Mobster's Girl (17 page)

I’m trying really hard not to succumb to the
horror of last night or the repulsion of the hidden life my father
leads. When my father finally made it to the O’Connell’s he told
me. I can’t rid myself of the ickiness that is crawling up my
throat. His words of confession rattle around in my mind. Disgust
and anguish sicken my stomach where butterflies used to be.

The betrayal of my parents singes my soul.
I’m a victim-a victim of my environment just as much as Antonio. My
father is the devil and I am his spawn. Antonio and I are more
alike than I could ever even imagine. This upsurge of emotions
crackles and burns underneath my skin. They are a moan and mumble
of discomfort and shame. The only solace I have is Antonio and my
sister here with me. Right now, they are the only two people I
trust.

Where the fuck do we go from here?

End of Part One

COMING SOON: AWAKENING THE MOBSTER!

Coming Summer 2012

“Turn the heat down Lib, I’m starting to
sweat in my new ski outfit.” Cassie chided her friend as they
coasted down the highway. They were headed for the beloved
mountains of New Hampshire.

“No, I’m cold. Take your coat off.” Jill
whined.

Libby pressed down on the accelerator. The
sooner they got to the ski house the sooner she wouldn’t have to
listen to the bickering. The three friends take a weekend every
winter to breathe the fresh mountain air. Libby looked at it as
breathing fresh mountain air. Cassie looked at it as meeting
“Mountain men,” and Jill just wanted to get away from her
parents.

The highway bottlenecked into a two lane road
that zigged and zagged through the mountains crusted in white.
Libby had borrowed her mother’s explorer with four-wheel drive. In
years past, the girls had run into trouble with navigating through
heavy snow in a car.

This year was going to be different though
because instead of downhill skiing they are trying cross country
skiing. Jill’s uncle recommended an area off the beaten path. Since
the ski house was his, he knew the in places to ski. Jill’s family
was mostly stockbrokers. They had done really well and made quite a
bit of money at it even in the economic depression.

“How much further?” Cassie asked. “I think
I’ve sweated off about five pounds.”

“Ugh, don’t be so dramatic. Why don’t you
crack a window and hang your head out like a dog?” Jill
quipped.

“Why you little?...” Cassie flamed back.

“Enough.” Libby warned. “No more fighting or
I will turn this car around.”

“Gee whiz, Ma.” Cassie says with sarcasm.
“You’re no fun. Hey, you think we’ll meet a lot of guys this year?
You know going someplace new.”

“I don’t know. We’re going near some closed
down slopes. Jill’s uncle said it’s a pretty prestigious yet not a
well-known place.”

“Good maybe that means everyone will have
their teeth.”

Cassie’s statement got a good laugh out of
Jill. “You’re terrible,” Jill chuckled.

“I try,” Cassie said.

“What do the directions say to do next? We’re
at the fork in the road.” Libby asked.

“Go right. Stay on this road for five
miles.”

It was a long deserted five miles. All you
could see was white. No houses, businesses, or toothless people. At
the end of the road was a heavy black gate.

“You have to buzz for us to be let in.” Jill
said.

Libby pressed the button. A staticky voice
asked, “Can I help you?”

“Yes, we are staying at Gary Vickson’s
house.” Libby yelled into the gray box on the stone pillar.

“Pull up to the guard building please.” The
faceless voice said.

“Impressive,” Cassie cooed.

Through the gate stood an outhouse-like
building and a man stepped out of it.

“Can I help you girls?”

Jill leaned forward from the back seat. “I’m
Gary Vickson’s niece. He’s letting us stay at his house for the
weekend.”

“Yes, I have you down on my sheet. Go
straight up the hill and take a left. The Vickson Cottage is number
53. The place should be all ready for you.”

Kyle’s head was freely lolling back and forth
on the headrest of Randy’s Hummer as the SUV bobbed and rocked up
the ice covered dirt road. His gray ski shirt hugged his fit body.
Music thumped through the speakers. Alex sat upfront shotgun and
read the map.

They are headed towards Deadman’s Drop.
Deadman’s Drop is an eerily steep slope that was shut down years
ago on Mount Carter. It was shut down because more than a few
people had been seriously hurt-one kid even died. Not only was the
skiing treacherous but the temperatures never followed the rest of
the area’s climate. It was always much colder there. Some say that
it’s the way the slope faces in relationship to other mountains and
some say it’s cursed. Either way Randy, Alex, and Kyle were headed
to conquer the dreaded slope.

“It is really icing up.” Randy said as he
navigated the hardly used road. He kept the Hummer in four wheel
drive and weaved his way slowly up the road. His yellow ski coat
made swishing sounds as he spun the wheel to keep up his momentum.
The road was kept and plowed because of a few scattered houses that
sat peacefully on the mountainside, “How much longer?”

“I say go until the road ends, then were
going to have to hike the rest.” Alex told him.

Randy drove until he reached a red metal bar
that served as a gate. A sign on the gate read, road closed October
to April. “Great, how far will we have to hike?”

“Oh, about a mile straight up.” Alex
smiled.

“Shit.” Randy cursed. Kyle never said a word
just got out of the vehicle and started putting on his gear.

Once they were all loaded up with their
Snowboards strapped to their backs. They started climbing single
file up the side of Deadman’s Drop. They stepped out from the trees
to look up at the slope.

“Holy shit! What a drop!” Alex yelled.
“Awesome!”

“Yeah, if your puny ass can climb that high.”
Randy laughed.

Kyle’s mirrored goggles turned their way. His
head shook and he never broke stride.

The walking was hard in the boots and the
slope very steep. Randy was sweating within twenty minutes. Nobody
wanted to admit struggling. Conversation was minimal because of the
concentration required to just walk. It wasn’t out of the ordinary
for Kyle not to make small talk. He barely ever said anything.
Randy and Alex just accepted that about Kyle. He was quiet by
nature. Even when they went to high school, (they all graduated
last year) he walked the halls just nodding to people. In class, he
was never in trouble. Kyle kept to himself and did what he had to
do. All three of them were accepted to Boston University. They
ended up at the same dorm so they gravitated towards each other.
This being the break after their first semester, they decided to do
something daring.

Thank you to a tattoo on a sixteen year old
in 1988. Many thanks to the editing efforts of my friend Deanna
Riccitelli. Thanks to my husband, Tim, who pushed me to continue
writing even though he’s a non-fiction man. And to my son, CJ, for
his patience.

And a very special thanks to all the Paesans
and Goombahs in my life.
OH YEAH, and the Chooches too!

Visit Amy at her website for news and updates on all
her upcoming releases:

http://www.amyrachiele.com