by Lena Manta
“We don’t know that!” Anna was furious, and Magdalini looked at her in surprise.
“Do you know something and you’re not telling me, Aunt? Maybe Franco—”
Peter cut in. “Your aunt, my dear, is overanxious. You’re young and beautiful, just as he is young and handsome. Love needs soil to flower. And being older, I say, live it up, my girl!”
Magdalini approached her aunt, who was looking sadly at her. “I’m in love, Aunt,” she explained. “Franco is everything I dreamed of, and I think he feels the same. Can you understand that?”
“Much better than you think,” Anna answered bitterly.
“So, can you be happy for me?”
Anna looked tearfully at her niece. She stroked the girl’s hair gently and nodded. “I hope you’re happy with him,” she said softly. “But be careful, Magdalini. You don’t know him well yet. Don’t be in a rush.”
The next evening seemed very far off to Magdalini. The hours seemed to drag by, and her stomach was in a hard, painful knot. Franco arrived exactly on time, offering flowers to the two ladies in the house and accepting the whiskey that Peter poured for him. Anna didn’t notice anything strange in the young man’s behavior apart from the fact that he seemed very constrained toward Peter, while her husband did everything he could to impress him. The couple left after a half hour, followed immediately afterward by Peter, who said he had some business meeting to attend. He left his wife buried deep in her fear and her thoughts.
Franco had chosen a very fancy club for the evening, but Magdalini would have preferred something simpler without so many people or so much noise. Still, she didn’t say anything to Franco, who behaved perfectly toward her all night. Only when they got up to dance did his uneven breath on her hair whisper what she wanted to hear.
When Peter arrived at Bowden’s office, Bowden greeted him with a glass of whiskey in his hand.
“So, my friend, I think we’ve managed it,” Bowden announced triumphantly as soon as they sat down.
Peter nodded. “Tonight they went out together; yesterday he was waiting for her outside the house.”
“So our fish bit, then. Not that I expected anything less with bait like that.”
“Matthew, I don’t feel so good about this.”
“What nonsense! You’re not grateful to me for my plan? We’ve taken his son hostage with love. Charley doesn’t pose a threat to us anymore!”
“So the end justifies the means?”
“Would you prefer some of Giotto’s thugs riddle you with bullets?”
“And now? What do you think’s going to happen from now on?”
“Old man Giotto can’t do anything.”
“But doesn’t he know what’s happened with my niece?”
“Sure, he knows, but he’s waiting. The boy was always very casual with women. Charley thinks the girl is just like the others. But he’s lost the game. In a little while the market in Chicago will be ours and just in time. In a month a shipment’s coming and Charley won’t be able to stop us from disposing of it—he’ll be so busy with his son’s love affair.”
“Yes, but what’s going to happen to Lyn?”
“What do you think is going to happen? She’s hit the jackpot! She’s found herself a strong, very rich man who, as I understand it, she loves, and even better, he’s in love with her. She’ll have a fairy-tale life!”
“I’m not sure a story written by the Mafia is going to have much fairy-tale magic in it.”
“Why not? Look at your wife. Or mine. What they don’t know can’t hurt them, my friend. And the little one doesn’t ever need to know what sort of work her boyfriend does.”
“I’m not so sure. Anyway, I don’t want her to get hurt.”
“Peter, my friend, you’re a fool! Franco isn’t likely to hurt your niece because he’s very much in love with her. He’ll marry her very soon and she won’t believe her good luck. Listen to me because I know a thing or two. He was always busy between the best legs on the market, but he has no idea what someone as pure and untarnished as your little Lyn is like. It’s her virginal charm that will throw him into the trap and hand him over to us unarmed.”
“But doesn’t Franco know who I am?”
“Up until now, the jobs we did under Charley’s nose were small. It’s unlikely that he’s spoken to his son about little flies like us. He had people watch you mostly to know where you were, not because he was scared of you. But now, with the cargo we’re bringing in, we’re getting into a tough game. If Franco wasn’t besotted with your niece, we’d be in big trouble. But the unsuspecting Franco is powerless now, and his father’s completely boxed in. And where are we? On top! Come, have a drink, Peter! Tonight we should be celebrating!”
Franco spent every evening with Magdalini. His father didn’t appear to know anything, but in fact, he followed all his son’s movements closely, and the more he learned, the more he was confused. For the first time in his life, he didn’t know how to proceed. On the one hand, he couldn’t speak to his son, because he was afraid of the young man’s ego and he didn’t want to clash openly with him. On the other hand, the girl didn’t seem to be anything serious. And yet Franco hadn’t been to bed with her yet, which confused the old man all the more. That wasn’t his son’s way. The photographs that his people had supplied showed a girl of rare beauty. Logically, Franco should have had his fill and moved on by now. Except for dinners at expensive clubs and a little dancing, Charley’s people had nothing more to report. Franco picked her up early from the house and took her back early too, without even keeping her in his car for long.
In any case, time was running out and the old man couldn’t wait any longer. He’d speak to his son and tell him whose niece this Lyn was. There were rumors about a shipment that would arrive in a few weeks, and if Peter were allowed to distribute it undisturbed, he’d break their monopoly in the area. He had his suspicions that behind this idiot there must be some antagonist of his from the west. Someone wanted to destroy him, but he wasn’t about to allow it.
Franco parked his car outside the house and switched off the engine. This was always the most difficult moment. He had to say good night to her in the most formal way. He had to hold back his passion, to limit himself to some burning kisses, even though he wanted something else.
“Here we are,” he said sweetly to her.
“Yes, I noticed,” she answered, and something in her voice made him look at her in surprise.
“Tomorrow again?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Magdalini said in a steady voice. “For a month, you’ve been coming here every evening and taking me to expensive clubs, although I’ve been trying to tell you tactfully that I don’t like them. However big Chicago is, I can’t imagine there are any clubs left that we haven’t been to.”
“And where would you like me to take you, Lyn?” he asked with a touch of bitterness in his voice.
“Somewhere where we can talk and get closer to each other!”
“Didn’t it cross your mind that that’s exactly what I’m avoiding? Do you know how hard I have to try to control myself so as not to . . .”
“What?” Magdalini asked.
“Lyn, try to understand, sweetheart. I don’t want to scare you. But if we’re not always with people I don’t think I can control myself. I want you so much. At night I imagine you naked in my arms and I want to hit my head against the wall!”
“Why do you think I feel differently?”
Franco looked at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. He could hardly breathe. His hands reached toward her, although it was unnecessary, since her body had already moved toward his. Her perfume surrounded him like an intoxicating mist. He felt her trembling, and before he lost control, he pulled away carefully.
“Lyn, are you sure?”
She answered with a single nod of her head.
With trembling hands, he started the car and they disappeared into the night. He knew where they were going. It was a sma
ll apartment of his that nobody knew about, not even his father. They reached it quickly and went inside. Franco didn’t turn on the light. He picked his precious cargo up in his arms and headed for the bedroom. Their breath, hurried and short, was the only sound to be heard in the utter silence.
With adoration bordering on awe, he bent to kiss her. Now that his erotic dream had reached the point of becoming reality, he felt himself shaking with anticipation. His lips traveled to her pure white throat whose softness he’d dreamed of a dozen times. Her dress ended up on the floor, and her body seemed to be wrapped in its own light, which tore the darkness of the room in two. His hands moved lightly along her skin on an intoxicating voyage. Lost in a vortex he didn’t know existed, he couldn’t breathe and he felt like he didn’t even have a body. He was a shadow, a transparent cloak that covered her, unable to move away from her velvety softness.
He took her face in his hands and his eyes met hers in adoration. “I love you,” he told her as if he were swearing an oath.
“I love you too,” she answered in a voice that sounded like music.
He went to free her from his weight but she held him.
“Don’t leave,” she whispered. “This is your place. And mine is in your arms.”
Anna had reached a state of hysteria. She had waited all night for Magdalini to return. Peter tried to comfort her and bring her back to reason.
“Calm down, my sweet. I’m sure that nothing bad has happened. Unless you mean it’s bad that finally . . .”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, just think a little, my dear. They’re young and very much in love. They probably spent the night together. You shouldn’t put Lyn in a difficult position by letting her know we were aware of her absence.”
“So you don’t want me to say anything?”
“Exactly. If Lyn wants to tell you, let her do it herself.”
“Do you know what I’ve been thinking more and more recently? If I hadn’t brought Magdalini here, right now she’d probably be married to one of the village lads. She’d have children and they’d be living a peaceful life.”
“And an unbearably boring one for her,” Peter added. “If Lyn wanted something like that she wouldn’t have agreed to follow you! But she wanted something else.”
“She came here to study, not fall in love with some man we hardly know.”
“In God’s name, Anna, I don’t know why you’re objecting like this! Franco loves her. Or maybe you even doubt that?”
“No,” she admitted. “I’d be blind if I didn’t see the adoration in his eyes when he looks at her. But we don’t know anything about him. If only he was one of the young people we knew . . .”
“The heart doesn’t like to be directed, my dear, and you know that. Your niece loves Franco and it’s up to you to show some understanding.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have a choice,” his wife muttered sadly.
Magdalini stirred lightly in Franco’s arms and he woke immediately. Light sleep was necessary in the work he did.
“Did you wake up, my love?” he asked.
“Mmm . . . what time is it?”
“Nearly five.”
Magdalini jumped up as if an electric shock had passed through her. “Good Lord! I must leave. My aunt and uncle will have gone crazy with worry.”
“We’ll be at your house in twenty minutes, don’t worry. Your aunt doesn’t seem to particularly like me.”
“Don’t blame her. She loves me very much and she’s even more afraid for me.”
“I don’t blame her. I respect her and I’d like her to trust me. You know, I lost my mother when I was very young.”
Magdalini sat up and looked at him with interest. They’d been together a month now, and she hadn’t managed to persuade Franco to tell her about himself. When she asked him about his life, he would immediately change the subject, and Magdalini never persisted. Her mother had always told her that every soul is like a box with a heavy lock. There are hundreds of keys but only one opens it, and that happens when the moment is right. If you hurry, if you insist, it’s as if you’re holding an axe, and the box will break, come to pieces, disappear before you, and you’ll never learn its secrets. If you wait for it to open by itself, it will reveal its treasures to you.
“Do you remember her at all?” she dared to ask him.
“Hardly at all. She was beautiful and tender. I remember her hands holding me. I remember how safe I felt in her arms.”
“And your father? He must have suffered very much when he lost her, and so young.”
“My father, Lyn, is a hard person. He never felt anything except for the pleasure he got from bullying people around him.”
Magdalini smiled. “We have more in common than I knew. The way you describe your father—my grandfather was like that. My mother told me that she never saw him smile. He was always grim—demanding and complaining. All of us were afraid of him except my sister Julia. Only she could do what she wanted around him. To the point where the difficult old man would let her sit on his knee.”
Franco was sure that Magdalini’s grandfather was nothing like hard Charley Giotto. At worst, the old man in Greece might have killed a wild pig. Charley, on the other hand, didn’t hesitate to shoot someone who was useless to him, or even just annoying. Just like you. Franco hardly heard the little voice that whispered that last phrase to him. Since he’d fallen in love, he’d concluded that he could be two people. One would always be the Franco Lyn adored. He would do anything to make her happy. He’d give her the world if she asked for it. But the other was the opposite of the first, the dark side of Franco Giotto. Like his father, he could manage “family business” well; he could be tough and scatter death around without regrets.
Before he left her house, Franco waited to see her disappear behind the front door. Then he set off whistling. It had been the best night of his life. This creature was the best thing he could ask for in his prayers. After the magical moments she had given him, he was forever her slave. When he got home, he went into his room still whistling, and was startled to find his father waiting for him, sitting in an armchair. The smell of his cigar had filled the room, a sign that he’d been waiting a rather long time.
“What’s going on, Charley?” Franco asked. For years now, he’d been calling his father by his first name. After all, he was no longer a father, really; he was more like a colleague.
“I was waiting for you,” Charley answered drily.
“I can see that. I want to know why. You don’t usually wait for me like an anxious mother.”
“I wanted to speak to you.”
“And this conversation couldn’t wait till the morning?”
“It’s morning already. Sit down, Franco! It’s a very serious subject.”
Franco first poured himself a drink, then sat down opposite his father.
“I know that you’ve been going out with a girl for some time now. I also know she’s not one of ours.”
“Have you been following me?”
“You could call it that.”
“And since when have you cared what I do and who I do it with? Is this a delayed feeling of responsibility or paternal anxiety?”
“Neither one nor the other. I brought you up in a way that would make you capable of running the sort of business we’re in. I brought you up to take over some day. But, from what I understand, I wasn’t smart enough.”
“Charley, if you have something to say to me, say it and let’s be done with it. I want to sleep.”
“Do you know someone called Peter Carver?”
“Yes, that is . . .”
“He’s of Greek origin, a third- or fourth-generation immigrant. He married a Greek woman from his family’s village and brought her here.”
“Why are you telling me all this now? What do I care about the origins of Lyn’s aunt and uncle?”
“I’m coming to that.”
“Don’t even think about saying a word about her.”
“Well, well! What’s this I’m hearing? My son’s in love?”
“And what am I hearing from you? Do you even remember what our relationship is like? Anyway, father or not, I won’t let you interfere in my personal life.”
Franco’s eyes flashed fire, but Charley stopped him with a movement of his hand. “Calm down. The Carver family never managed to make any money. They were workers when they came to America and they stayed workers. But Peter was cleverer. When he realized that he wouldn’t get anywhere just by working, he began moving in other circles. He began with smuggling, and I must confess I underestimated him. I should have confronted him as a real rival and cleared him off the scene years ago. A year ago Peter met Matthew Bowden, and they became inseparable. They did a lot of business together and Bowden introduced him to quite a few of our boys, who backed him because he’s bringing in a big shipment of cocaine. They’re expecting it any day now.”
Franco froze like a statue, unable to believe what he was hearing. “Are you saying that Peter has joined the Mafia?”
“And without my approval, of course. What do you say to that?”
“Unbelievable!”
“But there’s more to it. That fox Bowden realized that I wouldn’t just be sitting there with my arms crossed. Peter had already noticed that my people were following him so he got himself some hired guns to protect him, his wife, and your precious beloved. But his friend thought, and correctly, that if I wanted to get rid of Peter, a few heavyweight idiots wouldn’t stop me. So he decided to do something that would relieve him forever of the danger I represented: he arranged for you to be at his house on New Year’s Eve.”
“Wait! Where are you going with this? Do you mean to tell me that Lyn—”
“The girl, unwittingly, was the bait he threw to you, and you were hooked like a trout! Do you finally get it? With you in love with your Greek beauty, I wouldn’t do anything, in case I fell out with you.”
Franco emptied his glass in one gulp, then refilled it. His head was ready to burst. “Does she know?” was all he asked, holding his breath until the answer came.