by B. B. Hamel
I should’ve left her at my father’s place, but she insisted on coming. And we’d been through so much already that I just couldn’t leave her behind.
Besides, this was as much for her as it was for me.
“You ready for this?” I said, my voice soft.
“I’m ready,” Dante said, turning his gaze toward me. “I’m always ready.”
I snorted. “You didn’t seem ready before.”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
I shook my head and leaned forward in my seat, trying to get comfortable.
“I get that I’ve been away,” I said. “But it doesn’t change the fact that one of your own got attacked.”
“We worked hard to set shit up with the Jalisco,” Dante said. “Then you come rolling back into town and start talking about starting a war. We didn’t want to go down that road, not yet at least.”
“I get it,” I said. “Hang me out to dry.”
Dante opened his mouth then shut it again. He let out a breath, wiped at his face.
“All right,” he said. “Look, I fucked up, okay? I never should have pushed back. You’re right.”
I looked at him, trying to suppress my surprise. “Big of you to say now,” I said. “Right before we go hunting.”
“It’s the fucking truth,” Dante said. “I didn’t want to get tangled up in this shit. We just got over our own war, just finished beating up on the Russians. I lost Gino, you know that?”
“I know,” I said. “And I’m sorry about him. I really am.”
“Yeah, well. That’s why I hesitated. It was stupid and selfish, but here we are.”
I watched Dante for a second, trying to read his face, and just shook my head, turning my gaze back to the street in front of us.
“We’ll put it behind us,” I said.
“Good.” He slipped his own Glock from his shoulder holster and checked the magazine. “It’s almost time.”
I nodded and looked down the block. A house sat in the shadows of a broken street light, bathed in darkness. It was just after midnight on a quiet residential neighborhood in North Philly. Half the houses were boarded up and rubble and trash were strewn about the sidewalks. It was one of the worst neighborhoods in the whole city, the section of the city that the world had forgotten about.
And it was where the Jalisco set up their main headquarters.
They thought it was a secret, or at least that was the idea. Set up shop in a place where we’d never find them. But secrets don’t stay secrets for long, and a local gang, just a group of teenage kids that steal cellphones and hack people’s laptops to steal their Twitter accounts, saw a bunch of Hispanic guys rolling around this area. Didn’t take us long to find out which house they were coming and going from and to make the connection.
All across the city, crews were set up and ready. The Jalisco had their fingers all over the place, in businesses and in houses, little rat nests of the bastards. We were going to flush out as many as we could, kill everyone we found, and steal everything we could get our hands on. The idea was to hit them hard, hit them fast, and let them know that the city wasn’t safe for them anymore.
I looked into the back seat. Mona sat up straight, tugging at her long, dark hair. I nodded at her and she managed a little smile that barely touched her eyes, like she wasn’t sure if she was happy or about to scream.
“It’ll be fine,” I said. “You’re going to hear some stuff. Just keep your head down and wait for us to come back.”
“Okay,” she said.
“Keep the engine running,” I said. “We’ll probably need it.”
“Right, I can do that.” She stopped playing with her hair. “You’ll be careful, right?”
“As careful as I can be,” I said.
“It’s time,” Dante said.
She took a sharp breath. I nodded to her, let my gaze linger on her eyes, then stepped out of the car. Dante got out the other side, and together we walked down the block.
Three guys came toward us. They were Dante’s boys, Ryan, Chad, and Cosimo. They looked like solid fighters, the sort of guys I wanted at my back. The target house was silent, the lights all out, and nothing moved in the neighborhood.
It was the kind of place that knew the sound of gunshots, and knew how to keep their mouths shut.
The young guy, Ryan, reached the door first. He gestured at the door with his gun then pressed the barrel just above the knob. He pulled the trigger twice, two loud cracks in the night, then stepped back as I slammed the heel of my boot into the door right where he shot.
The door burst open in a spray of wood. Chad and Cosimo went in first, followed by Dante. I went in next, and Ryan stuck by the door, watching our backs.
We rushed into a dark entryway. There was a set of stairs, pitch black, to the left. Ahead was another larger room, but the whole place was dark.
“Fucking lights,” Dante said.
I found a switch and hit them.
We stood on a hardwood floor, scratched and dented and faded. The wallpaper was yellowed and curling in spots, and the place smelled like smoke. I heard something up ahead, a noise, a grunt.
“Down!” I yelled.
Dante and the others dropped just as gunshots burst out from the room ahead. It was deafening, and I clenched my jaw. I returned fire, rolling to the side until I reached the steps. I threw myself onto them as Dante moved backwards, firing down the hall. They reached the stairs, and Dante managed to get up on them, but Chad took a bullet to the back as he tried to get up. He staggered, blood spurting from the wound, and gasped as he fell to the floor.
I went upstairs, gun out. There was a door on the left, a door on the right, and a door at the end of the hall. I kicked open the first, found a guy in a dirty tank top sitting up in bed, shot him in the head. His skull smashed back and he fell down bloody. I hurried into the room, found empty pizza boxes and a mattress on the floor, an old Dell laptop shoved in the corner between the wall and the comforter. I cleared it, moved on, just as Dante kicked open the next door.
He fired his gun and more screams rang out. I came in the room behind him to find two dead men, both of them going for guns. The room was a mess, clothes thrown all over, beer bottles scattered, cigarettes piled in an ashtray.
Cosimo fired a few rounds down the steps. “They’re coming up!” he yelled.
I moved out, went to the last door, kicked it open. The room was empty, though just as filthy as the others. Two twin mattresses were on the floor, clothes were all over, and a TV was shoved against the wall.
“Clear,” I said as Dante came toward me. “You go help Cosimo, I’ll take the third floor.”
Cosimo fired a few more rounds and bullets tore up the staircase. There was shouting downstairs as more gunshots rang out.
“Ryan!” Dante yelled.
“They’re falling back,” Cosimo said.
“Go,” I shouted at Dante. “Get them. I’ll go up.”
Dante jumped down the steps, took them two as a time. I saw Cosimo follow, caught a glimpse of Ryan in the front door firing down the hall.
Downstairs exploded in gunshots as I hurried up the steps. I found another similar hallway, two doors and a third at the end. I cleared the first room, another empty, filthy hovel with a single bed and pile of broken cellphones in the corner. I went to the next door, tried the handle, but it was locked.
I threw myself sideways just as someone shot through the thin wooden door. I grunted, returned fire, then kicked it open and threw myself to the side again. More gunshots rang out and I managed to look around the corner.
It was the master bedroom, the largest room so far. It was cleaner than the others, with a bed on an actual frame, a desk against the far wall, clothes stacked neatly on the floor. A man crouched down behind the bed, firing at me from a revolver. I counted his shots, my jaw clenched. I had four bullets left in my magazine, so I held off, let him empty his chamber.
When I heard a click, I ran into the room.
“Drop it,” I shouted.
The man was in the process of reloading. He stared up at me, his eyes wide and wild.
I stared back at Santos, my heart racing.
“Drop the gun,” I said, my voice lower. My ears rang from the booming gunshots, but my hands were steady as sweat rolled down my back.
Santos didn’t move. He held the gun still, the chamber opened, a single bullet placed inside. He looked down at the gun then back up to me.
“Don’t,” I said. “You’re worth more alive.”
“You got nothing,” he said. “You’re just as empty as I am.”
“Don’t do it,” I said.
He clenched his jaw. He lifted the gun and swung the chamber back inside the gun, snapping it shut.
I fired before he could even aim his weapon. My bullet tore through his skull, knocking him back. I followed up with another shot to his chest then kicked the gun from his lifeless hand.
Santos’s empty, dead eyes stared up at me from the floor as blood pooled around his skull.
“Stupid fuck,” I said and reloaded my gun, slipping the spent magazine into my back pocket, and shoving the spare home.
I turned from the bedroom and was about to leave when a laptop caught my eyes. It was on the middle of the bed, a nice new Apple MacBook with the shiny silver metal case. I grabbed it, not sure why, then hurried back downstairs.
The gunshots had quieted. I heard talking as I went down to the main floor. The floor was slick with blood and I found Ryan, Dante, and Cosimo in the living room standing over the dead bodies of three Jalisco soldiers.
The room was a mess of jumbled furniture, marked and scratched walls, and empty beer bottles and cans. The TV was a nice new flat screen with a nice gaming system underneath it, and it looked like they were playing Mario Kart before we showed up. I shook my head and met Dante’s eye.
“Anything good?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “Just some cash.”
“Take it,” I said.
“What’s that?” He nodded at the computer.
“MacBook,” I said. “Santos was upstairs.”
“Fuck,” Dante said, his eyes wide. “No shit?”
“No shit,” I said. “He’s dead now. Couldn’t help himself.”
“That’s his computer then?”
“I hope so.” I looked around the room for a bag, found one under the sink. I tossed the laptop inside, helped them gather up the scattered bundles of fifties, twenties, and hundreds, and shoved them inside. When we were done, we hurried back into the main room.
Ryan knelt down next to Chad, checked his pulse, shook his head.
“Dead,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” I said and put a hand on Dante’s shoulder.
“He was a good kid,” Dante said. “Come on. We have to go before the cops come.”
“We’re leaving him?” Ryan asked.
“No choice,” I said. “We’ll get him back eventually. The cops will make sure of that.”
Ryan clenched his jaw but nodded.
We filed out of the house. Ryan and Cosimo turned right, and I turned left with Dante. We walked fast back toward the car.
I tossed the bag into the back seat. Mona stared at it on her lap then looked up at us with wide, scared eyes as I got behind the wheel.
“It’s done?” she asked.
“Done,” I said. “They’re all dead. We lost one.”
“Shit,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
Dante stared straight ahead and said nothing.
I felt bad for him. He lost a guy, one of his own crew, and that was always hard. As the Capo, it was his job to make sure his guys were safe, and this wasn’t even a job he wanted to do.
But this shit happened in our line of work. One day, that dead body would be mine, I knew it just as well as anyone.
I pulled the car forward and sped off, the wheels leaving tire tracks on the road.
I dropped Dante off back at his place. He lingered just outside the car then leaned in the open window.
“No hard feelings,” he said.
“None,” I said. “And I really am sorry about Chad.”
“We’ll make sure his family’s taken care of,” he said. “That’s the least we can do.”
“Good,” I said.
Dante met my eye and I saw a hint of my old friend in there. But he was buried by the past, by the loss and the anger that haunted him. I knew we’d never have that old relationship back, and it wasn’t fair of me to expect it.
I nodded to him, and hoped he understood that things were good between us.
He nodded back and walked off.
Mona got out and came up front. She shut the door and leaned toward me, biting her lip hard.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I’m okay,” I said. “That went better than expected.”
“We should go find out how all the others did,” she said.
I nodded. “But first, I have to make a call.” I put the car in gear and drove for a little while, weaving through the city, until I parked again near my father’s house. There were a lot of cars on his block, and I saw Roberto standing out front, guarding the entrance. I guessed a lot of the crews were done and reporting in already.
I took out my phone and dialed.
Diego answered on the third ring.
“Yeah?” he said.
“Diego, it’s me,” I said. “We made our move.”
Silence from him for a full five seconds. “And?” he asked.
“Santos is dead,” I said. “Killed him myself. I’m not sure how the others did, but I think we cut the head off the snake.”
“Goddamn,” he said, his voice full of whispered awe. “I didn’t expect this.”
“They blew up my fucking house,” I said. “That’s not something I can forgive.”
“What now?” he asked.
“Now you bring your crew down here and start making money. And Diego, if you’re fucking smart, we can have a long and healthy relationship.”
“That’s the plan,” he said. “See you soon then.”
“See you soon.” I hung up the phone.
Mona leaned toward me and reached out. Her hand seemed to hang in the air as she brushed her fingers against my cheek. I grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer, kissing her like I’d never tasted her before.
“Fuck,” she whispered. “I was so scared. Do you have any idea how scared I was?”
“I can guess,” I said. “But it’s over now.”
“Is it always like this?” she asked. “Are you always so afraid?”
“No,” I said. “No, only when shit goes really bad. But I think things are going to turn around now.”
“Yeah.” She took a deep breath. “I think you’re right.”
I stared into her eyes, into her gorgeous, dark eyes, and kissed her again. I tasted her lips, breathed in her scent, gripped her hair. She pulled back with a sigh and stared into my eyes.
“I don’t want you to go,” I said. “I don’t want you to go back to your old life.”
“I don’t want you to go back to New York.”
“You know I love you, right?” I asked. “I won’t leave if you don’t want me to. Someone else can run my crew.”
“Vince,” she whispered, eyes wide.
“I mean it,” I said. “I’ll give it up for you, if you ask. After all this, I know what’s important, I know what I really want.”
“I can’t ask anything from you,” she said. “I wouldn’t let myself.”
“Do it anyway.” I leaned close, pressed my forehead against hers. She let out a little groan and I kissed her, gentle and fast. “Ask it of me.”
“Stay,” she whispered.
“Okay.” I kissed her. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
We stayed like that for a long moment, feeling each other. I listened to her quick breaths and felt my world shift beneath me, but I wanted it, I needed it. I
’d been drifting loose and unmoored, lost in a sea of violence and depravity, but I finally found the island I’d been searching for.
I found my Mona, in a sea of nothing but anger and fear.
“Come on,” I said, kissed her one more time, and moved away. “Let’s go inside. We’ll figure out what we’re going to do tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” she said. “Yeah, we’ll figure it all out tomorrow.”
I opened the door and got out. I went around the car, helped her out. I grabbed the sack of money and the laptop from the back seat. And together, we walked to my father’s front door.
Roberto dipped his head and let us walk in together, holding hands, bodies close, feeling more alive than I’d ever felt before.
I had my Mona, I had my future. I wasn’t just some mafioso with no reason to live aside from money and chasing women. I had a reason for existence, I had my girl, I had my love.
For the first time, it was easy to look ahead, easy to think about the future.
25
Mona
Three Months Later
I typed THE END and stared at my screen for a long time. I felt like I’d been waiting for this moment my whole life, and now that it was here, now that the words had left my fingers and were down on the page, smattered in black screen ink, I felt like…
Well, like nothing.
I leaned back in my chair and took a deep breath. I heard the floorboards down the hall creak and I knew it was Vince waking up and trying to be quiet. We were sequestered in a small apartment in the far end of his father’s expansive mansion, our own little set of rooms tucked away from the rest of the house.
It wasn’t as opulent as the rest of the place. The floors were original bare wood, the walls were freshly painted in beiges and simple whites. The decorations were minimal, though still expensive. We had a kitchen, a little living room, a single bedroom, and an office tucked up in the attic, a sweltering little cubbyhole with a window AC unit that dripped water on the outside of the house and was way too loud.
I hit save, backed the file up to my Dropbox, and closed the lid of my computer. It was just before six in the morning and I’d been up writing for almost an hour already, trying to get my words in for the day before Vince woke up. The room wasn’t too steamy, not yet at least. I stood up and stretched, my fingertips brushing the low ceiling. A little couch was pressed up against the wall a few feet away opposite a simple stereo system, and I’d spent a lot of time over the last few months lying on that couch, listening to music, trying to get my thoughts in order.