by Milly Taiden
Amerella plopped onto a hard wooden chair in front of a desk next to the side door that led to the room with the safe deposit boxes. It was already six o’clock and she hadn’t done any shopping yet. She hated that she had to go to the bank every time she dipped into her personal savings. Being a trust fund baby wasn’t all it seemed to be. She had a chain tightly wrapped around her neck, controlled by her guardian, Uncle Giuseppe. Soon, when she turned twenty-six, she would come into her inheritance and do whatever she wanted.
Like buy an island on the equator and disappear.
The glass doors in the lobby swung open and several men wearing ski masks ran in. The first robber fired machine-gun ammo at the ceiling.
“All right. Everyone on the floor, now!”
On the floor? Was he shitting her? She was in a snug short skirt and high heels. She’d never get up if she got down. With full breasts, hips, and thighs, she had a lot to get back up. Luckily, being so far to the side of the tellers’ central location, she was hard to see from the lobby. Maybe she could just scoot farther to the side.
She slowly rose from the chair and turned to quietly shuffle toward the door. Right behind her came a squeaky voice. “He said everyone on the floor, lady.” A very familiar squeaky voice. She swiveled on the ball of her foot to face the robber behind her. The robber’s eyes grew large. Hers narrowed.
“Joseph Albert Lanzia. I’m so telling your mother.”
The slim young robber lowered his handgun. “No, you can’t, Aunt Amerella. She’d be so mad at me.”
“And so she should be.” Amerella slapped her fists on her hips, careful not to mess up the mani/pedi she had before this. “What do you think you’re doing, Joey, robbing a bank?” she whispered. “Do you know how much trouble you can get into?” Even though Joey wasn’t her biological nephew, she’d spent so much of his childhood with him that he’d grown up calling her “Aunt.”
Joey glanced over his shoulder then back to his aunt. “I know, Aunt Amerella. But I didn’t have much choice.”
“What do you mean?”
The leader screamed more commands and handed bags to the tellers behind the booth. Joey moved in front of her so she couldn’t see what was going on. Or to keep the others from seeing her.
“I don’t mean nothing, Aunt Amerella. Just stay hidden—” Joey was younger than the attendant who tried to calm her a few minutes ago. Oy vey. Kids these days. Ha, listen to her—thinking like an old woman when she was practically a kid herself. She’d grown up fast in the last four years.
The main robber’s voice rang in her head. She gasped. “No. Is that Cousin Tony?”
Joey’s released a sigh and his narrow shoulders slumped. “You can’t tell anyone. He’ll kill you if he sees you.”
She harrumphed. “I’ll show him kill when I tell his father. Uncle Giuseppe is not going to like this. Not one bit, I tell you.” Her uncle, Las Vegas’s Mafia king, took everything his family did personally. It wasn’t a good idea to piss off Uncle Giuseppe. And a simple thing like a bank robbery would shame him. Now, the three-million-dollar jewel heist last year by another cousin, that he was proud of.
Tony’s loud voice echoed to their side of the lobby. “Little Dick, everything okay over there?”
Amerella’s eyes widened. “He calls you Little Dick? How dare he insult you like that.” She took a step toward Joey. He put his hand up.
“No, Aunt Amerella. You can’t.”
“Joey, he’s being a big dick. I won’t put up with big dicks.”
The voice came over again. “Little Dick?”
“Yeah, Big Dick. I mean, Big Dog,” he stammered.
Amerella rolled her eyes. “Big Dog? Seriously?” Joey shushed her from further replying.
Joey continued louder. “Everything’s fine. Just keeping the crowd quiet over here.”
Fine. She’d stand there until she could think of something to do. Amerella could not believe her only “nephew” had gone to the dark side. His momma had raised him right. She would know. Even though she was only six years older than he was, she’d partially raised the boy, babysitting for free while his momma worked two jobs on the Vegas Strip.
On the other side of the tellers’ stations, the side door opened. Out walked a distinguished-looking man in a suit and tie followed by the bank manager. Surprise registered on both their faces.
“What is going on—?”
Two shots echoed and the man fell out of her sight. Shouts of “Senator” and “Call an ambulance” were almost drowned out by more automatic gunfire. Sirens finally sounded in the distance. The leader backed away, only a gun in his hand. Tony wasn’t taking any money? What kind of idiot robbed a bank and didn’t take the money? Joey moved to follow him.
“No, Joey,” she called out. “Stay with me.”
Her pseudo-nephew turned to her. His eyes, the only part of his face showing, reflected a torn soul: a kid trying to fit in and be accepted versus doing the right thing. He glanced back at Cousin Tony watching him. She read Tony’s look. His instant recognition of her was obvious. As was the emanating hate. His eyes glowed red, then he pointed his gun at her and fired.
Her shock at his garish action stunned her, keeping her brain from reacting. Then Joey spun his body between her and the shooter. He jerked twice. Once from firing a bullet and a second from being hit in the chest.
Then Joey was gone from her sight, and her vision locked on a bloody splotch on the glass entrance door. Cradling one arm against his chest, Cousin Tony dragged himself through the door.
Amerella’s eyes drifted down to the body crumpled at her feet. Blood flowed onto the shiny white tile floor. Barely registering her actions, she fell to her knees and ripped the mask off Joey’s face. His face was beyond pale.
“Oh my god, Joey.” She scooped his head into her lap. “Hang on, baby. I got you.” She smoothed back hair from his face. “Aunt Amerella won’t let you go.”
The boy’s eyes rolled to her wet gaze on him. “I want . . . right thing . . .” he breathed out. She shushed him, telling him to save his energy, tears falling on his baby face. But he went on. “Promise me . . . you . . . stop him.”
She pulled him closer, rocking him. “I swear to you, Joey. I will do everything in my power to make sure he gets what he deserves.”
“He’s . . . demo . . .” Joey breathed out. No breath raised his chest. Demo what? Democrat? No, she couldn’t see that.
Amerella didn’t know how long she sat holding her beloved friend’s son in her arms. At some point, paramedics pried the boy from her. Through the glass door, she glimpsed Cousin Tony placed on an ambulance gurney. The emotional turmoil spinning through her rocketed her out the door.
She slipped off one high-heel shoe and chased after the rolling bed, her body bobbing up and down depending which foot she was on.
“You goddamned, motherfucking, piece-of-shit, shit-headed, gangrene-infested, coke-whore bastard!” She reached around the dumbfounded paramedic pushing the gurney and repeatedly beat Cousin Tony upside the head with her shoe.
But that still wasn’t enough for her. No. Joey was gone because of him, and she wouldn’t be happy until the same was done to him.
Tony shielded himself the best he could with his arm in a sling. “Somebody get this crazy bitch away from me!”
The EMT grabbed at her flinging arm, but she slapped him with her purse hooked over her arm. “Don’t even think it, buddy. He’s my family and I can beat him to death if I want to.” Onlookers gathering on the other side of the parked police cars laughed and pointed at her. She didn’t care. Over the past three, almost four years now, she lived for two purposes: to show how much she loved her son and how much she hated her family.
With renewed vigor, she swung at the bastard strapped to the gurney, but someone stopped her arm. “Ms. Capone, please.” An older, rougher voice came from
over her head. She looked up and back to see who the hell stopped her rampage.
His face was familiar. He needed a shave, though. The beard seemed to be the rage lately for men. Her opinion of men with hairy faces was they shouldn’t mind women with hairy legs. She was all in favor of the sexy five-o’clock shadow, but the scraggly pubic-looking hair on the chin she could do without.
He snatched the shoe from her hand and dropped it next to her foot.
“Hey, these shoes cost six hundred dollars. Don’t scuff them.”
“Then keep them on your feet, Ms. Capone,” he said.
She frowned and slipped her foot into the shoe, now standing at the same height on both legs. The paramedics quickly took away their patient while she was distracted. She turned and yelled toward the ambulance, “I hope they get stuck in traffic and you die, bastard.” Cousin Tony flipped her off. She returned two birds to him.
“Can’t do that, can you, crip asshole,” she hollered.
The man beside her sighed. “Ms. Capone, please.”
Irritated, she pivoted. “Who the hell are you, and why are you bothering me?”
That drew an unhappy face from him. “I’m Detective Freeman with the Las Vegas PD.”
“Oh,” she said. “Sorry.”
“Ms. Capone,” he asked, “were you witness to the bank robbery and shootings inside?”
“Front and center,” she said. “Well, more like back and side, but I did see it all. Well, most of it. I know it was Tony who shot the senator.”
“Tony shot Senator Sherman?”
“Good god, Detective. He’s the only senator I know. The man came out a side door in the bank and Tony shot him. Then the dipshit started backing out—”
“Which dipshit?” he asked.
“My cousin Tony. That dipshit was going to leave without any money.”
“Was your cousin there to rob a bank or shoot the senator?” he asked.
That was a very good question. One she didn’t care about at the moment as the bank door opened and another gurney, this one carrying a black zipped body bag, rolled out. After all the years in a Mafia family, black body bags seemed almost a cliché. What other family kept a stock of them in the closet at home?
A hand touched her shoulder. “Ms. Capone?”
She turned to the detective. “Yes.”
“Are you willing to testify as an eyewitness?” Detective Freeman asked. She noted a smile in his eyes. Taking down the son of the local Mafia boss would be a dream of any law enforcement official. This was his chance.
Amerella looked around at the growing crowd, roaming officers in dark blue uniforms, and what looked to be reporters trying to get past the uniforms. Would she testify against her family? She thought back to a few years ago, right when she was about to graduate college, and remembered what her uncle made her do. Her decision was made.
“In a heartbeat.”
CHAPTER 2
It was dark when Amerella parked her Lexus in the round drive out front of the house. She climbed the wide steps to the ornate glass door, exhausted and ready to go to bed. Hopefully Maria had something to eat waiting. She could so go for a veggie burger and a huge cranberry-and-apple salad sprinkled with sugared pecans. Her stomach growled. Then chocolate pudding for a chaser. Yum.
The door opened to a worried Maria. Her hands were waving through the air, punctuating words flying from her mouth. Amerella had no clue what they meant. Amerella walked in and closed the door behind her.
“You think your day was rough,” she said to Maria. “Just wait ’til you hear mine. OH MY FREAKIN’ GOD. I was almost killed, Maria.” She laid the back of her hand on her forehead. “Shot down in the prime of my life. Can you imagine?” Amerella leaned against her companion. “Help me to the kitchen, Maria. I feel weak.”
Maria wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You poor bebé. Maria is here now. She take good care of Ms. Amie and all her drama.” They shuffled to the kitchen, where Maria deposited her into a chair at the small round table. “I have a veggie burger and salad ready for you, Ms. Amie. Are you hungry?”
She sighed. “I don’t know if I can eat with all the distress I’m in, but I’ll try.” Maria set a plate and bowl filled with food in front of her.
“That’s a good girl. You must keep up your strength for the young one.”
Amerella’s spirits instantly rose. There was only thing that made her happy these past three, almost four years, and she thanked god every day for her son. The sound of small feet thumping on tile grew louder.
“Mommy, you’re home, finawy.” Her young man stood with tiny fists on his hips in the doorway from the hall. “Where have you been, young wady?” With her feigned-surprise look, he giggled and ran to her. She opened her arms and he wrapped himself around her. She lifted him into her lap and inhaled his sweet scent.
“I missed you, French fry.”
He rolled his eyes. “I been right here with Mawia for hours, Mommy.” She laughed at his over dramatics he’d picked up from her. He was so smart. Like his father. Just as handsome, too. Maria set a Thomas the Tank Engine plastic plate with cut-up pieces of rare steak in front of him. He gobbled them up like they were cookies, which he never touched. She hadn’t figured out his strange diet, but his dad only ate meat, too. Like father like son in more ways than one, apparently.
Amerella reached out and slid her iPad closer and pushed the button at the bottom to bring the screen alive. After entering the passcode, her son’s birth date and year, the homepage popped up with the latest news. Across the top flashed Senator Killed in Bank Robbery. That didn’t take long to get out.
She skimmed the article to get the highlights, mainly to see if she or Joey were mentioned. The reporter noted only the facts and the recent bill the senator was trying to push through that would revitalize parts of Vegas by tearing down the old and putting up new attractions and buildings.
She knew more about that bill than she cared to. At the last several Monday night dinners, when all the cousins and family in the area were required to eat at Uncle Giuseppe’s, the main point of conversation had been about how the senator wanted to knock down the old Mafia gambling holdings but didn’t want to bring them in on the new stuff. Effectively shutting off the Mob’s source of income.
A shiver crawled down her back. She refused to acknowledge what her brain wanted to piece together. If she thought too much about it, she’d hide away in deep depression like she did four years ago. And this time she might not come out of it. No, that wasn’t true. She had a son to protect. And she would with her very life.
With her finger, she tapped the back button and saw Capone in a smaller headline. Her heart hiccupped. Seemed one of the reporters outside the bank heard her and Detective Freeman’s conversation. The headline read Capone Niece to Testify Against Mob Family. Fuck. This scared the shit out of her. What if her uncle read it?
“Mommy,” her son said.
“Yes, love.”
“Bobby’s daddy picked him up from daycare today.”
“Did you meet his daddy?” she asked.
“Yeah, he’s nice, I guess . . .” She heard a question in his voice and despaired at what was coming. “Mommy, why don’t I have a daddy wike everyone else?”
Her heart squeezed. Maria glanced at her with sad eyes, excused herself, and left the room. The subject of his father has been skirted for a while, but now with his exposure to the world as he grew, she knew the questions would come. But today really wasn’t the best day. She’d rehearsed the line she would say to him.
“You do have a daddy like everyone else,” she said.
His small body rotated in her lap. “Why isn’t he here, then?”
Amerella looked him square in the eye. “He’s lost.” Good god, that sounded pathetically lame out loud. Fortunately a three-year-old didn’t understand lies.
&
nbsp; “Wost?” he said. “Where is he?”
She rolled her eyes and harrumphed. “If I knew where he was, he wouldn’t be lost, would he, silly?” She tickled his tummy and he burst into laughs, wiggling in her lap. Maria stood in the kitchen entrance.
“Time for your bath, young man, then to bed,” the woman said.
“Awww, Mawia,” Amerella’s son whined. “Mommy just got home.” Amerella slid him off her lap and patted his bottom.
“You know Maria is the boss around here. I’ll come up and tuck you into bed. I love you.”
“Okay, Mommy.” He trotted to the woman Amerella never would’ve made it without and grabbed her fingers. “Can we have bubbles tonight, Mawia?” His sweet voice faded as they headed down the hall. She hoped Maria saw the thankfulness in her eyes for the distraction from talking about the boy’s father.
She couldn’t handle the emotions the conversation would bring. Not enough time had passed to take the raw edge off the event. Maybe in fifty years, but certainly not four. She fought the tears burning in her eyes.
Amerella gathered the dishes from her dinner and carried them to the sink. She stared out the window into the lot’s manicured backyard. Like all the other rich people in her ’hood, she had the new-fangled playsets for her child, the perfect flower garden for fresh floral displays year round, and a lush, green, fertilized lawn in a place that averaged fewer than five inches of rain each year.
This life was expected of her. This was what she had to do to keep her son safe. But with the Internet article she just read, she worried how secure it was anymore. She walked up the balustrade stairs to her son’s room, where Maria was drying off the child from his bath. He tore from her and ran across the room as naked as the day he was born. This was their nightly game.
“Can’t catch me tonight, Mommy. I’m getting faster.” And he was. His speed for a child his age, even for an adult, was more to the superhuman side of things. That was only the tip of the spookiness going on.