by Kara Hart
So I sit with a bowed head in the pouring rain, listening to the priest read out of the Bible. But I can't help but think about how many more of our loved ones will be taken from us. We'll keep mourning and they'll keep firing, as the priests of the world absolve the wicked of all their sins.
I can't sit back and watch this shit any longer. There's only so much a person can take before they decide to either fight back or run away. Well, I'm not a woman who runs. I'm staying and I'm protesting their world for the rest of my existence. It's either that, or I watch my father and my brother die off. They're already on the radar after they spoke on television after the crime. So I'm sticking by them.
164
Bianca
“They better believe we’re coming after them! This is the Luciotti family, God dammit!” My brother is drunk and it’s totally embarrassing. The funeral after party has turned into the meeting grounds for half-assed mobsters who wouldn’t take a stand if their mothers asked them to. I snort loudly and all eyes fall on me. Whoops.
“What’s so fucking funny?” My cousin Ricky looks at me. I guess he’s like the Don of the family, but that doesn’t mean much to me. He’s still an idiot.
I set my drink down and look at all of the sad and sorry-eyed lot. “You all claim the name Luciotti, as if it’s something to be proud of. The Luciotti family hasn’t done shit in over five years. No offense, but are you really going to take on New York’s biggest crime family?”
They’re pissed. Great. I’ve pissed of my entire family. That includes my second cousins. It’s like everyone who’s talked to my grandpa once in their lives, has now decided that he’s actually important enough to honor. Italians and their big displays. Everyone came bearing massive flowers and a bottle of wine. But I know why they all really came. They all just want to get drunk and talk about business. They want to feel powerful again. Fucking pricks.
“You, little missy, need to mind your own business. Where’s your father, huh?” He squeezes my cheek as if I’m seven again. I’m twenty-three. I think I can handle myself. Instead, I’m treated like a child when I’m around these patriarchal mamalukes. “Why don’t you go run off to your room. Let the men discuss business.”
“Are you kidding, Ricky?” I stand up quickly, adrenaline flowing freely through my body. There’s nothing I hated more than being talked down to and I wasn’t about to let this loser tell me off. “Listen, you idiot. You barely even knew my grandpa, so I don’t even know why you’re here. Oh, right. To discuss business. That’s great. As for me, I actually loved the guy. But, sure, I’ll run off to my room and play with my dollies. Asshole.”
All the men are staring at me. Tony Maccione, an old friend of my grandpa makes a noise like, “Whoa!” when I stand up. They’re not used to women taking charge. Well, buddy. Get used to it. This is the 21st century, not the 1800’s in Sicily.
When I turn to walk off, my glass of red wine spills all over Ricky’s heather grey suit and I can tell he’s pissed to no end. Red flushes his cheeks and his teeth gnash together. He’s silent, but his breathing is heavy. I don’t get the problem. The suit looked bad anyway.
“Come here for a second, doll,” he says to me, waving his fingers at me like I’m a dog or something. “I need to tell you something about respect.”
I make a grossed out noise against my loud sigh. “No thanks, Ricky. Oh, by the way, everyone. Ricky hit on me at the Christmas party last year. Yeah, that’s right. He told me it wasn’t that weird for a Don to fuck his cousin,” I smile. “Do with that what you will. He’s not my problem anymore.”
I walk off to my room, through the crowd of shocked Italian wives and angered husbands. If I was a man, they’d have my head in a bag by now. Whatever. The whole loyalty thing goes a bit too far when you can’t even speak up for yourself. All the women in the room were totally screwed by staying with these idiots.
When I walk past the kitchen, there’s a man sitting within the crowd. His suit is black, his hair is slicked back, and he’s keeping to himself. He’s big in stature, as if he’s been working out in a prison yard for the last decade. His face is hardened, yet the gaze in his eyes is young. He’s around thirty, maybe thirty-five at the oldest. I can tell he’s gone through more than most in this room and that scares me. Who is he and what does he want with my family?
When he looks up at me, fear flows through my spine. He nods, squints his eyes, and looks away, almost mechanically. It’s not long before he blends back into the crowd. I don’t know who he is, and yet I know everyone here. Everyone, but that man.
I nearly run into my room and shut the door. Sure enough, minutes later there’s a hard knock on my door. I can feel my heart beating a million beats per second. My chest is caving in. I’m panicking, looking at my window. It’s my only escape. There are another three knocks on my door. Knock, knock, knock. And then the door knob twists and opens. Shit!
“Bianca? Where’d you go? Are you in here?” Calm immediately washes over me when I hear the voice speaking. It’s my father, thank God. He walks in and shuts the door. “Bianca, there you are.”
“Hey, Dad,” I sigh. “I’m sorry about Grandpa.”
“It’s alright. It’s life,” he says, breathing in deep.
I laugh awkwardly and say “Yeah, sure. It doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck.”
He nods. In the other room, I can hear Ricky screaming a joke loudly, being the center of attention like he always is. I met his brother once. His name was Lucas or something. He seemed much more reserved than Ricky. He was actually kind of nice.
“How are you holding up?” he asks me. “You and Grandpa were always close.”
I shrug, but a revealing tear lets him know that I am not okay. No, I’m a lot fucking less than okay. Still, I feel like I need to stay strong for my family. For my father. After all, it was his dad that died, not mine.
“I’m just angry, you know? I can’t stand this mob bullshit. They all think they’re high and mighty, and they claim they’re all good Catholics. But what are they talking about out there? Revenge? How can you talk about killing someone when your own family member just got shot? I don’t get these people, Dad. I hate that I was born into this psychotic family.”
My dad somehow laughs at this. He knows how crazy his family is, I guess. He’s the one that really grew up in it. I was always on the fringe, which allowed me to judge from afar. He was forced into it, making drug runs at a young age, until he asked to be let out to start the family exporting business. They agreed, so long as they got a cut of course.
“I hate it too, honey,” he says, hugging me. “But please be careful. Some of these guys don’t know you. They’ll get the wrong idea.”
I feel angered by this. I feel resentment even. “Fuck that! I should be allowed to say what’s on my mind. They shouldn’t always be able to minimize my feelings.”
“Yeah, well. Some of these guys go way back, to the homeland,” he says.
“The homeland?” I laugh. “Give me a break.”
“Yes,” he whispers. “The fucking homeland. And some of these guys wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. Maybe they wouldn’t on you, but they sure as hell would on me. You want to upset the order? Become a lawyer already. Fight against the real crooks of the world. I understand your anger, Bianca. I’m just saying, be really careful how you respond to that anger.”
We’ve had this type of talk too many times to count. When Mom died in high school, I pretty much gave up on my life. My grades started to fail, my social life went down the drain, and all I could think about was dying so I could spend just one second with her again. I just wanted my mom back so badly. Dad knew how I felt. He was the one who fell in love with her. But he always told me, “You have to be careful how you respond to anger and pain. You can’t let them take control of you. If you do, Mom will really be gone forever.”
“Ugh. I have to get out of this family,” I sigh. “I wasn’t joking about Ricky, you know. He came on to me last Christmas. H
e’s completely disgusting.”
“I don’t doubt it, honestly. I’ve never liked the guy. Thing is, he’s running the family name into the ground. Good riddance, right?” he laughs. “I’ll talk to him, though. I’ll make sure he stops harassing you.”
“It’s fine,” I say. “I just needed to get it off my chest or something. Lately, I’ve just felt that—”
Before I can even finish what I’m saying, I hear a loud bang go off outside. It sounds like a small explosion, almost like a tire popping on the side of the highway. “What the hell was that?” I ask, jumping up from my bed.
My heart races and my skin turns icy. I’m freaking out. I fall back against the corner of my room and attempt to hide. This is not what I came back for. I don’t want to end up getting killed at my grandpa’s funeral. Outside, I hear loud commotion. Something falls and breaks. Footsteps are heard stomping on the wood floors. Muffled cries echo off the walls.
He gets up and motions for me to stay back. “I don’t know, but stay here. Lock the door. I’m going out to check.”
He opens the door slowly and peeks his head into the hallway. Screaming and crying filters through the hallway. Men are shouting and arguing, but there’s no more gunfire.
“Everybody just stay where the fuck you are!” Ricky screams. “No one leaves this house! I want everyone just to sit and stay calm.”
But no one listens to a word he says. A huge crowd simply runs out and Ricky is left scrambling to hold people inside. Finally, he takes out his gun and displays it high up in the air.
“Who the fuck did it? I want names, God dammit!” he yells.
Someone else screams, “Where’d he go? I saw him! He was right next to me, I swear it!”
“What did he look like?” My dad asks, “Give me all the information. We need men on the streets now.”
I walk slowly out in the hall and see Tony Maccione, lying in a pool of his own blood. I fall backwards and trip, hitting the floor hard. “Shit,” I groan. I shield my eyes and then I start to feel sick. On the ground, I’m facing the window on the front door of our house.
Outside is that man again, dressed in his black suit. He simply nods and ducks away into an alleyway across the street. “Who are you?” I whisper among the commotion. He’s quick and completely soundless, like a ghost.
“Where is he, you fucking idiots?” Ricky screams at his goons. I quickly realize, that man I saw is out for blood and it’s not going to be over anytime soon.
I actually laugh, as deranged as it sounds. It’s not going to be over anytime soon. It never is. No, things are not going to get any easier and I’m stuck right in the middle of it. No doubt, Ricky is going to get my side of the family involved and there will be more bloodshed.
“Great,” I shake my head. “All because of a debt that went unpaid and a few harsh words exchanged.”
“Welcome back to the family,” Ricky smiles. “It’s hell out there.”
165
Hunter
I’m no fucking saint. I think we’ve cleared that up from the get go. No, I’m death himself. One down, five more to go. All those that have wronged me must die. Tony Maccione threw me under the bus. He was always so fucking friendly, always walking around with a smile on his face. “Let’s have a drink!” he said to me, before trying to gun me down. “Every so often, a man needs to celebrate his life by getting drunk with a good friend.”
Well, I didn’t know I was walking into my own funeral party. Looks like he just walked into his.
But that was the past and this is the present. Debts will be cleared and I will have my revenge. Only, now I need to remain quiet. I need to wait until this dies down before I’m good to strike again.
This old warehouse I’m staying in isn’t exactly ideal, but it’ll have to do. My thoughts, however, run wild when I’m alone. There’s no one to talk to. No one, except the rats in the piping. They tip toe across the floorboards, tip tap, tip tap, and they hardly ever stop. Fuck, I gotta get out of here.
I wait until nightfall to leave. There’s an old strip club down the way. It’s a place not too many people know about and it’s pretty damn awful. Still, it’s something, and I need some entertainment tonight. I need a wet cunt to pound and a reason to keep living.
It’s not all about revenge. Sometimes it’s about pleasure too. There was that girl today. God, she was fucking hot. That’s a real woman if I ever saw one. She was young, beautiful, and she spoke her mind. If I could pay her to give me a show, I would. I bet she’s a freak in bed, a total beggar. With that perfect Italian skin, her wavy brown hair, and those thick lips… Marone! She ought to go into modeling or something.
I keep thinking about her. I’m not sure why either. Women are common in my business, but I guess it’s been a long time since I’ve gotten mine. It’s something about her purity. It’s something in that look she gave me. A mixture of curiosity and loathing. Lord knows I love a woman who hates my guts. It only makes the chase that much better.
I slip out of my humble abode and walk four blocks. A thundercloud cracks above my head and rain starts to crash down on the city streets of Detroit. This is the underbelly of crime, corruption, and distrust. This is the city I grew up in. More likely than not, this is the city I’ll die in. I just hope I can get another taste of pussy before I go.
Blocks later, I’m standing in the doorway to “Girls, Girls, Girls!” the shadiest adult club in the entire city. The door guy takes one look at me and waves me in. I tip him a twenty and move along.
When I walk inside, the music is blaring and the tits are out in full force. They hired a group of young girls and I can tell they’re new by the way they’re standing with each other. I call a blonde over and say, “Give me three shots of vodka and a VIP room. I want you for myself tonight.”
“Um, okay!” she smiles and runs to the bar to grab my drinks. The way her cute butt bounces up and down makes my heart quicken. She’s ditzy, but she’ll do. I’m not out here to have a philosophical discussion with the woman.
I’m going to have to be careful with her. I straighten my suit out and adjust the cufflinks. I look at myself in the mirror and the neon lights flicker all around me. I look on point tonight, that’s for sure. And even though I’m essentially still a prisoner and an outlaw, I feel free for once. Killing Tony has given me a wave of energy.
She comes back with four shots and I look at her angrily. “Did you even listen to a word I said to you? Three shots, I said. Three. I’m not paying for this other one.” I push the shot away and watch how she reacts. Yeah, I’m a bastard. Tonight, I can afford to be.
She bats her eyes and kisses my cheek, “Oh, Daddy. Don’t be silly,” she purrs. “This one is for me. You don’t expect me to go into a VIP room dry. Do you?”
“Daddy, huh?” I smile. “You like calling me that? Does it turn you on?”
“Yes, mister,” she smiles, running her hands across her tits. She presses them together and I chuckle to myself.
“Oh, boy,” I laugh. “I’m in for a world of trouble, aren’t I?”
“Sure are,” she says. She grabs my face and forces it in between her tits. I can feel her nipples practically poking my eyes out. Maybe I did die earlier. Maybe I died and went to heaven.
She’s not going to be dry, I think to myself. There’s just no fucking way. She’s going to be wet as a fucking whistle once she sees what I’m packing. “On second thought,” I say, “you better grab the whole bottle.”
“It’s in the room,” she smiles. “Follow me.”
“Baby, I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth and back if I have to,” I say, laughing to myself. “Tonight, you’re mine.”
“A possessive man, huh? My kind of guy,” she moans.
We sit down in the room. The outside music cuts against the wall and the bass rattles the door. I fall back against the leather booth and unbutton my suit. I feel completely relaxed for once and I’m feeling like having a good time with her.
In
a bucket of ice is champagne and vodka. “You want another drink?” she asks me, noticing I’ve taken my shots. “There’s champagne. We could celebrate.”
“Of course,” I smile and grab the bottle. “A celebration is clearly in order.” I wrap two fingers around the end of the bottle and press down hard against the cork. “Now, arch that back for me baby.”
She puts out her ass for me and I pour the whole bottle of champagne on her. “See, you’re not dry anymore. Are you?” I ask her. An arrogant smile forms on my face. I could give two shits about this girl. I just came here because I’m losing my mind in that old warehouse. I’m so fucking bored, I need anything to keep me distracted.
“Hey, you fucking asshole. Now I’m all sticky!” The woman actually slaps me. Of course, this turns me on even more than before. I laugh loudly and pick her up so she’s on my lap, dripping.
“Don’t worry, there’s an extra two hundred for you, for playing nice,” I whisper against her ear. Out of my peripheral, I can see the goose bumps form across her neck. Hard play turns this woman on. “Plus, it’s not like you weren’t going to get sticky anyway.” I kiss her neck and push her off of me.
“Okay, Daddy. Anything you want.” The way she says Daddy makes me shiver with pleasure. It’s so wrong that it feels completely right. I stand up and take off my suit jacket, getting comfortable.
“Dance for me,” I command her. She smiles and closes her eyes, feeling her perfectly sized tits. They’re fake, which isn’t really my thing, but they’ll have to do. I haven’t cum in weeks, so at this point, I’ll take what I can get.
“Good girl,” I groan. “You’re dirty. You know that?”
She opens her mouth slightly, just enough to breathe out sensually, and pushes her tits into my face. She straddles my lap and I instantly get hard. “I like being dirty,” she says.