Hot Set

by Ivy Blake

  “Leo! No weapons here,” one of the men called out.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” I crossed over the dead man’s limp body to go to where the men were ripping apart the wooden crates.

  They’d already opened up a couple of them, and as I approached, one of the men held up a plastic bag of toilet paper.

  “What’s this supposed to mean?” I growled and looked in the crate myself. There weren’t just toilet paper in there, there were old clothes and diapers for babies, some thin blankets and tins of baked beans.

  “What about the others?” I asked, looking around the storage room.

  “Same here,” one of the men said, sifting through the relief supplies in another crate.

  “Yup, here too,” a third one said.

  “What the fuck,” I murmured to myself. The Romanos weren’t guarding a warehouse full of weapons, as Marco had told me, they were stockpiling supplies. Possibly for distribution amongst the underprivileged, and now four men were dead guarding this pile of shit.

  “Wrap it up here, dispose of the bodies,” I growled, turning away from the men. I tucked my gun back in my jeans and started walking out of the warehouse into the night air.

  Four men were dead, most of them shot dead by me. For what? For guarding a warehouse full of supplies for the poor. I bit back a curse as I ran my hand through my hair. This wasn’t the first time in the past year that I was questioning Marco’s decisions. I knew I was supposed to trust him blindly; he had rescued me off the streets after my parents died, when I had no family and I was just a kid. Marco had welcomed me into his family with open arms. I was raised to carry out his orders no questions asked.

  I walked over to my bike and jumped on. I was supposed to report back to him and I didn’t know what to say. What I was feeling was exhaustion. I was tired of the continuous bloodshed and the violence of the Aducci family, of Marco’s commands. But how was I supposed to say that to him?

  I rode steadily to the bar where Marco and the rest of the family operated out of and my head was filled with contradictory thoughts. Other families in Naples had resorted to operating more discreetly these days, taking care to not spill the blood of innocents or anyone else, unless completely necessary. We were the only ones who took part in this kind of senseless killing.

  And for what? Based on false information like weapons in a warehouse?

  I knew I wasn’t supposed to be thinking these thoughts. Complete and unwavering loyalty was what Marco expected of me, and that was what I had given him all these years. Collateral damage was a part of our business. The man’s face flashed through my thoughts. He had looked up at me, pleading for his life. Why was I still seeing the face of the bleeding stock taker on the floor of the warehouse? Was I going soft? Was I losing my mind?

  I stopped my bike outside the bar and waited for a few minutes to gather my thoughts. I’d been feeling this way for a year now, and it was only getting worse. The more senseless killing and violence that Marco ordered me to undertake, the worse that nagging feeling got.

  I knew that it was a blessing that Marco had taken me under his wing when I was a kid. I should have felt grateful. And yet, as I walked through the doors of the bar tonight, I couldn’t stop feeling the need to finally say something.

  ***

  Marco was in his office as usual and I walked through the bar, collecting my glass of Campari on the way in.

  Marco was on the phone when I stepped in. He preferred to do most of his business dealings at night, for which he was dressed as usual in a three-piece suit. The thick gold rings sparkled on his fingers as he tapped the desk.

  I shut the door behind me and he held up a finger as he finished the call. I remained standing, leaning against the door and watching him as he spoke. The man was supposed to be like a father to me.

  “Leo! My boy!” Marco exclaimed when he banged down the receiver. “What news?” he asked and I stepped forward to his desk.

  “Everything went smoothly. There were three guards and a sort of clerk guy,” I reported and Marco nodded his head, his eyes glittering with vicious excitement.

  “All dead?” he asked and I nodded my head.

  “Well done, son, have a seat,” he gestured at the chair across from him and I did as I was told, sitting down.

  “What did you find? How much stock?” Marco asked and I took a sip of my drink before I spoke again.

  “No weapons, just toilet paper and can of baked beans,” I replied, staring at him for a reaction. Marco raised his eyebrows in mild surprise and then clucked his tongue.

  “Better luck next time then, I guess,” he said and laughed boisterously. Anger bubbled up in my chest as I clenched my jaw. I was hoping for a little bit of regret from him. I wanted him to feel what I was feeling, but it was obvious that Marco wasn’t going to.

  He raised his glass of Campari for a salute instead and I held back. I couldn’t see the cause of celebration.

  “What? You’re not going to drink with me, Leo?” Marco asked and took a sip of his drink instead. I cleared my throat and looked around the office shiftily.

  “Four men are dead,” I replied and he raised his brow, like he was confused by what I was saying.

  “Yes, good job, those Romanos need to learn to stay off our turf,” he barked and sat back in his leather chair.

  “What territory? They weren’t stockpiling weapons, those were supplies meant for distribution,” I said, trying to keep my voice even, to not give away my frustration.

  Marco jumped forward again.

  “This time, yes, but what about next time? And the time after that? We have to take every opportunity we get, boy, to make a profit, to not show weakness,” Marco spoke passionately, with an angry vein bubbling in the middle of his forehead.

  “Yes, you’re right, boss,” I said and shifted to my feet.

  “Good. I’m glad we see eye to eye on this, Leo. You know you are my most trusted and loyal operative,” he declared and held his glass up again for a salute. I had no choice but to do the same this time. After we had drunk our drinks I decided to speak again.

  “It’s just that, boss, we are the only ones on the attack and most of the times, we are getting it wrong. Innocent men end up dying,” I said, holding Marco’s gaze. He narrowed his eyes at me and I could see him gritting his teeth silently.

  “Are you questioning this family’s methods, Leo?” he asked and I said nothing.

  “Are you, boy?” he growled and I gulped and shook my head.

  “No, boss, it was just a thought. I follow orders,” I told him and Marco sat back in his chair again, his pulpy face stretched in a smile.

  “Good, because I have an important assignment for you,” Marco stated.

  I stared at him, trying not to give away my hesitation. I was less than enthusiastic to hear what this next assignment was going to be. How many more people were going to die at my hands?

  “My daughter, Isabella, you remember her? She’s coming back to Naples,” Marco said.

  I did remember Isabella. We were still kids when Marco sent her away to the States, but she had already made an impression on me before she left. I nodded my head at Marco and he continued.

  “I need you to go to the airport in the morning and pick her up. Just keep an eye on her while she’s here. She hasn’t been here for so long, she’s probably forgotten our ways.” Marco added a laugh at the end of that and had some more of his drink.

  “Yes, boss,” I replied and stood up.

  “And Leo,” Marco stopped me before I could leave. “Isabella is precious to me, my only daughter. I’m relying on you to keep that girl safe, you hear?” he continued and I nodded my head.

  “Yes, boss. I’ll keep an eye on her,” I replied and turning from him, I walked out of his office and back to the bar.

  The men had returned from the warehouse, having taken care of the bodies. They were all drinking now but I didn’t join them. Instead, I walked out, my glass discarded, and st
ood outside for a while. The news that Isabella was returning to Naples had affected me.

  She probably didn’t even remember me. I was nothing but a street kid then, still recovering from the head injury that had made me forget everything that happened before the accident. Marco said that my parents were killed and he had taken me in. Isabella was his beautiful young daughter who had recently lost her mother. She didn’t even notice me around.

  And now she was coming back at the same time that I was beginning to doubt my loyalty to her father. My head was messed up; I felt drunk even though I’d barely had anything to drink.

  I hoped that a good night’s sleep would solve all this.

  Chapter 2

  Isabella

  I stepped out of the sliding doors of the Naples airport and I looked around with a strange feeling in my heart. I couldn’t decide if I was glad to be back or sad. The last time I was here, at this exact spot, was when I was leaving Naples for good, my eyes filled with tears. Papa had come to see me off, and even though he was sending his only daughter away to a new country, far away from him, he didn’t have a single tear in his eyes.

  Papa had always been a hard man, someone who never displayed weakness…unlike Mama; precious, gentle, kind hearted Mama. Andrei Cavallini, a rival mafia leader of our family, had brutally murdered her to teach Papa a lesson and I could still remember her face. She had died too young, she was so beautiful and when she died, Papa hadn’t shed a tear either. I missed her, even now as I stood there at the gates of the airport. I missed her and I could hear her voice, I could feel her stroking my hair, telling me that one day, I could get away from all this.

  I had never understood Papa, how he could be so cold and so strong. He had his men take revenge on the Cavallini family for my mother’s death and that was his only form of expression of grief. After she was gone, he didn’t know what to do with me. I was just a thirteen-year old with no mother, distraught with misery and crying all the time. The only thing that Papa knew to do was send me away to America.

  He told me I would be safe there from all the violence and the threats here. His cousin was charged with looking after me, and I had spent the rest of the years growing up in a stranger’s household, far away from my own home.

  Papa called sometimes, sent me presents on my birthday and for Christmas, but that was my only connection with him. He didn’t want me back in Naples, that much he had made clear to me. According to him, it was for my own safety.

  I still couldn’t understand why I wanted to come back. Perhaps because this had always been home. It was where I had experienced some of the happiest and also the saddest moments of my life, and I couldn’t stay away from it any longer.

  I was twenty-six now, a grown adult and Papa couldn’t keep me away any longer. This time when I told him that I had already booked my tickets, all he had said was, “See you soon, Bella.”

  “Isabella?” I heard a voice beside me and I whipped around, my thoughts interrupted. A man was standing there, searching my eyes. My first thought was that he was handsome…I hadn’t forgotten how gorgeous men from my country were. He was the perfect example of their breed, tall and muscular, dark slicked back hair, glittering dark eyes and a sharp jaw. There was a dangerous glint in his brown gaze and I recognized that, too. It didn’t take me long to figure out that he worked for Papa.

  “Who are you?” I asked him, as he reached for the bags in my hands.

  “I’m Leo. I work for your father,” he said and he held my bags like they were as light as feathers. I’d been struggling to lug them along all this while.

  “He couldn’t come himself?” I asked and Leo said nothing. Instead, he started leading the way to the parked car on the side of the drive-through.

  I followed him hesitantly. I watched the way he moved, the way his bulging muscles moved smoothly under the leather jacket he was wearing. A cigarette was stuck behind his left ear and his back was strong and wide.

  “Take me to our old apartment,” I told him in a firm voice. Leo popped open the trunk of the car and stacked the bags inside. He replied only after he had shut the trunk again and he turned to me. His glittering eyes swept over my body, drinking in my shape and my breasts and my lips. I stared at him defiantly.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “I want to see my childhood home again,” I said and crossed my arms over my breasts.

  “I can’t take you there. It’s a dangerous neighborhood. I have orders from your father to take you to the new house directly,” Leo said and he walked around to hold the door to the backseat open for me.

  I kept standing there with my arms firmly crossed and glaring at the man who was refusing to follow my orders. Wasn’t Papa his boss? Didn’t that make me his boss, too? He didn’t budge. Fine. I would go there myself.

  “Get me some magazines for the ride. I’m bored,” I said, rolling my eyes. Leo stared at me for a few moments, trying to assess the situation and then, leaving the back door open, he walked past me. I turned, following his path as he headed to the magazines stall inside.

  Once he was a good distance away from me, I held out my hand to the passing taxis. One of them screeched to a stop and I jumped into the back just as I saw Leo look over his shoulder.

  “Pollo Calle Stretta, go!” I screamed at the taxi driver and he started the car. I looked through the back window of the taxi to see Leo running to his car. A smile flickered on my face and I turned back around. He, just like Papa and all his men, would have to learn that I wasn’t going to sit around taking orders from them anymore.

  I was a grown woman now and I could make my own decisions. If I wanted to go back to our old home, that was where I was going to go.

  ***

  I got off the taxi just at the end of the street I knew so well, only now, it looked completely different. Where the buildings had once stood tall, they were crumbling down now. Mario’s shop, where Mama used to take me in the summer afternoons to buy gelato, was closed up and had rusty shutters pulled down. I was glad that it was still morning, because none of the streetlights looked functional anymore.

  I walked down the street, pulling my denim jacket tight over my torso. Even though there was no chill in the air, I was feeling cold.

  The street looked deserted and as I took each step, I thought I could hear myself breathing, my heart thudding in my chest. So much had changed in the past thirteen years, or did I remember it incorrectly? What had happened to the neighborhood that I had grown up in?

  I walked towards our old house, which was a small two-storied brick building at the end of the street. Even from a distance, I could see that it hadn’t been looked after. I knew Papa had moved out of the house within a week of me leaving for America, but I’d hoped that he would have maintained it. If not for anything else but for the sake of Mama’s memory!

  A soft breeze blew up the fallen leaves in a gust on the street and I could hear my shoes scraping against the potholed concrete as I walked. Even though I could hear every step I took, I hadn’t heard the men who had been following me this whole time.

  The first moment I realized I wasn’t alone was when I felt a rough hand on my shoulder. I whipped around to find two men standing behind me and I stepped away from them in fright.

  “You look lost,” one of them said and I gulped, glaring at them, trying to hide my obvious fear. The looked like thugs, in clothes with holes in them and cigarettes dangling from the sides of their mouths. I could smell the reek of alcohol off them.

  “I’m not lost, just passing through,” I said, still backing away from them. The men followed me, trying to corner me.

  “What do you have in that purse there?” one of them said, eyeing me up and down like he was undressing me with his eyes. I had been clutching my purse tightly to my stomach. It had money, my IDs and passport and slowly I held it out towards them.

  “Take it and just go! Leave me alone!” I screeched, hopeful that my raised voice might alert someone. Not a window opened anywhere o
n the street; there was still no movement.

  One of them snatched my purse away from me, but they didn’t stop drawing closer. I kept backing away, my heart racing in my chest. I regretted my decision to come here now; I should have listened to Leo.

  From the greedy sleazy look on these men’s faces, I could sense that I wasn’t about to walk away from this scene by just handing them my purse. They wanted something else. They had already looked me over, hungrily, like I was a juicy piece of steak on their plates.

  I gulped.

  “Leave me alone!” I screeched again and the men were still smiling, until the next moment when their smiles dropped from their faces. I had backed into something, into someone, and I shrieked, whipping around to see Leo standing over me.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said and then stepped past me, holding his hand out. The man with my purse gave it back to him hurriedly, and I knew that they recognized Leo. Did he have a reputation in Naples? Just like Papa did?

  “Now, get out of here before I have to load my gun. I’m too lazy today,” Leo growled and the men had already started running away.

  I stood behind him with my chest heaving as he slowly turned to me.

  “What did I tell you about this neighborhood?” he said and stretched my purse towards me. I took it from him with quivering hands. I was still reeling from the shock of what had just happened.

  “I wanted to see my old home. I wanted to find what I had left behind,” I replied, holding my chin up while I could feel my eyes pooling with tears. Leo had been looking at me harshly, with his jaws clenched and now his gaze dimmed. I could sense that he didn’t like seeing me sad.

  “Let’s go. Your father is waiting for you,” he said curtly and brushed past me as he walked towards the car he had parked at the other end of the street.

  With my chest still heaving and my purse clutched to my stomach again, I followed him slowly. I didn’t want to look around the neighborhood anymore. I had already seen everything there was to see, everything had changed. I had come here in search of some of that old nostalgic feeling from my childhood, but I wouldn’t find it here now.