her. And then he wheeled her out of the room and she saw nothing remarkable. They travelled down several halls to an elevator on her floor. During her short walks in and out of her room in the daylight she’d never ventured so far. Not even for her exams. Next to the elevator were two black men with guns. Marietta’s heart leapt at the thought they may provide help for her. It was the first time she saw armed men. There was nothing, but medical staff kept around her.

  “They work for me,” Carlo said as if reading her mind.

  “For you or for Giovanni?”

  The elevator’s door opened. Carlo wheeled her inside and the men came with them.

  “Same thing,” Carlo mumbled.

  They traveled down two floors before the doors opened again. When she arrived in this foreign land weeks ago she was blindfolded and put in restraints. She didn’t remember an elevator. Far as she knew on the windowless floor she resided there weren’t different levels to this place. She was wheeled out of the elevator into a corridor that should have been crowded with visitors. She saw two women in traditional Muslim dress.

  “What is this place?” she asked.

  “A hospital,” Carlo answered.

  “I know, but where are the other patients?” she asked.

  “You’re the only patient. It’s been bought by the Battaglias. Under renovation for the village.”

  “Oh,” she said. “When will the renovations be done?”

  “When you leave.”

  Carlo wheeled her through the first doors and then the next.

  “Who are these men? They’re African. They aren’t Giovanni’s regular men?”

  “These men are from the Mafarisso. They are outlawed in Kenya. They've recently taken an interest in Giovanni’s business dealings on this coast.”

  “Giovanni deals guns in Africa?”

  “He deals guns where people need guns. Everywhere,” Carlo said.

  “Isn’t that a secret?”

  “Who will you tell?”

  A cold shiver tickled up her spine and a renewed fear soured her gut. They arrived to a room that had more windows than walls. She wasn’t sure what purpose it served but the view of the beach was spectacular. That was shocking to her. She never pictured paradise in Africa. Possibly because she only knew of the continent from American textbooks and impoverished depictions on television. Under the moonlight she saw the whitest sands reach sparkling clear blue waters. So many stars her heart lodged in her throat.

  “Where are we?”

  “You know where we are,” he said and wheeled her to a dirty three leg table.

  “I mean where in Africa? This... it’s so beautiful.”

  Carlo paused from locking down her wheelchair and looked out at the stars. He behaved as if seeing it for the first time.

  “We are near Tanzania,” he said.

  “I can’t believe it. I never wanted to come to Africa before now. Isn’t that strange?”

  “Why is it strange?” he asked. He left her to drag over a chair. There were three bowls on the table and a decanter of water. Dinner was served.

  “Because I’m black. Or, as they say it back home ‘I’m African American’.”

  “You’re half black,” Carlo dismissed her statement.

  “No. I’m black. In America it mattered. It sure as hell mattered to that bastard who raised me. I’m black. And all I wanted to do was run to Italy to find my father. I never even once stopped to think of my mother, of where she originated... of this place.”

  Carlo began to eat. Nothing she said resonated with him that evening and that too felt strange. Why arrange a private dinner if he was in a grumpy mood?

  “What if you were seeing Sicily for the first time?”

  Carlo stopped chewing. He lifted his gaze from his plate and looked at her. He then looked out to the picturesque view of the beach.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “I guess I’d be impressed.”

  “See! It’s Africa! I’m in Africa. My baby is going to be born on the mother continent,” Marietta said with pride. She wanted to walk the beach, to visit the local village and shop in their stores. To talk with people. To see more of the country. None of that would happen.

  “Why are you being nice to me Carlo?”

  “You have to eat. I have to eat,” he replied. He slopped up his food from his plate with his fingers and shoveled it into his mouth. She looked at the food and tried to imitate him.

  “Yea but you’re letting your guard down with me more and more,” she said.

  “Assolutamente no, cazzo,” He gestured with his hand to swat away her comment.

  “You are! You just told me Giovanni’s secret business deals in East Africa.”

  Carlo laughed. He spoke with a mouthful and gravy dripping on his chin. “I told you what you could read in any newspaper.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t think the Mafarisso working for the Battaglias is in the local newspaper back home.”

  Carlo stopped chewing.

  “Relax. My point is I feel safe with you now. I thought you brought me here to kill me. I was scared.”

  “You should be scared,” Carlo said and wiped his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. She said nothing. She had a hundred questions, but she had to be careful how to ask each one. Not for fear of his reaction, but out of fear of his answers. However, this was progress. She had to seize it.

  “Ever hear from Shae?” she asked.

  Carlo glanced up at her.

  “Since she left. Have you heard from her? A letter, a call.”

  Carlo started eating again. “I have a new woman... had a new woman.”

  “You do?”

  Carlo shrugged. “Her name is Adara.”

  “Oh? I didn’t know you moved on.”

  “I did,” he mumbled.

  “I think it’s strange how things ended with you and Shae.”

  “Why? You predicted the ending.”

  “Because she loves you.”

>   “Not true. She never loved me. Shae doesn’t know how to love. That was the point. And neither do I.”

  “I’ve heard from Shae. I’ve spoken to her. A couple of months back. Before all this craziness, right after Giovanni was shot,” Marietta lied.

  Carlo sat back. He stared at her while drinking his beer. Did he know she was lying? She continued, as if she weren’t. “You’re wrong. She does love you. Shae misses you. She said she has regrets. She said she wished she could have done things differently.”

  “Is that what she said?” Carlo asked.

  “Yes. She says Vegas was a mistake but—.”

  Carlo slammed his fist on the table. Marietta jumped.

  “Shae would never call you to talk about me. Shae, doesn’t give a shit. So, don’t fuck with me!”

  “I... I’m sorry Carlo, I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “No. You’re not sorry. This is what you do. You lie. You manipulate. You do whatever the fuck you want no matter who it hurts. Shae doesn’t miss me because Shae never gave a fuck about me and I can give a piss about her! Do you understand me? Fuck her. And fuck you.”

  “Fuck you too, Carlo. You don’t know half the stuff Shae and I survived.”

  “I know that my best friend would have never betrayed the family if it weren’t for you whispering lies about Giovanni in his ear.”

  Marietta eyes stretched. “You think I control Lorenzo and Giovanni’s relationship?”

  “You and that wicked pussy of yours,” Carlo sneered.

  She smiled. She laughed. She laughed until she teared. She shook her head hiccuping through her laughter and took a drink of water. “You aren’t the brightest lightbulb in the lamp Carlo but even you know I wasn’t even a twinkle in Lorenzo’s eye when he killed Giuseppe Calderone.”

  “But you were riding his dick when he killed my brother, Carmine.”

  Marietta threw her glass of water into his face. Carlo sat back unfazed. He wiped his face with one hand.

  “Lorenzo killed your brother because Carmine found out who he really was, and what he really did to Giuseppe. I told you the truth years ago. If I recall you were the one riding his dick and too stupid to see him for what he was. What kind of best friend does that make you?”