Mobster's Girl (14 page)

“Whoa, Antonio, what’s with the hard shit?”
Ronnie asks as I swig the clear alcohol from the bottle.

“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 but I say,
“Mannegia!” The rage doesn’t subside. I squeeze my eyes tight. “The
hit’s tomorrow night. Meet me here at 8. I gotta fuckin’ go.” I
can’t even look at my friends. I just pop in my car and squeal
away.

I got home around one am. I had sat down at
the river side where I kissed Megan for the first time wondering
why I didn’t see this whole
frittata
coming. My mother
startled me when I walked into the kitchen. She’s sitting at the
table with her hand wrapped around a coffee cup.

“Hi,” she says.

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 say as 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
doesn’t chastise me for swearing.

“Your father is going along with the
O’Neill’s, 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 20 years
and nothin’s happened to you!” I say 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 is closing up, it feels odd, “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 brought 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 said he needs me too
much. The only hope I had to see Megan was at school and they took
that away too.

Cavone (gahv-own): ignorant Italian

I was sitting cleaning my gun getting ready
for the hit tonight trying to psych myself up instead feeling this
hole left gaping open in my chest when my Dad comes in to go over
the plan. 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 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. We are in groups. I have taken on the
responsibility of the most important parts of tonight-hitting the
hive. It is a Laundromat on South Street in Sommersville. It isn’t
too hard to figure out 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 is
crisp and sharp and 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 25 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 had scouted this out last week on one of
my many long days of running Pops
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 towards 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
towards 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 sounds 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 jerks
Ronnie to a standing position.

“Move,” I say. We need to get out of there.
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
site. Ronnie has regained himself 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 ping of gun shots flying through the
darkness ricochets 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 came from and fire. A strangled screech echoes
in the distance. The firing abruptly stops.

“Move!” I say. We all bolt forward still
staying behind the cover of brick walls. Gun fire starts again but
it is muffled like it is 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 low. I
nod. Vito may be a lot of things but one thing I would never do is
question his loyalty.

“1..2..3..Go” I say. 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 the only thing I can hear is the swish
of Vito’s leather jacket.

The Laundromat is dark like the street. It is
hard to see inside. I cross over the doorway so one of us is on
each side of it. I am getting ready to kick the door 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 and stays
low and crosses the threshold. I follow him. I check the area and
quickly kick the gun away from the kid clutching his thigh 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 no blood.
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 he listened to me. “Where’s your
piece?” I say never taking my eyes off the kid who is barricading
himself behind some old dryers.

“Lost it,” Dino says 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 are back where I shot the kid. He is losing a lot of
blood. Then 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 hurtles
them out the window to stop our pursuers. The smashing sound of the
glass bottles is the first thing we hear 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 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 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
that it’s a one-sided conversation when he calls. It’s usually Troy
doing the talking, trying to cheer me up and telling me about
college. He never ever mentions Antonio or the uncomfortable time
he told me he thought he and I would get married someday.

“Guess who is 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 had been warranted. 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 playing in the
sand box?
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 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.