Mobster's Girl

  “Is it Red?” Vito asks.

  I snap. I spin around and hurl the bottle against the brick warehouse in front of me. It shatters and rains tiny bits of glass over the dirty pavement.

  I don’t answer the question.

  “Mannegia!” The rage doesn’t subside. I squeeze my eyes tight. “The hit’s tomorrow night. Meet me here at eight. I gotta fuckin’ go.” I can’t even look at my friends. I just pop in my car and squeal away.

  I get home around one a.m. I spent my night down at the riverside, where I kissed Megan for the first time, wondering why I didn’t see this whole frittata coming. My mother startles me when I walk into the kitchen. She’s sitting at the table with her hand wrapped around a coffee cup.

  “Hi,” she says first.

  I immediately wonder if she knew this whole fuck-up-things-with-Megan plan. She stands and pours me a cup of coffee.

  “Thanks.” I take it from her.

  “How are you doing?” That question answers mine. She knew. Does she really need an answer? I glare at her.

  She starts again. “Tonio, I disagree with this whole mess. Are you okay?”

  “Do I fuckin’ look like I’m okay?”

  My mother gives me a stern expression, but she doesn’t chastise me for swearing.

  “Your father is going along with the O’Neills, okay? He really doesn’t care if you see her. She’s a nice girl, Antonio. We like her.”

  “Then what is the problem, fanabola?!” I half yell.

  “You have to understand that her father wants to keep her safe.”

  “You’ve been married to Pop for over twenty years, and nothin’s happened to you!” I remind her, frustrated.

  “There are things you just don’t know, Tonio. Let it go,” my mom pleads while resting her hand on my arm.

  My throat feels like it’s closing up. “I don’t think I can,” I choke out. “Ma, I think I love her.”

  She reaches out and hugs me tight. When she pulls away, I see tears glistening in her eyes. “Try to get some sleep.”

  The next morning brings big changes. I have a tutor now. I’m not going back to school. My father has signed me out and made me an independent student. He says he needs me too much. The only hope I had to see Megan was at school, and they took that away too.

  Chapter 16

  Cavone (gahv-own): ignorant Italian

  Antonio

  I sit to clean my gun, getting ready for the hit tonight and trying to psych myself up. But when my dad comes in to go over the plan, I can’t focus on anything but the gaping hole in my chest. He never mentions what happened yesterday. He doesn’t even apologize. Pop is all business.

  “Now, don’t forget to go pick up Uncle Tutti’s old Chevy. And make sure Louie has a car ready.”

  I nod as he talks.

  “It’s all you, Antonio. You’re leading this.”

  I nod again. He continues to go step-by-step through the hit. I half-listen without looking away from my piece. I’ve tried Megan’s cell phone at least ten times. It goes directly to voicemail. The compulsion to talk to her is eating me alive. It’s crippling to think that she hates me.

  Everybody is pumped. The adrenaline flowing through everyone’s veins is creating an unquenchable need in me to search out and destroy our enemies. We’re in groups. I’ve taken on the responsibility of the most important part of tonight’s hit—hitting the hive. It’s a Laundromat on South Street in Sommersville. It wasn’t too hard to figure out that it’s their place of business because the people going in and out rarely have laundry or look the type to even do their own laundry.

  Mr. Maranzano and Mr. Ferretti are leading two other groups. They will come in the back way.

  My voice doesn’t feel like my own. It’s crisp and sharp. I feel outside of myself. Dino is with Mr. Ferretti, so I don’t have to look at his fuckin’ face. I’m desperately trying to shove Megan to the back of my mind. I have to suppress my hurt and anger or it will rule me tonight.

  Vito loads the back of Louie’s car with vodka bottles stuffed with rags—handmade, good old-fashioned grenades.

  Vito, Uncle Tutti, and Ronnie all pile in the old Chevy. The drive to Sommersville is about twenty-five minutes. The car is an old clunker. The engine grinds and whines every time I speed up or press the brake. No one speaks but Uncle Tutti, giving advice and words of assurance.

  We park the car on the side road near the alley in front of the Laundromat. A warehouse is to the other side of us, perfect for cover. I scouted this out last week on one of my many long days of running Pop’s errands.

  A car bomb is a good way to flush Sommersville out. Vito puts the bomb on the seat of the old Chevy. Pop is great at making bombs. Sommersville will definitely know it’s us.

  We skulk out of the diversion car. My pistol is raised, ready to shoot. Uncle Tutti and I jut out toward the back of the warehouse, waiting for Vito and Ronnie. We cover the entrance to the Laundromat. Two shots ring out, and Ronnie takes one in the shoulder. He trips, but regains his footing as he runs toward us. What the fuck? Where did those come from? It’s dark as I scan the surrounding area. Wasting time is not an option. It’s a few minutes early, but I tell Vito to blow it.

  “Now!” I say to him as Ronnie pants on the ground behind me. With one tap on the detonator the old rusted Chevy blows up and metal debris showers the road.

  “Cover us, Tonio!” Uncle Tutti shouts over the sound of the blast. He leans down to tend to Ronnie’s shot up arm.

  Where the fuck did those shots come from? Red clouds my vision as I hear Ronnie’s grunts of pain. Don’t think, just do!

  Using the building as cover, Vito and I scan the area, guns moving in succession like we were taught as kids, ready to rain lead in the air if anything moves.

  The car blazes in front of us. Even from as far away as we are, I can feel its searing heat. Uncle Tutti tugs Ronnie to a standing position.

  “Move,” I order. We need to get out of here. Someone has tipped off Sommersville. Pop suspected a mole, but now its official, fanabola!

  I nod to Vito; he dodges around the trash bins. We move and prowl like we’re in a cop show. Rage is boiling from the tips of my fingers to the top of my head. I can see Vito’s face in the low light of the street lamps—it’s twisted brutality like mine. He knows there’s a fuckin’ mole too. Loyalty is something you don’t mess with.

  The road ahead of the alley is quiet, too quiet. Slowly, we continue to advance. I have the Laundromat in my sight. Ronnie has recovered somewhat from the shot, surviving on pure adrenaline. Malice coats his features, too. The street ahead suddenly gets darker. The street lights have gone out. I know the other two teams are still surrounding the building.

  The pings of gunshots flying through the darkness ricochet around us. We drop to the ground and start firing. Using only instinct in the darkness, I listen to where the bang of the bullets comes from and fire. A strangled screech echoes in the distance. The firing abruptly stops.

  “Move!” I command. We all bolt forward, still staying behind the cover of brick walls. Gunfire starts again, but it’s muffled, like it’s coming from inside the Laundromat. We’re pinned down and in the dark.

  I see shadows up ahead—two people are dragging a body. Down the street is the car and Louie. “Go!” I yell to Uncle Tutti. “Take Ronnie. Get your asses out of here.” I squat and position my gun right at the dark figures to cover them. If they even raise a finger, I’m firing. Uncle Tutti doesn’t argue with me. He knows I’m fucking running the show.

  I give a quick look behind me to see if they made it to the car. Vito is right there. He didn’t go with them.

  “Dude, I’m not leaving you,” he says in a low voice. I nod. Vito may be a lot of things, but one thing I would never do is question his loyalty.

  “One…two…three…Go.” Vito and I continue our sweep-and-scan moves until we get in our final position to make our hit. The air is so noiseless that the only thing I can hear is the swi
sh of Vito’s leather jacket.

  The Laundromat is dark, like the street. It’s hard to see inside. I cross over the doorway so one of us is on each side of it. I’m getting ready to kick the door in when I see a flash of movement through the window.

  I motion to Vito to get ready. I swing myself up to see a person by the window. It’s a Sommersville chooch. I fire three shots through the window. The guy yells out in pain. With my gun held high, I check for damage. I got him in the thigh.

  Vito immediately kicks the door in, stays low, and crosses the threshold. I follow him. I check the area and quickly kick the gun away from the kid who is clutching his thigh and writhing on the floor. Vito picks it up and stuffs it in his waistband.

  “That’s for Ronnie, you fucker.” I stare down at him with disgust.

  We leave the kid moaning and move through the darkness. Pounding and slashing sounds are coming from behind a closed door. Slowly we advance and flank. I nod and Vito kicks in this door too. A knife fight is in full force.

  It’s Dino and some ass I don’t know. Dino is holding his own. His shirt is torn in three places, but there’s no blood on him. The other guy, on the other hand, has blood dripping from his arms, legs, face, and hands.

  “Move!” I say, and Dino hurries behind Vito and me. I’m a little surprised when he listens to me. “Where’s your piece?” I never taking my eyes off the kid who is barricading himself behind some old dryers.

  “Lost it,” Dino admits through heaving breaths.

  A door on the other end of the room opens. About ten Sommersville guys rush in.

  “Move!” I command again. Vito heads back out the way we came while I protect his back and Dino’s. Within seconds, we’re back where I shot the kid. He’s losing a lot of blood. Back on the street, we work together, exchanging positions until we see Louie’s car.

  “Go!” I yell, and we fly to the doors and jump in. Vito takes two Molotov cocktails and lights them. He hurls them out the window to stop our pursuers. We all hear the smashing sound of the glass bottles, and then the front of the Laundromat lights up like fireworks. Louie hits the gas, and we sail down the road.

  *****

  Megan:

  I’m not sure what has happened now; it’s all a blur. I haven’t seen Antonio in over a week. He never came back to school. I never talked to him after that horrible day. I’m a zombie—I eat, go to school, and play the harp. I’m a zombie harpist. I play the harp until the tips of my fingers are raw. I will the music to transport me somewhere away from the pain.

  The only person in my house that talks to me, and that I’ll talk to, is Erin. Most nights she carries my dinner to my room for me. At school, Vito won’t tell me anything. None of Antonio’s friends even look my way. I think they’re afraid I’ll ask them something they can’t answer. Alessandra came up to me right after it happened and hugged me, and then walked away.

  Troy calls every day to check on me. He has to call on the house phone because I no longer have a cell phone. My father took it away and didn’t give me a new one. I feel bad, but it’s always a one-sided conversation when he calls. It’s usually Troy doing the talking, trying to cheer me up and telling me about college, and me sitting silently. He never ever mentions Antonio or the uncomfortable time he told me he thought he and I would get married someday.

  “Guess who’s coming to Notre Dame? Guess, guess! You’ll never guess.” Troy is his bright and cheery self.

  My voice never raises or elevates. It’s too much of an effort. My chest is heavy, and the lump in my throat that never goes away keeps me from being able to speak properly. “I don’t know,” I say, not the least bit curious.

  “Miss - Megan - O’Neill!” He says my name like I’m someone famous.

  “Huh?”

  “You, my friend, have won a fabulous trip for one to the beautiful campus of Notre Dame! Five nights and six days of college life—airfare and meals included!” Troy declares, like I’ve just won a prize on the The Price Is Right.

  “What?”

  “You’re coming for a visit. It’s all arranged. Your parents already booked your flight. You leave on Friday. Isn’t it awesome? I can’t wait to see you, Meg.”

  Gripping my chest is the only way to hold myself together, or what’s left of me will fall out. The past week has enlightened me on one thing. I don’t care. The shock of the event has worn down, but not the hurt and betrayal. The fear of Antonio I always had was warranted—I get that now. Deep down, I always knew he had a dark side. I knew he wasn’t rescuing kittens from trees when he said he had things to do for his father. But does that take away the love I have for him? No. Our parents keeping us away from each other for the past ten years, knowing him only as someone in town, doesn’t change the fact that I love him.

  I can’t pinpoint when I fell in love with him. Was it when he was leaning against his car with a mischievous smile, heated eyes scorching into me, or was it when he was playing in the sandbox with me? It doesn’t matter.

  But I can pinpoint when I realized that I don’t care where he comes from or what he has to do to survive in his mafia family. My life and what’s important to me has changed in a very small amount of time.

  Troy’s voice yanks me from my revelations. He must have noticed I wasn’t listening to his rant about all the great things we were going to do at Notre Dame.

  “Troy? I gotta go. There’s something I have to do. Bye.”

  Alessandra. I need to find Alessandra. I shove my feet into my sneakers and walk out the front door. I start walking to Alessandra’s house. It’s a long way by foot, but I barely notice. When I get closer, I start running. I know what I have to do.

  Luckily, Alessandra answers the door when I knock. I’m breathing heavily from running. She has a very concerned look on her face.

  “Megan? Are you okay?”

  I grasp the doorframe. “Yeah, yeah. Just out of breath.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I need to find Antonio.”

  She gives me a sympathetic look.

  “No, seriously, I need to find him. I need to talk to him.”

  Alessandra takes my hand and tugs me through her house to her bedroom. I take being dragged through her house as a sign that we’re going to talk, but what I find in her bedroom astonishes me.

  Sitting on the floor against the wall, jean clad, knees bent, head in his hands, is Antonio. His whole demeanor is of someone in despair and lost.

  Finally, he glances up. His face registers different emotions; elation, happiness, and then wariness. He jumps to his feet, still as shocked as I am. He is just as gorgeous as always. Intensity stares at me through his eyes. Alessandra continues to hold my hand, but she soon lets go and walks out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

  Antonio steps towards me, reaches out, and crushes me to him in one fluid motion. “Megan…” he sighes into my hair. “I’m sorry. Don’t hate me.” My arms wrap around his toned waist. He is the most amazing guy I have ever known. His words sound like they have been on the tip of his tongue for a while, but have never had a chance to spill out until now. “Tell me you still want me.” This is so unlike Antonio. His words sound insecure and unsure.

  I hold him tighter and talking into his chest, “I never stopped wanting you.” We hold each other, squeezing, and my chest compresses. He loosens his hold. We stand for a long time clinging to each other. Gently, he strokes my hair as he holds me. Deep down we both knew, no matter what, we belong together.

  Desperation and loneliness has consumed me all week. Grasping the betrayal of my family and the images of Antonio thrashing that man haunted me day and night. Standing in his arms right now is amazing, and I’m not sure how I survived so many years without him.

  “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I should have told you.”

  “It’s okay,” I tell him, and I mean it.

  I leave Alessandra’s feeling liberated. Antonio and I are going to see each other tomorrow night. We’re
going to talk, figure things out. Alessandra hugs me tight before I go out the door. For the first time since this mess started, everything feels right.

  Chapter 17

  Cazzo (kaatso): Balls!

  Megan

  My lips are still tingling from Antonio’s rough kisses. I catch myself smiling all the way home. Antonio offered to drive me. He had his father’s car. He said he hasn’t been driving his much because it reminds him too much of taking me back and forth to school. I still don’t want to risk my parents catching us together. We are going to have to sneak around and lie if we’re going to keep seeing each other. Just knowing that I’m going to see him is enough to sustain me.

  The way my mother’s been treating me? I could care less. She looked triumphant and smug the day Dad took me to see Antonio. I won’t let someone like that ruin my happiness, even if it is my mother.

  The darkness of evening sneaks up on me. The days are getting shorter as autumn wanes. By the time I climb the stairs to go into the house, it’s totally dark out. The house seems exceptionally quiet. Well, it has been real quiet since last week.

  Feeling better than I have in a while with the lump in my throat finally gone, I head straight to the kitchen. I reach for the light switch, and a hand grabs my wrist and painfully forces my arm behind my back. My eyes adjust to the shadowy room. I see my mom and Erin bound against our kitchen chairs. Panic surges through me.

  My assailant shoves me into a chair and presses on my shoulder to hold me down. I struggle and clutch at him, but he’s too strong.

  I hear a ripping sound from behind me. Quickly, he binds my hands with what feels like duct tape. Harshly, my hair is tugged so that my face is thrust up, and my attacker hisses, “Don’t fuckin’ move.”

  I definitely don’t know this person. I can see better now. He’s tall, with blue eyes. His face is scruffy, like he hasn’t shaved in a few days. I glance at my mother and sister. Tears are streaming down my sister’s face. My mother is staring straight at me like I have all the answers in the world for what’s going on. But I don’t.

  “We’re just gonna sit here and wait for the Cleaner,” he says, sitting down in the fourth chair. He crosses his arms and legs in a gesture that shows he’s got all the time in the world. He holds a pistol in his right hand, up against his chest. It has a long cylinder-like piece on the end. From watching way too many cop shows, I’m guessing it’s a silencer.