Awakening the Mobster (5 page)

I wrap my arms around his beautifully sculpted ones. His skin is hot. He is so focused on me...intent. His hands run down my sides, than back up, never breaking our ardent kiss. He cups my breast in his hand and moans into my mouth. A zing of pleasure travels through my body dazing me.

His intensity is pleasurable and frightening all at once. No one has ever made me feel this way, and I don’t want it to stop. I trail my hands down his back and over his flannel pants. The muscles underneath are tight. His hips start moving against me. Even through my thick jeans, I can feel the hardness of him.
Oh God! So sensual and gratifying!

Knock, knock...

Vito calls out, “It’s your Pop.” The doorway is empty.

“Fuck!” Antonio curses, and crawls off me. His pants are tented and his chest is bare. I blush. Still sprawled out on the bed, I turn away.

I can hear Vito and Antonio out in the hallway whispering.

“You can’t go out there like that. Erin is on the couch,” Vito says.

“Get me a pen and a piece of paper,” Antonio says, his voice husky.

“Hey Pop.” (pause) “Everything’s okay, so far.” (pause) “Yeah, I can do that. Where was he last seen?” (pause) “Got it.”(pause) “I will. Love you too, Pop. Bye.”

“I gotta go after a runner today,” Antonio says to Vito. “You’ll have to stay with the girls.”

“What do you mean? All the way out here in bum-fuck nowhere?
Fanabola!
”

“Pop did some checking on someone that has been evading Donny for a while. They think he’s here. I gotta check it out. He owes Popa lot of
scarol
.”

“Marrone,Tonio! Your work is never done,” Vito says.

Listening to their conversation, I lie on my side. Vito is right. Antonio’s life is never going to change.

Chapter 6

Scarol (ska-roll): money!

Megan:

Around six, Antonio comes back. His eyes glint with that chilling look that fascinates and scares me. He says nothing as he walks in. He just scoops me into his arms and kisses me. His body slowly releases tension as he melts more into my arms.

“You are so calming,” he whispers in my ear.

Vito had taken Erin and me to the library on campus today. It was an amazing building, lined floor to ceiling with every book imaginable. I signed up for a library card, and we checked out a couple of books. Vito just stood by watching and listening. He scanned our surroundings like his was guarding rockstars.

The only time he wasn’t on total hyper-vigilance was when he was watching Erin. A few times, I caught him reading over her shoulder. I immediately thought that he just felt really bad for my sallow-faced, duped sister. Then I saw something in his gaze as he studied her that I didn’t like.

My strength and wits returned today. The queasiness and shock of the past couple of days are finally waning. Wrapped up in Antonio’s arms last night was comforting and powerful. I am actually excited to meet some students on campus tonight.

Antonio goes to shower, and Vito is cooking in our kitchen. He is opening drawers and chopping vegetables. The smell of homemade pizza wafts through the suite.

Erin comes out of her room holding a novel she is reading and sits down at the table. Vito has his back to her getting plates out. He turns and yelps, “Shit! You scared me!”

I truly don’t think that happens too often with Vito. And I highly doubt my fourteen-year-old sister, very soon to be fifteen, would be the one to scare him. She lets out a small giggle.
Holy Crap! That’s a good sign.

We all converge at the table and Vito cuts the pizza. It smells heavenly. He has made it with all fresh ingredients — basil, hand cut tomatoes, mozzarella and ricotta cheeses. He slides a piece onto a plate for me. It is perfect. I hold the pizza to my mouth and bite.
Boy, can Vito cook!

“This is absolutely delicious,” I tell him.

“I don’t know about that, but it’s better than the crap we had last night,” Vito says, humbly.
Wow, is he embarrassed at a compliment?

“Yeah, it’s good, man,” Antonio says, agreeing with me.

We all clean up together. Antonio steals kisses as we work.

We dress and get ready to go to Dillon Hall. I pick a tight fitting pink cashmere sweater and jeans.

Erin eyes are vacant. Her face makes her look like she’s been dead for three days and no one told her to lie down. I put some gloss on her lips and blush on her cheeks. It helps a little. She dresses in jeans and a sweater too. I brush her long red hair for her. As I move the brush down her long hair I speak softly to her. My sister has never looked her age. She can pass for seventeen or eighteen easily, even though she is tiny.

I finish getting Erin and myself dressed. I grab our jackets off the bed and head out into the living room. Standing by the door waiting are Vito and Antonio. They both have leather jackets on.

Antonio looks yummy. His wavy dark hair is brushed but it is ruffled like he’s rubbed his hands through it about ten times. A pack of cigarettes sticks out the side pocket. He smiles at me.

Vito is twice his normal size in his jacket and his normal size is big. It makes him look broader and unapproachable. I push a reluctant Erin in front of me.

We had to park on the street because of all the hall parking spaces are full. Antonio holds my hand. It is dark out, only the beams of street lights are visible, and the shadows of buildings and bushes surround us.

The party is much more rowdy than I envisioned. Tons of people are here. There is a riotous essence in the air. Music is blaring and thumping. Every single person inside and out is carrying a plastic cup. Girls are wearing strapless or sleeveless tops and no jackets despite the fall chill.

A steady stream of people crosses over the threshold to the dorm, coming in and out. It dawns on me that finding Troy will be like finding a needle in a haystack.

Antonio and Vito are cautious scanning the crowd. I’m watching the flirty glances and nods of approval these college girls are giving my boyfriend, and that makes me want to scratch their eyes out. I should be empowered and hopeful since I will be coming here next year. But I’m not. I am territorial and leery.

Even Vito gets the stares. My sister is only watching the ground. She’s not meeting anyone’s eyes. She definitely doesn’t want to be here. Maybe this was a mistake.

Antonio and Vito stand out like chocolate chips in vanilla ice cream. Everyone here is paler and with a myriad of different hair colors—blond, red, light brown. Actually, in the looks department, Erin and I fit right in. Antonio and Vito are the ones who don’t blend in. But they always look like they could have starring roles in the Godfather movies.

Come to think of it, won’t Antonio
be
the Godfather someday, the Mob Boss of Palmetto? That’s unsettling. I tighten my grip on Antonio’s hand.

“Hey, Meg!” I hear. It’s Troy.

“Hey, Troy,” I say. “How did you find us?” Troy’s wearing comfortably worn jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt. He’s seems in his element, relaxed. The college life agrees with him.

“I spotted your Italian henchmen first,” Troy smirks.

A crowd starts chanting and yelling from under one of the spotlights glowing from the building. The group is in a circle and the circle moves with whatever is going on inside it. The yelling gets louder, then part of the circle scatters. Two guys fall over on the grass, grunting and hitting each other. Cheers erupt as the guys bang the crap out of each other.

Antonio pushes me behind him then tugs on Erin’s arm. She is frozen watching the fight. The onlookers move and shift with the fighters, and they’re getting closer.

Vito gently moves Erin farther away, and Antonio and I follow. Troy shifts with us to a new location...just far enough away to observe.

“What’s going on?” I ask Troy.

“The Gauntlet,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Huh?” I ask. Not liking the sound of the word
Gauntlet
.

“It’s simple, really. Two guys step up to run the challenge. Five girls line up with five beers. Each challenger drinks them as fast as they can. Then they run over to arm wrestle Bubba and Jake over there.” He points to a couple of guys at a folding table. “The first one to win,
if they win
, runs to the circle and fights the last guy standing from the last round. They fight their way to the Irish flag over there.” He points to a tiny flag on a stake in the grass which is barely visible in the dark. First one to grab it is the winner.” Troy says triumphantly.

“Cool,” Vito says.

“Cool?” I exclaim. “That’s barbaric!” Antonio, Vito, and even Troy give me weird expressions. I laugh at myself. Considering the turns my life has taken, it is just boys having fun.

“No one is forced Megan,” Troy reassures me. “It’s their choice. And if you can’t make it through the first trials you can’t do the last, the fighting.” True.

“Have you done it?” I ask him.

“No, no... I’m too pretty for that.” Troy says joking, as he motions towards the ruckus of fighting.

Antonio snorts. He moves behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, a loving and possessive gesture.

“The next one is just about to start. See the girls lined up over there?” Troy asks.

We walk towards two lines of girls holding large plastic cups. Two guys stand at the end, shirtless and barefoot in the cold. They are pumped up, hooting and hollering. The word ‘GO!’ echoes through the crowd.

The guys run to the girls and start drinking. They are gulping and sloshing the beer all over themselves. After they finish each cup, they ceremoniously throw them down on the ground. They move down the line fairly quickly. Cheers and chanting follow them. One guy even wastes precious seconds kissing one of the girls. “Ooooh...” resonates among the spectators.

Kissy-Guy finishes first and runs to the arm wrestling table. Sweat and beer fly off him as he shakes his head trying to clear it. He sits down and lines himself up for arm wrestling.

The other guy, quite ungracefully,trips into the table. He is fighting the fuzziness of the beer. Kissy-Guy is already immersed in wrestling. He is struggling to gain an advantage. The challenger doesn’t have a chance; he can barely keep his hand straight. His opponent is laughing at him.

Vito is watching this whole thing delighted. Finally, Kissy-Guy flips Bubba or Jake’s arm to the table. Then he runs with difficulty to the waiting crowd on the other side of the grass. Standing in the middle is the winner of the last round.

Kissy-Guy gets a punch in and tries to run towards the flag, but the challenger grabs his legs and flattens him to the ground. They struggle, punching and kicking. We watch and, occasionally, I hear Antonio snickering in my ear. He thinks this whole gauntlet thing is funny.

“How ‘bout a little fun, Tonio?” Vito says mischievously, rubbing his hands together like he’s waiting for his Christmas gifts.

Erin is quiet and shakes her head. She still hasn’t looked at Troy.

“Nah, man,” Antonio says chuckling. He is nuzzling my neck. “I already beat the shit out of someone today.” Troy’s head swings around to Antonio, shocked. I reach to touch his hands that are laced across my stomach. His knuckles are swollen and rough. It never dawned on me that he might have caught the guy his dad had him chasing. “You go. I’ll stay with the girls.”

Vito’s face lights up.
Oh yeah, it’s Christmas!
Then he grins at Troy, “Where do I sign up?”

Troy and Vito walk away from us, heads together, talking. I think Troy might have made a new friend.

A few people converge on them as Antonio, Erin, and I stand back towards the road. We still have a great view though. Through the throngs of people, we see Vito emerge shirtless and barefoot.

“I guess there wasn’t a very long line,” Antonio says is my ear.

“I guess not,” I say. “I’m nervous.” Antonio shifts me so that I can see his face.

“Don’t be,” he says smiling.

Erin takes my hand, apparently worried too.

Someone yells ‘GO!’ and Vito and his challenger are off. Vito is much broader and larger than his opponent, definitely more cut. They’re on beer two. Vito chucks his cup to the ground smiling. Beer three.The pretty girl who hands him the cup tries to steal a kiss. Vito shuts her down by waving his finger at her in a
nuh-uh
gesture. The crowd gives a low “Oooooh...” The dissed girl gets angry. The guy next to Vito is slowing down. Vito keeps going. His body is quickly getting slicked with beer.

Beer four and five are a blur. “How is he not affected?” I ask Antonio. Vito is running to the arm wrestling table. He sits down not even fazed by the alcohol he just chugged.

“We’ve been drinking a long time,” Antonio says with mirth. “It started with the wine Nonna makes in her cellar. It was downhill from there.”

Vito slams the arm of the wrestler onto the table with little effort. It happened in seconds.
WOW!

He runs to the other side of the grass. Kissy-Guy was out. This guy had won two rounds at least. Without ceremony, Vito punches the guy square in the face. He goes down hard, like a sack of potatoes. Vito runs right by him to the flag and grabs it. He holds it up. Everything happens so fast. The crowd, Erin and I stand with our mouths open, dumbfounded. Antonio cheers for his friend, breaking the semi-silence.

“Woo-hoo, Vito!” he yells.

Vito marches over to us. Antonio and Vito clasp arms and slap each other on the back. I feel cold with the loss of Antonio’s arms. The smell of stale beer emanates from Vito. Erin glances up at him. He puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder and smiles down at her.

“How was that?” he asks. “You need a little entertainment.” He is grinning wickedly at her. She pushes his arm off her shoulder and walks away.

At that moment, tons and tons of people from the party come over. Smacking Vito, high-fiving him. Girls wiggle their way closer to him, flirting. Gushing about how they’ve never seen anything like that. We are encircled with people. I am uncomfortable.