by Lesia Reid
“What the devil is he doing?” Antonio said.
“I’ll check,” Tommy replied.
“No,” Antonio said. “He’ll think his antics will bring him results.”
For Joey, the antics did bring him results. The coffee table had toppled with the television and was broken. He stepped gingerly through the splintered pieces and picked up a manageable piece of wood. He measured it against his jeans and put it inside his pants, keeping if firmly in place by adjusting his belt.
Still, hours away on a private Boeing business jet, Deana was getting ready to recount the horrible events that led her to south Florida. “Tell me everything,” Sebastian said.
“It’s so horrible,” Deana said. “I pray to spare Joey from the horrors of his father. I shouldn’t have sent him to that stupid camp.”
“Deana, it’s not your fault and you cannot protect him forever. For him to have a good life you have to let him experience a lot on his own. Joey’s a strong boy, very much like his mother and this will make him stronger. What am I to expect?”
“Sebastian, I don’t want you involved. Antonio can be dangerous. When we get to New York, I will take care of everything.”
“Deana, from the first day I looked at you in that diner I was involved. You’re not alone and Joey is going to need both of us. Tell me everything.”
“My name was Mia DiMarinetti. I change my name legally after all that happened to me. There’s a group in New York that saved me and they helped me to get out and away from Tony. My mother married Tony’s father when I was thirteen, Donato Pacelli. Tony was eighteen at the time. He was trouble from the start. When Mama moved in with them, I was apprehensive, but she had been alone so long and Donato made her happy. In the first month, Tony tried to get into my room twice. I took my allowance and bought extra locks for my door. I had to buy those ugly black bolts and cover them because mama didn’t quite believe me, plus, she never wanted a girl so Tony was her son.
“I was good friends with Luigi; he was one of Tony’s friends. He would walk me home from school and stay at the house until someone else got home because I was afraid of Tony. He had a bad reputation then. He was a bully and had given both women and men black eyes. Donato couldn’t mange him, and Mama, Tony loved her and she was loyal to him. I think Mama was the only person Tony ever loved. Just after my fifteenth birthday, Tony told Luigi to stop interfering with me. Luigi brushed him off at first, then Tony and his gang beat him to a pulp. Luigi never told a soul but I knew.
“Anyway, I was safe as long as Donato was home. Then he and Mama went away on a trip. They left me with the servants and Tony. I was scared for my life. For the first three days I didn’t even leave my room. Not for food, not for school, not for anything. Tony would knock at my door, and go ‘come out, come out wherever you are’. It was horrible. I would bar my door with a chair and pray he would go away. On the fourth day he tricked me. I watched from my bedroom window until he left, then I sneaked down to the kitchen to get food. I was starving. His friend Tommy was waiting for me in the kitchen.” Her voice faltered and she paused to gather herself. She couldn’t shed tears now for that night. It had taken her out of New York, away from the threat, and even though it always loomed in the front of her mind, she had in the past nine years been better off than hiding behind her stepfather who could not control his son.
“He grabbed me from behind and yelled for Tony. I fought with all my might, but I was weak. I hadn’t had anything but tap water in three days. Tony had dismissed the servants. I didn’t even know this. I fought with Tommy and just when I thought I made it out, Tony came through the back door of the kitchen. Tony was not a skinny kid. He was bench-pressing almost two hundred pounds at twenty. He grabbed me by my hair and dragged me to the living room. I fought him, I cursed him, I did everything I could but it was no use.
“When he ripped my clothes off, I knew it was over. We lived in upstate New York, one mile away from the nearest house, with nobody to help. I’d never been more scared or terrified in my life. When it was over, Tony laughed at me. He spit at me and called me his little puttana. For three days all my body knew was what Tony did to it. And it wasn’t just the sex. He got a kick from punching me; slapping my face and seeing it go red. When Mama and Donato came back, Tony told them I was having a party and some guy had knocked me up good and he came back in time to save me. I told my mother he was a liar it was Tony who did this to me. I can still feel the sting of her palm across my cheek. She cursed me that I was a worthless liar like my father.
“Donato helped me. He got the towels. Covered me, ran my bath and put me in it. I will forever be grateful to him for that. I never went to the hospital; my mother never believed that I was raped. I believe even Donato was afraid of Tony by this. He had his gang of six or seven boys who would do anything he said. I never bolted my door again. I slept with an eight-inch blade under my pillow. I prayed Tony would come back to bother me. I swore I would kill him. But he never came.
“I missed my period for three months, but that was not unusual. I lived in constant stress so my cycle was always out of whack. But I bought the home pregnancy test anyway, because I was feeling nauseous and I had symptoms of the flu without the flu. The test was positive. I bought maybe ten different types; they all returned the same result. I was stupid; I wanted Mama to believe me, to know I was not la baldracca. So I told her when the baby was born I would have it tested and prove it was Tony’s and that he raped me. I was still a minor—it would work. Two days later, Donato wasn’t home, and I don’t know where Mama was when it started. I suspect she was there, but Tony and his boys came. I was in my room when they stormed in.
“I was no match for the six of them, but Tony paid. I stabbed him in the crotch. I wanted him to hurt like he did to me. I would have stabbed him again except they were all trying to get at me. I slashed, I stabbed and I don’t know who got hit from who didn’t. My mom came in the room because Tony was screaming. The boys were running out, they didn’t know Mama only cared about Tony. She pulled him out of the room. He was screaming and threatening to kill me, she was threatening to kill me. I had enough. I didn’t want my child to grow up like this, and I couldn’t have an abortion, it was not his fault what happened to me.
“So while Mama rushed Tony to the hospital, I stole her jewelry. I stole every penny from Tony’s room and he had a lot of money, a couple thousand maybe. I don’t know how he and his gang got their money, but he always had a lot of money. I emptied Donato’s safe, grabbed a backpack with a few clothes and took off. I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid the police would come and get me. I was afraid Mama or Donato would find me. The only person I was ever close to was Luigi. He sent me to the people who could help me because he didn’t want to get involved.
“I had to lose my identity if I was to stay at the safe house. I was four months pregnant and no one knew what to do with me. On top of that, no one had reported to the police exactly what happened to Tony. Some of the people in the safe house knew him by reputation. I was doomed. I lived in a safe house in New York until Joey was born. I had nowhere to run to and what money I had I couldn’t waste it trying to get housing and a job in a different city. I couldn’t work in New York, but Luigi would get money or word to me of what was happening. As long as I could track Tony, I was relatively safe.
“Then one night I was supposed to meet Luigi. I always went maybe half an hour before and let him wait another half hour in case Tony knew. Luigi never showed up, but Tommy did. I got back to the safe house, took Joey and that’s the last I saw of New York. I’ve been looking behind my back since. Sometimes I think I should have just had an abortion and not told anyone. But I would be stuck in New York or dead by now. Then I should have had the abortion and run on my own, but I wouldn’t have been this far. Joey saved me. The Deana you know was created by one little boy who has no idea how much he has given me or how he came to have a mother so young.”
Sebastian allowed her to finish without
interrupting. It hurt him to hear this story. To hear how horrible the monster who fathered her child had treated her. Yet, as he sat listening, hugging her, he was certain of one thing—he loved this woman. He loved her with every fiber of his being. He loved her for loving a child spawned from the most brutal situation a woman could endure.
“Oh God, Deana,” Sebastian said. Then he remembered the first time he’d kissed her, that fleeting moment of fear. “You must have thought I was a brute that first evening at my house.”
“For a second,” she said. “But if I allow the thought of Tony to control every spontaneous moment of my life, it wouldn’t be my life, it would be his. I never forgot about him, but I had to move on for Joey’s sake.”
“I love you, and we will find Joey.”
“I know.”
Chapter 17
As the jet raced towards New York, a little boy in a white room prepared for his first confrontation with his father. Tony had allowed almost an hour to pass after the last big crash in the room. He was confident the boy was out of steam now. Like his mother, the anger and strength flowed only a few minutes, then they were quiet once they knew there was no escaping him. He gingerly opened the door. The boy was standing in the middle of the bed, his hand behind him. It hurt Tony to see this defiance, this disrespect of personal property. Like his mother, Tony thought again.
The paintings on the wall were bashed in, the television and the coffee table lay broken on the floor. The wind whipped the curtains through a broken window, and the boy stood in dirty sneakers on the perfect white linens on the bed. He was going to enjoy bending him to his will. He will make a proper Pacelli out of him, just as he had bent and broken his mother.
The bashing of the paintings stirred anger in him, anger he struggled to hold in check. They were Mia’s painting. At thirteen, she’d been a good artist, though Simone strongly disagreed. It was the paintings that first drew him to her. They were too bright, too colorful and painfully real. It was as if she captured the essence of the subject in her brush and laid it on canvas. It was, the truth be told, the painting of Luigi that was the final straw.
After their adventure together, he’d never think of it as rape, she’d painted more passionately than before. The colors were still bold, but the subjects went beyond their essence, it was like a new dimension. These were masterpieces, and he’d sold a couple over the last nine years at astonishingly high prices. Of course, they were all signed by him.
After she’d stabbed him, he spent many nights cursing her while looking at the paintings. It was his doctor on call who’d set up the first purchase. After that, he’d cursed how ungrateful she was. He’d taken her mediocre skills and perfected it.
“Hello, Joey,” Tony said in a low voice. “Let me introduce myself. I am Antonio Pacelli. I am your father.”
The boy didn’t answer. He gazed out at him from long dark lashes. Yes, there was more of the mother in the boy, Tony thought. Nonetheless, she was always a looker. This was not a set back. He might even enjoy Mia’s face doing the deeds he intended to make this boy do. Calling him daddy, he could picture Mia doing just that. It would be a rush.
“Didn’t la puttana teach you how to behave? You have ruined this beautiful room.”
“You are not my father,” Joey replied.
“I can’t say I wish I wasn’t, after all, I had fun with your mother. Poor little Mia!”
“My name is Joey Lang. My mother is Deana Lang. She will find me, and she will kick your ass.”
“Really?” Tony said. “She couldn’t kick my ass nine years ago. I would love her to try now. The lessons I would teach her. And there is no Donato to rescue her.”
Joey’s grip tightened on the piece of wood behind his back as Tony walked towards him. He wanted him just to look away for one minute, just one minute. Tony was staring at the boy. He may look like his mother, but the temper, the reddening in anger was all Tony.
“Merda!” Tony cursed as the glass from the television crunched under his feet. That gave Joey the precious few seconds he needed. He held the piece of wood in both hands and jumped towards Tony. He had done this on his video games so many times he didn’t have to think about it. He didn’t want to think about as the wood came crashing down on Tony’s head. Man and boy fell to the ground. Joey was on top of Tony, hitting as hard as his hands would allow him. Flight was not in his head until he heard footsteps coming on the stairs. The blood was pumping in his ears. He ran for the door. The man who had grabbed him at summer camp was bounding up the stairs. Joey ran the other way and into the next room before the man could see him. He heard Antonio screaming in pain. Both men were in the room. He ran for the stairs. He had to get out.
He was half the way down when the man started after him. He ran. Another man came from the hallway, but he was slow and Joey was making it to the only door he saw. He yanked the door open and ran out the door. His feet almost got tangled in the clothes he had thrown through the window, but he didn’t fall. He could hear them behind him and the one called Antonio was shouting.
He had no idea where he was going, but he followed the driveway, switching from asphalt to turf to asphalt, keep always in a straight line. Sebastian told him when they were in Colorado Springs that it was the shortest distance between two points. That’s why he’d talked about the bridge to Cripple Creek. Now he ran as fast as his almost nine-year-old legs could carry him. His chest was tightening, but the pain was nothing, he was still ahead of them. He ran until he couldn’t hear them anymore.
“He’s eight years old!” Antonio shouted. “How could you lose him? One of your strides is three of his.”
“He can’t go very far,” Tommy said. “The gates are closed.”
“That’s what you said about his mother and it took you more than nine years to find her. I want him here now, and not a scratch on him, okay? Not one single scratch or I’ll have your neck!”
Joey cut his leg getting over the gates. It was not easy. The steel deco was tall and his legs could not fit properly in the slots. A cut was nothing. He knew the man was a bad man. Why had he kidnapped him in the first place? If he was really his father why hadn’t he just asked his mother to see him? And why did he call his mother la puttana? And his mom would have talked about him if he was a good man. His mother was the best person in the whole world, and she wouldn’t have kept him from his father, unless he was a bad man. I’m only eight, he thought, what do I really know?
“Almost nine,” he said aloud because he needed to know he was alive and not stuck in one of his video games.
He had hidden in the bushes until he was sure the coast was clear, then he high-tailed it over the gate.
He ran out of steam and breath ten minutes later. He was staying as far away from the road as possible. In the mystery books his mom read to him at nights, the hunted always stayed away from the road. They followed it as a guide, but they stayed away from it.
He didn’t know where to go. He didn’t know anybody in New York. He had never been in New York, he was only born here and his mother never spoke about New York. Trevor, he thought. Aunt Thelma had a sister who lived in New York. That’s how Trevor had seen snow for the first time. But Joey didn’t have any money, and he didn’t know how much it cost to call Aunt Thelma from here. He kept as much as possible behind the trees and kept a half jog half walk pace.
The jet touched down in New York’s La Guardia airport three hours after taking off from Fort Lauderdale. Deana was fatigued but ready for this round. It was Sebastian who held her back. It was Sebastian who suggested they waited a night and analyze their options before charging in.
“No,” Deana said. “Tony is a monster and the longer he has Joey, the more I fear for him.”
“I know he’s a monster,” Sebastian said as they sat in the back of his company’s limousine. “But if he wanted to hurt Joey, he wouldn’t have taken him to New York for that. If he really wanted both of you out of his life, he wouldn’t have kept searching for
nine years. There is something driving this man.”
“Hate,” Deana said. “He’s a man who likes to possessive everything and anything he cannot possess he breaks. I don’t want my son with him for one minute more.”
“Deana, we have to think about this logically. I know you hate Tony, and god knows I hate him more than you do at this point, but you are a thinking woman. What do you know about this man? Forget about the hurt, forget about nine years ago. You lived with him for two years in fear. You know a lot about him whether you realize it or not. Do you think he’s going to hand Joey over if you walk into his house and demand him back? Think.”
“I can’t, not while he has my child.”
“But you’ve thought everything else through. You knew he had Luigi followed. You were wise to stake about before meeting Luigi. What would Deana sixteen and scared to death of Tony do?”
“I don’t know anything about him,” Deana insisted.
“Your mother, what if she’s there too? That’s two formidable opponents. What kind of business man is Tony? What connections does he have? Please honey, let’s not rush in. You still have the element of surprise. He does not know you are here. If he had to resort to kidnapping a boy, then his reach might not be as far as you think. When you were fifteen, everything was a bit grander then. If he’s looking for you, it will be through flight logs, not through Torrance private flights.”