Made Man Dante

by Liliana Rhodes

  “Sister—” I said before she interrupted me with a giggle.

  Her face lit up as she laughed and her whole body shook pleasantly. Even her gentle brown eyes crinkled as she laughed. I couldn’t help but smile myself and took a seat next to her. For a moment, I was lost in the scent of orange blossoms that surrounded her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, holding back her laugher. “It’s been a long day. I don’t even know most of these people here, you included.”

  “My apologies, Sister. I’m Dante.”

  “Hello, Dante. I’m Gia,” she said as she held out her hand for me to shake.

  I took her small, fragile hand and held it. Her hand was filled with a warmth and life unlike I ever felt before. It took all my willpower to force myself to let go of her hand.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sister.”

  “Oh, please stop,” she said with a big smile showing me her perfect teeth. “There’s only one person here who can call me sister, and that’s my brother Terry.”

  I was confused and wanted to press further. Mostly I wanted to hear her voice more, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t my place to be there. I was a Soldier. I had to return to my post.

  “I’m sorry about your loss,” I said. “Will you be staying here long?”

  She shrugged and looked confused as if she didn’t know the answer to my question. Sadness covered her face once more, and I vowed I would never do anything to be the cause of that look.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Geez, it seems all I do is apologize to you.” She forced a smile as she blinked back tears. “I promised my mother she would be buried with her favorite rosary beads, and she wasn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  She swallowed hard as she looked down at her hands folded on her lap. I couldn’t help myself, I placed my hand over hers. She had the softest skin, and that made me want her more.

  “My brother sold them. He thought they might be worth something. They’re gone.”

  She broke down in tears and I pulled her against me. Scanning the room, I found Terry. Luckily he was more afraid of what was waiting outside the house than of me.

  I stroked her back softly as she regained her composure, then excused myself. Terry kept trying to dodge me, but I knew the house. As he went through one doorway, I turned through another and cornered him.

  “Now, Terry,” I said slowly, making sure he understood. “You did a very bad thing when you sold your mother’s rosary. Look at your sister’s face.” I grabbed his face and squeezed it as I turned him to look at Gia. “Bad enough she lost her mother, but you lost the rosary.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, trying to speak. “I didn’t know it meant anything.”

  “You’re going to get it back.”

  “I can’t! I don’t know where it is. It could be anywhere.”

  “Terry,” I said and squeezed his jaw harder, making him whimper. “You and I both know it’s not valuable to anyone else. Go back to the pawn shop or wherever you brought it and buy it back.”

  “But—”

  “Now, Terry.” I jerked his head around towards Gia again. “And if you make her look that unhappy again, you’ll be guaranteed another visit from me–my last visit.” I let go of his face and he nodded. “Go!”

  Terry ran out of the house faster than I’d ever seen him move. I wanted to return to Gia, to give her my condolences once more so I could be near her and smell the orange blossoms, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t my place to pretend or socialize.

  My place was across the street in the tiny excuse for an apartment. My place was at the window watching. Seeing, but not being seen. Despite my many attempts to get away from it, my place was that of a killer.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Gia

  The funeral and everything in the past few days had been a blur. Even Terry was a blur. I knew he was avoiding me, and he had every reason to. The little I could get out of him about the trouble he said he was in, I had no idea how it would get fixed.

  The day of the funeral was typical. My brothers and sisters, along with many other people, came back to the house afterwards to pay their respects, and some shared a fond memory or two of Momma. It was nice to hear their stories and made me feel close to her once again. But all of that washed away when the tall, gorgeous man entered the living room.

  “He’s a Gambino,” Terry whispered into my ear before hightailing it into the kitchen.

  A Gambino? I thought. Everyone knew the Gambino family. They were one of the oldest, most respected, and wealthiest families in Brooklyn. And they were Mafia. At least if one was to believe the rumors.

  But being a Gambino didn’t mean they were a Gambino, no different than being Catholic didn’t make someone the pope. I remembered hearing at one point that some of my older brothers were Gambinos, too. People said things all the time, that didn’t make them true.

  Terry had been more than paranoid and crazy the past few days. I didn’t believe most of what he said anymore. And whether this man standing in the doorway and parting the crowd as he entered the room was a Gambino or not didn’t matter to me. Momma knew and loved everyone in the neighborhood. It wouldn’t surprise me if some of them were made men.

  Truth was none of that was on my mind. This man had eyes as blue as the ocean. His dark hair was short and tousled, yet swept off his forehead. Wearing slacks and a buttoned shirt that fit his broad shoulders perfectly, my mind began to wonder what he looked like without it.

  Stifling a giggle as he approached, I felt like a little girl. When he sat next to me, I had to resist the urge to touch the shadow of a beard on his face. When I looked into his eyes, I was surprised I didn’t turn into a puddle. They had such an intensity and he was so hot that I couldn’t help but embarrass myself.

  I hadn’t been near a man in so long, and seeing one that made my heart and body react so strongly made me act foolishly like a child. I couldn’t contain my laughter and later my tears. It was no wonder he left so abruptly. But it didn’t matter to me. Even if I never saw him again, I’d never forget the jolt his touch gave me or the way he said my name.

  Later that evening after everyone left, I found Terry standing in Momma’s bedroom looking lost. He was obviously taking her death hard, and I felt bad for being so hard on him.

  “Terry?” I said. “You okay?”

  With a forlorn look on his face, he turned to me. His jaw had the dark marks of a fresh bruise, but his swollen eye was what really caught my attention. “I’m sorry, Gia. I didn’t think the rosary beads meant anything to you.”

  “What happened to your face?” I grabbed his arm and pulled him into the kitchen. “Sit,” I commanded as I pointed to an old metal-framed stool with a glossy red seat cover.

  “Nothing happened. I fell.”

  I knew he was lying, but I didn’t push. Grabbing a paper towel, I loaded it with ice and twisted it closed before gently pressing it to Terry’s eye.

  “What happened to you, Terry? I used to look up to you when I was little. And now look at you.”

  “I know, Gia. Trust me, I know. Everything just spiraled out of control after Gabby. I lost so much and I did something stupid, thinking it was an easy way to get some of it back.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I got mixed up with the wrong people. I thought it was an easy way to turn a buck fast. I don’t know what I was thinking. All I needed to do was sell the drugs and give them the profits, but I got greedy. I thought I could sell them to someone else at a higher price, then buy some lower quality shit and sell that to the contact. I was stupid. I didn’t realize he would recognize the difference between what was promised him and what I offered him.”

  “I can’t believe you, Terry! Really? Drugs?! Why would you even do such a thing?”

  “Please, Gia. You think I’m proud of this? They’re after me now. They want the money from the sale.”

  “Then give it to them!”

  “I don’t have it. I told
you I sold the drugs and bought the other shit. I didn’t have as much left as I thought, and I wanted to increase it. I lost the rest gambling. The Lords of Vengeance don’t care about that. They just want their stuff back and if not the drugs, they want the money.”

  “The Lords of Vengeance? You mean that street gang that’s been in the news?”

  He nodded. “I did things I wasn’t proud of, Gia. I’ve been trying to make it better since.”

  As he pulled something out of his shirt pocket, I realized it was Momma’s favorite rosary beads. I wanted to keep hating him, but seeing he got them back for me made me believe there was still hope for my brother. Maybe he really would fix things between him and the gang.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, feeling a lump growing in my throat.

  “Now go to bed. I’ll take care of the mess. I love you, Gia.”

  ***

  “Terry?” I said, raising my voice in case he was somewhere in the house I hadn’t looked.

  It was the morning after the funeral, and my biggest fear came true. Terry was gone. I was worried something happened to him until I entered the kitchen and saw a note with my name on it hanging from the freezer door.

  Gia,

  Momma was the only thing protecting me from the Lords of Vengeance. I have to leave. It’s safer if I’m away. They’ll have to find me. If I can, I’ll try calling you to let you know I’m okay.

  Love,

  Terry

  “Dammit, Terry!” I said as I tossed the note onto the counter.

  I didn’t know anything about the Lords of Vengeance other than they were a street gang and capable of anything. For all I knew, they already had Terry or worse, he was dead.

  The phone rang and I grabbed it mid-ring. “Terry?”

  “Hello, this is Front Street Bank calling for Francesca Carlisi,” said the stoic male voice on the other end of the line.

  “I’m sorry, but she passed away. Is there something I can help you with? I’m her daughter.”

  “She’s behind on her mortgage payments, Miss,” he said, his voice sounding sympathetic.

  “What mortgage? The house has been paid off for years.”

  It slowly dawned on me how bad things had gotten with Terry. The man who was my brother now was capable of horrible things without thinking about the consequence to others.

  “She refinanced the house six months ago and missed her last three payments,” he said quietly.

  I didn’t know what to say. My mind reeled. How much did Terry get from her? There wasn’t much money in Momma’s bank account, and most of it went to pay for the funeral.

  “Can you please call another time? I need to talk to my brothers and sisters about this.”

  “Of course, Miss. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Hanging up, I waited for the dial tone and called my oldest brother, Carlo.

  “Carlo, it’s Gia,” I said.

  “I can tell from your voice that something’s going on. Let me guess, it’s Terry.”

  “Yes! He must have tricked Momma into refinancing the house. And he says he’s in trouble, and now he’s gone! I need your help,” I said, blurting everything out.

  “Gia, I’m sorry, but you’ve been away for quite a while now. We all have our own problems, and each of us has been burnt by Terry before. I can’t help you and I’m pretty sure if you called anyone else, they won’t help, either. Not as long as it has to do with Terry.”

  Staring at the phone, I couldn’t believe what Carlo said. He was just going to let me deal with everything because he had enough of Terry.

  “Carlo, I don’t know what to do. I don’t even have a job and the mortgage is three months behind already.”

  “Then find a job and move out. Let the bank take the house. It’s not your problem.”

  “But it’s our house. It’s where we grew up,” I said.

  “It’s time for you to grow up, Gia. It’s just a house. And you can’t save Terry, so just forget about that. He’s too far gone. Let it go.”

  He hung up, leaving me still holding the phone to my ear listening to the dull dial tone. I never expected any of my brothers and sisters to act like that. If Carlo, who was normally levelheaded and sensible, responded like that about Terry, then I knew all was lost.

  Sighing, I put the phone back on the receiver and looked around the messy kitchen. Terry couldn’t even clean up like he said he would. Grabbing a stack of dirty paper plates, I shoved them into the trash as I thought about all the messes Terry left behind.

  ***

  A sound in the hall startled me awake. Turning to look at the clock, I saw it said 3:15. Dammit, Terry! I thought as I slid out from under the covers. The least he could do was be quiet.

  Voices came down the hall as I reached the bedroom door. My heart stopped as I realized it wasn’t Terry at all. Were we being robbed? I had to get out of there as quickly as possible.

  Wrapping my light blue robe around me, I tightly tied the belt and headed towards the back of the house. There was a door in the kitchen that led outside. I hoped they hadn’t gotten back there yet and I could sneak out.

  “Well, whatta we got here?” said a male voice behind me.

  Spinning around, a large man in jeans and a leather vest headed towards me. He had tattoos covering his arms and along his neck. A red bandana was wrapped over his bald head. A goateed man in the same vest came up next to him and grinned. They stared at me like a cat stares at a mouse.

  “Guess we found something of value after all,” said the goatee. “Maybe Terry couldn’t sell her.”

  “Shame, I bet he’d get a good price,” said bandana man as he reached to touch my hair.

  I slapped his hand away and folded my arms over my chest. “Don’t touch me! And get the hell out of my house!”

  “Your house?” said the goatee, laughing. “With everything Terry owes, I think this is our house now. And since you’re in the house, you belong to us, too.”

  “I get her first,” bandana man said huskily as he reached for my robe.

  I backed up as far as I could and prayed that God still listened to me. Help me. Anyone. Please, I repeated over and over in my head.

  A loud thump echoed down the hall, followed by another. The two men turned around and left me as I ran towards the kitchen planning my escape. Arms grabbed me. A hand covered my mouth as I tried to scream.

  Looking up, I saw Dante in a buttoned shirt and slacks, all in black. His blue eyes looked even darker and cold, but there was something behind them that told me to trust him. With a quick spin, he pushed my face against his chest and I heard a soft but rapid beat before another large thump collapsed.

  Dante opened the door of the bathroom and pushed me inside. Looking like an extension of his arm was a handgun with a long silencer. He put his finger up to his lips and locked the bathroom door, leaving me alone.

  My heart was beating so fast, I felt it vibrating through my entire body. I thought about escape, but the bathroom had too small of a window. There was no way I could fit through there and once I was in the alley, where would I go?

  The bang of a gunshot filled the air. I ducked and curled myself up into the smallest ball I could manage and moved as far from the door was possible. Dante’s gun didn’t sound like that, and I worried he might be hurt.

  Silence filled the air, chilling me. I hoped no one else could hear how loud my heart was thumping from fear. Not wanting to be found, I held my breath, trying to be as quiet as possible. But nothing could stop me from shivering.

  The doorknob turned slightly, then stopped. With a quick jerk, it flew open and Dante filled the doorway. I leapt towards him and he held me for a moment.

  “We have to go,” he said. “There will be more.”

  I nodded and turned to go towards the bedroom, but he grabbed my arm.

  “Now,” he said, his cold eyes staring deep into mine.

  “But I have to change.”

  “No time.”

  With his
hand still on my arm, he headed towards the front door. I couldn’t leave. I yanked my arm away and rushed back towards the bedroom.

  “Gia!”

  “Momma’s rosary,” I said as I dashed into the room.

  He didn’t follow me. He stood on the porch like a sentinel as I rushed. I had draped the rosary over a framed picture of Momma and I. It was the last picture I had of us together where she still looked well. I couldn’t leave it behind.

  As I hurried back to Dante, my heart swelled with emotion for this beautiful man who saved me. When I stepped onto the porch, he put his arm around my shoulders and guided me across the street. In a dark corner of the parking lot, he opened the passenger side door to a small black car and waited until I got inside before closing it.

  With long strides, he circled the car to the driver’s side and stepped in, keeping his gun on his lap. He kept the lights off as he pulled the car out of the parking lot. Up the street, three cars turned the corner and hurriedly stopped in front of my house.

  Dante’s face was as hard as stone. Several men got out of the cars carrying guns while others kept their weapons concealed. As they entered the house, Dante leaned towards me. His muscular shoulder brushed against me and I felt the heat coming off his body.

  He opened the glove compartment and pulled out a small box. Holding the box in one hand, he flipped it open with his thumb and pressed a button.

  A pop, then a flash of light burst from the basement of my home, followed by another. Dante put the car in gear, its lights still off, and we turned onto the street. A loud bang spun me around in my seat and I saw my home engulfed in flames.

  “No!” I screamed as I tried in vain to open the car door.

  When we reached the end of the street, Dante turned on the car lights. In the distance, sirens headed our way. Dante drove in silence and while I didn’t want to cry in front of him again, I couldn’t help myself.

  His face softened and he reached his large hand out and covered mine, but I pushed it away. I wanted to be left alone. I was so confused. He saved me, but he destroyed my home. Looking out the window, I noticed we were heading towards the bridge.