Mobster's Angel (Mobster Series)

by Rachiele, Amy

  “I need to talk to Vito anyway. It’s no problem.”

  “Hey,” Ronnie says.

  “Hey, Ron,” Tonio says back.

  He turns back to Erin. “Get your things and I’ll be back in a minute. Vito,” he orders.

  Tonio and I walk to my bedroom.

  “What the fuck?” he spits angrily.

  “I didn’t bring her here, Ronnie did. I was barfing my fuckin’ brains out.”

  “Because you got plastered!” he counters. “I don’t want her here, especially not alone with you. You got me?” he orders.

  “Got it,” I say with reluctance.

  “You need to meet O’Neill at the house, tomorrow, 5pm. Regular place.”

  I know better than to ask why. This is an unusual request; I don’t deal with the cleaner. I keep my mouth shut.

  Back in the living room, Ronnie and Erin are watching T.V. “You ready?” Tonio asks her.

  “Yeah,” the sweet, angel-like girl says. “Bye,” she adds, addressing Ronnie and me. Then her eyes find mine and she says with sincerity, “I hope you feel better.”

  Tonio closes the door with one last angry glance at me.

  *****

  “Ronnie,” Erin grumbles. “There isn’t one punctuation mark in this entire essay. Have you heard of run-on sentences?” She has a red pen in hand and is correcting Ronnie’s work. The pen moves with speed and aggression as she finds every little error. She’s so cute and determined.

  “That’s why I’m here, Kid.”

  We’re in the study group with the other high schoolers’ in the H.S.+ program. I’m sitting next to Kirk. He’s not too talkative or mobile today. In fact, I think he is scared stiff. He must have heard some shit about Ronnie and me… our background.

  “Kirk!” I say louder than I should. I move quickly, scaring him. He jumps, almost right out of his seat. I chuckle. Erin shoots me a ‘don’t’ look. I can’t help it. It’s fun.

  Two studious girls at another table turn their noses up at me in a chastising gesture. I stare back and they turn away. The entire group at our table is gaping at me, except Ronnie and Erin, who are engrossed in Ronnie’s essay.

  One of the girls, I don’t know anyone else name but Kirk’s, says for my benefit, “I thought this was a study group, not tutoring.” Her friend nods in agreement furiously.

  Erin was paying more attention than I thought. “Feel free to move to another table, Lisa.”

  Oh, shit! My girl looks mad. Wait! I’m fucked. Did I just think, “my girlfriend?”

  “No, it’s fine! I didn’t mean it in a bad way. We could all use some review.” Prissy Lisa is backpedaling.

  Everyone is quiet after that and we all do our own thing. I peer down at my essay. What should you know about your enemies? I thought that this was an interesting writing prompt for class. It seemed directed at me.

  Enemies are typically disloyal and selfish. If your enemy is confident, connected, and competent, talk to people you trust to find out about your enemy and his network. Never assume anything and get the facts. Call in a few favors. Keep informants close and well fed, and remember, bad information can get you into trouble.

  Monitor your enemies’ moves to really know them. Observe movements, dig into their pasts, and find out their weaknesses. Check out if they have a record, who they like, and what may be good leverage to hurt them if needed. And watch your back.

  Knowing your enemy is a dangerous game. Be patient and don’t let anything blow up in your face. If they’re your enemy, you’re probably theirs.

  I don’t give a shit about what people think. Since Erin came along, I only worry about what she thinks. I’m not comfortable with her pulling apart my essay. I struggle to find the confidence that I generally always possess. I feel exposed with Erin. That’s not normal for me.

  “Vito, do you want me to check yours?” Erin asks.

  “Nah. I’m good.” I lie.

  *****

  At the apartment, I shower, do some homework, and then it’s time to leave. I get in my car and drive. I know precisely where I’m going. It’s a house way on the outskirts of Palmetto. It’s Mafia owned and maintained. When events or meetings happen that can’t take place at the restaurant, we go there.

  The house appears to be empty on the outside. Inside, the house is completely wired with security cameras, filled with hidden firearms, and ready for an apocalypse. There’s a huge conference table with leather chairs for all of the dons, bosses, underbosses, and head-enforcers. In a back room is a commercial kitchen; next to it is a game room equipped with a pool table, a poker table, and some couches. The warehouse is for larger meetings or for people that we don’t want to know about this location.

  I know about it because Tonio’s father used to make us clean it like fuckin’ maids until we were fifteen. He said it had to do with responsibility, getting your hands dirty, and doing shit you just didn’t want to do.

  The O’Neill mini-van is already there when I arrive. I park in the driveway and walk through the backyard. I hesitate at the back door, not sure what this is all about. Did I do something that’s going to get me whacked?

  I walk inside slowly. The house is completely silent. I move with caution and pass through the kitchen. The cellar door is open. I stand at the top of the cellar stairs and gaze down below. A light is on. Fuck it. I say to myself. If it’s my time, it’s my time. Running wouldn’t stop shit.

  I tread downstairs. The wooden steps creak as I go. It sounds loud to me, but that could be because I’m on alert and don’t know what the fuck is going on. O’Neill must be in the room on the right because I hear noises and movement.

  I look in. Patrick is hovering over a long metal table. There’s a body on it. It’s a man with a suit on. Patrick senses me and glances up. Our eyes meet and he continues his task.

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” he says. Okay. “Come in.”

  Patrick removes the jacket from the body. It gets stuck on the corner of the table on the side I am standing on. I help him remove it. He then unbuttons the white collared shirt and I help him remove that too.

  He picks up a saw-like tool and holds it up high. “This is a bone saw. It’s the same kind doctors use for amputations. Any saw will do if you have to work at the scene.” Okay. He lowers his face mask and begins sawing at the arm of the man on the table. Drops of blood fly, hitting the mask as he slices through skin and muscle. I take a step closer, watching. Within a few minutes, the arm is removed. He walks around the table to the other arm. I shift out of the way for him.

  “She’s told me about you… how you helped and cared for her,” Patrick tells me as he works. “You saved her from getting burned too.” The arm slips off the table before he’s done. I reach out to hold it steady for him. It’s gory. “She’ll be sixteen soon. I don’t like all that stuff you bought for her last year. It’s too much. She doesn’t need all that. Be smarter with your money.”

  “Yeah, you told me before. I remember it clearly,” I say with sarcasm.

  Patrick told me to stay away if I was starting to have feelings for her when we were at the casino in Chicago. They were sending her away to California. Her dad thought it would help her overcome all the shit she had been through.

  I did exactly as he said. I never contacted her while she was at school, not once. There were so many times I wanted to send just a text, but I didn’t. I didn’t even know she was back until she showed up in my composition class at college.

  The arm falls off and I place it to the side with the other. Patrick lifts the mask and wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. Blood drips off the sides of the mask and onto the floor. “There’s a laser bone saw too that slices and coagulates, no mess.” I nod politely. He continues. “I sent her away and her mother dragged her back.” He pauses and puts the saw down. “I’ve made so many mistakes.” Patrick unbuckles the guy’s pants. “You have to take off the clothes or fibers get stuck in the saw,” he informs me.

  O
kay.

  As much as I don’t want to take some dead dude’s pants off, I help. Patrick walks into the main area of the cellar and flips the furnace on.

  “Take the clothes and throw them in the fire box,” he orders.

  Okay. I gather up the corpse’s clothes and head to the furnace. I open the little door and shove the clothes inside, one article at a time. They burn as I go. I stand there watching, thinking about this bizarre situation. Why am I here? I shut the small metal door and go back. The floor is now covered in red. Patrick is working on the legs.

  “Grab some gloves and wrap the limbs in the plastic.” I nod. I see large sheets of plastic tarps in the corner. I tug on some gloves, grab one, unfold it, and lay it on a table against the wall. I pick up the arms and place them in the center; blood coats my hands. I take the recently removed leg and do the same thing. “Burn the gloves, wash your hands, then use duct tape to secure the plastic.”

  I toss the gloves in the furnace and walk to the sink on the wall. It’s stained a light pink in the basin. I use the soap that’s there. It stinks. It’s some type of industrial strength stuff. I go back to the packet of limbs and wrap the duct tape around and around, making sure nothing will leak. Patrick is now wrapping the torso in plastic.

  “Your place has already been decided. That’s what makes you no good for her.”

  What the fuck? Chopping up a body and cryptic talk.

  “There’s a mop over there. Pour some bleach in with the water.”

  I’ve never heard this guy say so many fuckin’ words. I get the mop and wheeled bucket vehemently, getting pissed off. What do I look like, a fuckin’ house-cleaner? The words stutter in my mind. Holy shit! Realization hits me hard. My head snaps up from mopping. I look him straight in the eye.

  “I’m supposed to be Capo! Antonio’s head-enforcer!” I bellow.

  “Enforcer and cleaner. It’s the perfect cover… I’m done. I owed Delisi twenty-five years. It’s almost over. This is your new job. You’ll work with me over the next year. Then you’ll take over. If all goes as planned, it’ll be years before Antonio becomes Boss, and by then you’ll have been doing this for a long time. You’ll still work with Antonio, but this way, no one will suspect you. They know you’ve been selected and raised to be Antonio’s enforcer.”

  “Holy fuckin’ shit! You’re serious!”

  “You’ll be good at this. You’re strong,” he tells me.

  I’ve been standing so long in one spot over the bleached water that my eyes start to burn. I’m trying to register what he’s saying. Me, the cleaner. Undercover hit-man… exterminator. My job will be to leave no trace, to wipe away everything when things go sour, to dispose of people who don’t follow the mafia code. I’ll have a dual roll someday, just to hide my identity. The secrecy of the cleaner keeps defectors and shit-stirrers loyal.

  “Trust… it’s gone. She told me that you and Antonio taught her things… and that Joey… he taught her self-defense. She’s grown up a lot in a few months. I don’t approve, but we have to let her make the decision. She hates me already. I can’t risk damaging her more,” he huffs with more emotion than I’ve ever heard from him.

  “What are you saying?” I ask.

  “Erin’s not cut out for this life. I kept it from the girls. It was wrong. I should’ve prepared them, taught them the ways of the underworld. It was my mistake.” Patrick beats himself up. I take it all in. “Erin’s been broken, scarred. I don’t want her to get hurt again.” He rummages around, not looking at me. “Do you love her?” he questions.

  “I tried to put it aside. I stayed away, but she showed up in my class,” I emphasize. I suck in the breath that has been choking me for almost a year. “I do… she’s all I think about.”

  “I don’t think Erin knows her own feelings when it comes to you. I won’t interfere. But we have to let her find out on her own. Don’t push anything! She’s still only just about sixteen! Understand?!” he commands. His voice was business, then remorseful. Now it’s threatening.

  I don’t really know what Erin thinks of me. On one hand I think she’s into me, and on the other it seems as though she sees me as a big brother or friend. She only met me officially last fall when we left for South Bend. I always knew her. I paid attention and stayed in the shadows, watching. I kept my distance. I know it’s fucked up, being attracted to someone so young, but I couldn’t help it. I still can’t.

  “I don’t think you would deliberately hurt her or let her be harmed,” Patrick starts. “You’ve proven that much already.”

  I nod and shift the mop again, wiping up more blood. The images of Erin, an angel in my eyes, shocked and suffering, plague me. She didn’t deserve any of it. It’s partly Patrick’s fault, and he knows it. She never learned how to pick up the pieces, how to move on.

  The more time I spend with her, the harder it gets to stay platonic. All I want to do is touch her, be with her, be there for her. But Patrick is right - she has to figure out what she feels for me on her own. What will she think if she ever finds out I’m going to be a cleaner, just like her Dad?

  This is fucked up.

  Erin

  How’s school going? 

  I get a text from Clarissa. She is back at school in California.

  Me: Good. How’s school there?

  Clarissa: Lonely without u! We miss u!

  Me: I miss u guys 2.

  Clarissa: Can u come visit?

  A small emoticon of a pleading smiley face pops up.

  Me: Hmm… That would be fun. I could get a break from my mother.

  Maybe Thanksgiving weekend?

  Clarissa: Yippee!

  Me: I’ll ask my dad.

  Asking my mother would be stupid. She won’t want to spend the money for a plane ticket on a holiday weekend, especially after she nagged me to come all the way back to Palmetto.

  An awkward, icky feeling comes over me. Brice! Clarissa hasn’t mentioned seeing him. I wonder if he ever came back to school?

  And Vito! I would miss him… I kind of don’t want to go and not see him… but it’s a weekend, a holiday: I wouldn’t see him anyway. Weird.

  Chapter 10

  Vito

  I pop into Antonio’s car. Dennis had a week. The week is up. It’s time for him to pay. Tonio doesn’t bring up our conversation the last time we went to collect and I don’t either. He would just haul off and punch me again. That’s how guys are.

  Tonio steers us over to the street we saw Dennis last time where the buildings are closely cinched together. I see him a few feet down from where he was last week. He doesn’t run when he sees Antonio’s car.

  Tonio parks up against the curb and we get out. Our car doors slam simultaneously.

  “Hey, Dennis,” Tonio greets him. He doesn’t run, but his face is full of raw fear.

  “Hey,” he says softly.

  “You got anything for me?” Tonio asks.

  “Yeah.” Dennis pulls a wad of hundreds out of his pocket. His fingers are puffed out with white bandages. He hands the bills to Tonio. I move close to Dennis and cross my arms over my chest. Just in case this fucker tries to run. The money might not all be there.

  Tonio counts. He shuffles and runs the bills through his fingers, counting them in his head.

  “Well, good job, Dennis.” Tonio smiles at him. “Nice doing business with you.”

  Tonio nods to me that we are all set. I pat Dennis on the shoulder and he shrinks away from me.

  “Stay out of trouble.” I tell him.

  We pop back into Tonio’s car and drive away. He hands me an envelope and the money. I slip the money inside and seal it.

  *****

  Tonio parks at the restaurant and we head inside. Antonio’s Pop is there, sitting with his head enforcer, Donny, the knife. We walk to him and Tonio places the envelope in front of him.

  “Good,” he praises.

  He takes out some hundreds and hands both of us five each. “Go. Get some dinner. Tonight’s spec
ial is eggplant parmigiana. It’s delicious.” He waves his hand in the air dismissively.

  We start to walk towards a free table when Mr. Delisi calls me. “Yo, Vito.” He flicks his fingers, signaling me to come back. Donny gets up and leaves. I sit in his seat.

  “How’re you doin’?”

  “Good,” I say.

  “I heard you met with my man.” He means Patrick.

  “Yup.”

  “Are yous okay with it?” he asks.

  I shrug my shoulders, noncommittally.

  “I’ve barely had time to digest it, but I know my place. If that’s what you want, you know I’ll do it.”

  “You’re a good boy. I’m proud of you. So is your pop.” He takes a heaping forkful of parmagiana and chews, thinking.

  He pauses a minute to consider me before continuing. “This girl. Megan’s sister. You like her.”

  I nod.

  The boss laughs, “I don’t know what it is with you boys, but...” He pauses. “But she’s a little thing, not too strong. We sent her away.”

  I nod again.

  “Yous think she can take it. Her mother brought her back, but I told Patrick to send her away again. She doesn’t have the oolee or the stomach for this shit.”

  I nod.

  He cuts his eggplant and takes another bite, thinking. “Yous wanna take a chance with her, that’s fine. I won’t send her back. But nobody, not nobody knows your new job.” He says low on his breath.

  “I understand.”

  “No bitches you bang… nobody. Get me? Tonio and the girl you put a ring on only. That’s it.”

  “Yes,” I respond. He takes another bite and waves his fork as he talks.

  “What is this shit with Baby?” he asks, annoyed. “He’s a fuckin’ nag.”

  I shake my head, annoyed too.

  “I went to let off some steam and a fucker he’s got fighting there now pissed me off. I took him down twice, one time not in the ring. Baby’s got his pants in a fuckin’ wad now cause I messed his shit up.”

  “I told you, fight or don’t fight. But Baby is fuckin’ pissing me off. Lay off messing people up outside the ring, ‘kay?”