by S. C. Ellen
I am in there for what seems like an eternity, until I hear some shuffling of the door. I get up in fear but then see that it’s just Jase, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
He tells me that the coast is clear and answers his ringing phone.
“Hello? Yo, calm down, C, she’s not missing. She’s right here…in the basement.” As soon as those words are out, the basement door flies open, and Carson is down the stairs in mere seconds and in my face.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?! I specifically told you do NOT move from that spot! And what do you do? The exact opposite of what I told you to do!” He is seething in anger, and I’m quite afraid. “When I came back for you, I didn’t know what happened to you. God, why can’t you just listen for once?” He is so angry he punches the brick wall. He lets out a slight wince and I notice blood on his upper bicep.
“You’re hurt,” I state the obvious as I take hold of his arm and inspect the gash.
“I’m fine. It’s nothing serious.” He pulls away from me and runs a hand down the side of his face. “Why didn’t you stay there and listen to me, Alayna?”
“I’m fine, I’m alive, isn’t that all that matters?”
I see my dad making his way down the stairs, and once he reaches the bottom step, I run toward him.
“Oh, Poppa,” I sob into his arms.
“Shhh…it’s over, Alayna.” He gently caresses my hair while I cry onto his shoulder.
I pull myself together and sit on one of the boxes.
“With a shooting like that, the cops are bound to be called, so let’s get our story straight before they show up.” My father nods to Carson and leads Jase to the back room.
Carson makes his way over to me and kneels down in front of me.
“I’m glad you’re okay. I’m sorry for shouting at you, I just—I didn’t know if you were—” He stops and rubs the back of his neck. “I promised I would be back for you, and when you weren’t there, I thought I failed you. I don’t want to fail you. I can’t.”
My hand cups his chin, while my heart warms at his words. “I know you won’t, Carson, and I’m sorry.”
His hand finds mine on his cheek. “Let’s get out of here before the real shit storm comes.” I nod and follow him up the steps, afraid of what I might see once we reach the main floor of the nightclub.
As if reading my mind, he hesitantly turns to me once we reach the door for the basement.
“I don’t want you to see beyond this door until we are back inside of my car and far away from here.”
I nod my head in agreement because I know I wouldn’t be able to stomach the sight of it all. He effortlessly picks me up with one swift move, paying no mind to the still-bleeding wound on his arm. I lean my head into his chest, and I am gratefully unable to see anything.
But the cries of pure agony from both men and women are loud and soul-crushing. Carson holds me tighter to block out as much as he can.
He has to step over things, turning his body in different positions, and I don’t want to imagine why. His muscles feel tight with tension but loosen as soon as he makes his way through the club. I feel the cold night breeze, and I know we are now finally outside.
I hear the sirens in the distance, and Carson takes off.
A few minutes of silence pass with Carson white-knuckling the steering wheel, focusing intently on the road. I lean back against the seat and let my head fall into my hands.
“The girls…oh God.” I remember the full crowd we had tonight, and the excited dancers. I hope they made it out alive. I look at Carson for any sign of reassurance, but he gives nothing away.
As we drive farther from the club, I finally build enough courage to turn around and look out of the back window, to check and see if there are any cops, or anything suspicious happening behind us. I notice a blue minivan which seems out of place, but I don’t think anything of it. Unfortunately, that thought stops dead in its track, once Carson turns left—and so does the van.
I face forward to the front again, thinking I’m just being overly paranoid after all that happened. I try to relax back into my seat, but I can’t help but glance behind me once again as Carson makes another left.
I breathe a sigh of relief once I spot no blue van. However, we pass a side street, and I see the van again.
“Carson, we’re being followed!” I shout, nervously, tugging on my seatbelt, pulling it tighter against me.
Carson glances in rearview mirror. “Shit.” He spots the van and floors it, passing through a red light, as does the van.
“They’re right on our tail!” I take another look behind us and find not one car but two following us now.
“Hold on tight. We need to call for back-up.” We hit the ramp leading onto the highway, and Carson weaves in between cars. He throws me his phone, and I nearly drop it from my trembling hands.
I dial the first person I can think of at the moment.
“What’s going on, Carson?”
“Jase, it’s me. We are being followed by two—” I glance back, “Three! Oh God, Carson, it’s three cars now!”
“Tell Jase we are getting off at exit 17 and taking the back-alley road onto Smith Drive. If that doesn’t lose them, then make sure he is there with our men. We should be getting there in under five,” Carson orders.
I shout out the instructions as quick as I can, and Jase agrees, hanging up the line. As I glance behind me, we are suddenly jerked to the side by a fourth car. Carson is now in a tug-of-war with the car trying to run us off the road.
Another car pulls up next to us on the other side, locking us in. We are trapped in between two cars on a highway going over 100 MPH. Both car windows are down, revealing semi-automatic weapons pointed in our direction.
My eyes lock onto the driver who has a sickening sneer playing on his face, and I know I am in trouble. My eyes go wide and I duck for dear life when his shots are fired, but none connect, or break through the glass-window.
In the midst of it all, Carson has a smug smile on his face and is completely unfazed, while I am still baffled, yet beyond grateful, at the fact that I am still alive and breathing.
“How are you smiling at a time like this?!” I shout at him in disbelief.
“I knew my bulletproof windows would come in handy one day. Now hold on.” He suddenly hits the brakes, coming to a screeching halt, causing two of the fast-moving vehicles to crash into one another, flipping and rolling onto their sides, hitting a few other innocent vehicles in their path.
Cars swerve out of the way to avoid another crash, and Carson picks up speed again, taking the exit out onto Smith Drive.
Carson leans over to open the glove compartment in front of me, pulling out a gun. He rolls down his side of the window, flicks off the safety, and fires at the other two cars. He gets a solid hit on the windshield of the car, causing it to swerve off into a pole.
He takes a sharp turn into an alley, and then another, losing the last and final car. We finally hit Smith Drive and come to a stop at five other cars. Jase rolls down his window, “You guys alright?”
“Yeah, but wish I could say the same about my car.” Bullet dents are everywhere.
Lance is the last car to roll up; he looks sad and disheveled as he rolls down his window. “Shit is bad at the club, man.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Running a tired hand through his hair, Carson leans over and opens my passenger door. “Get out.”
“Excuse me?” Get out? Did he not just see a bunch of crazy people trying to kill us?
“We have to hitch a ride with your brother. Make sure you get everything out of here, too. We have to get rid of the car before the police find it.”
Understanding dawns on me because he’s right, we can’t drive this thing home. I collect my things and get in Jase’s car. All the vehicles quickly clear out, as Carson stands before his prized Mustang.
After a minute, he pops open the trunk of his car and pulls out a large can of gas, spilling the flammable
liquid all over the vehicle, inside and out. Once satisfied, he discards the can and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it up. He then takes a long drag before he flicks the still-lit cigarette inside of the car, causing a cloud of black smoke to form.
I take a sharp intake of breath as the whole car suddenly erupts into flames, and without a backwards glance over his shoulder, he nonchalantly proceeds to walk toward Jase’s Lincoln.
“And that’s the way to go out…in a blaze of fucking glory,” Carson whispers as the flames engulf the old car.
And I can’t help but watch, hoping that the rest of our day is uneventful…but that would just be wishful thinking.
Alayna
For obvious reasons, fight night was cancelled that weekend. The aftermath was devastating for not only the business, but we lost a few familia members as well, including some of the dancers. My father made it mandatory that everyone makes it for Sunday Mass, so here we are sitting in the front pews of church with our heads bowed in prayer.
Carson is to my left, and my little cousin Max is to my right. He has his head hung low in prayer, looking to be in deep thought, whispering lightly about all the video games he wishes God will bless him with.
I let out a light chuckle, glancing over at Carson who has a slightly amused expression on his face as well.
I feel a little tug on the bottom of my skirt. “Do you think God heard me, Al?”
I pat his little head. “Of course, Max. God hears everyone, right, Carson?”
His once-amused expression vanishes, and he stays silent next to me, with a slight tic in his jaw. Confused by his reaction, I drop it, and reassure Max again with a smile.
“The church congregation urge each and every one of you to come out and celebrate the life of our Lord and Savior at the annual Christmas Gala happening in a few months’ time. We’d like to offer a special thank you to the Pentalini Family who have been sponsoring this event for as many years as I have been a priest here.” The old beady eyes of the priest, formally known as Father Salvatore, find my dad. “May heaven’s blessings always shine down onto you and your family, Vincenzo.”
The members of the church all send their best regards to my father, sitting pridefully next to my mother.
The Christmas Gala is a big deal around here. It’s where everyone is allowed to join on mutual grounds and partake in a silent auction. All proceeds—illegal or not—end up going to the church and into the pockets of all who work here.
Let’s just say the priest is living really comfortably in his $4.5 million estate and his new Mercedes Benz.
“Confession is now open for all.” He gestures, ending Mass, and takes my father into the back to most likely discuss a few business deals.
Money makes even the best turn a blind eye from time to time.
“You coming?” I ask, seeing a line start to form in the front of the room.
Carson looks at the room with narrowed eyes. “My sins are too far gone to be forgiven.” And with that he walks out of the church, already pulling out a cigarette from his pack.
“What’s his issue?” Tessa whispers once we make our way into the line.
I shrug in response. “Hell if I know. I can’t keep up with the guy.”
My mother chastises me, “Language, Alayna. We’re in the house of the Lord.”
I roll my eyes in response, “Yes, because me saying ‘hell’ is the most sinful thing happening in this place.”
She sends me a scolding look and turns to Tessa with tender eyes. “You’re coming for dinner after, right, Tessa? We missed you last week.”
“Of course, Mrs. Pentalini, I’ve been craving a good home-cooked meal from you.”
Satisfied by Tessa’s answer, she walks into the confessional as Liliana makes her way out.
“Please tell me he’s not joining us for family dinner.” Her pointed glare falls upon Elliot, who is speaking closely to Jase.
“Hate to break it to you, Lili, but my mother personally invited him, and you know how it is when you refuse an invite from the queen herself.”
She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Grrrrreat. I can already feel the start of a migraine coming on.”
“Welcome to my world, sister.” Tessa sighs, looking over at Jase who is now staring longingly at her before shaking his head and joining Carson outside.
The light to the confessional room turns green, meaning it’s now my turn. I suck in a deep breath of air and go into the silent room.
I sit on my knees and bow my head to the little slit in front of me, and a voice speaks up from behind it.
“May God enlighten your heart and help you to know your sins and trust his mercy. Go on now, child. Speak your truths.”
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned, these are my confessions…”
I tell him about all the things I feel guilty for and lied about, but hesitate over the one I really need to get off my chest. The one thing that has been on my conscience since the shooting incident.
“Something is holding your soul down. Say it into the open, and let God lead your spirit to the path of forgiveness. We do not judge here, everything you say stays in this room. Let it be free.”
I let out a sigh. “It’s not that simple, Father.”
“Nothing in this life is simple, child, that’s the way God created it. We must earn our way into the Kingdom of Heaven. It’s a gift, not a certainty.”
“That’s the thing, Father…” My mind wanders to the evil things my world is involved in, and mindlessly thinks of Carson and all he has or was made to do. “Does God forgive all things? Is there a point where God just gives up on those who continue to do bad things, even when those bad things may be necessary?”
It’s been weighing heavy on my heart thinking of Carson and if his soul is really damned. He seems to believe so, and maybe that’s the reason he’s so closed off and reserved. He must really think there is no saving him.
“Have you heard of the biblical story of Augustine, child?”
I wrack my brain for any kind of memories or stories I’ve heard about him, but nothing clicks.
“No, sir. I have not.”
The priest pauses for a brief moment, “He was a known thief in his youth, defied one of the Ten Commandments by committing adultery, fathered a child out of wedlock, and turned his back on Christianity. All classified as the worst kind of sins—mortal sins, yes? Do you know what became of him in the afterlife?”
My nerves have me on edge to hear the outcome of the story, but I’m desperate to hear it. “What happened?”
“He became a Saint.” I almost buckled to the floor at the answer, not at all prepared to hear it. “St. Augustine is widely popular amongst the Catholic beliefs because of his philosophical writings and teachings. Not to mention, he has a specific day in commemoration for him. So, no, child, no one is truly damned. It’s how they right their wrongs that make up for it.”
For the first time in a long time, hope fills my chest. “Thank you, Father.”
“Anytime, my child. ‘Forgiveness is the remission of sins. For it is by this that what has been lost, and was found, is saved from being lost again.’ Saint Augustine said that. I’d be sure to remember that, Alayna.”
I blink, “How do you know my name?”
The priest lets out a soft chuckle. “You’ve been coming to this church from the day you were born, silly girl, I care very deeply for this church and the people who attend. Not everyone is all about the money here.”
I smile and bow my head as he continues to forgive my sins. It’s refreshing to be around a selfless person who doesn’t judge me for my actions like everyone else in my world does.
I leave out of there more hopeful than I’ve ever felt before, not only for myself—but for the rest of the lost souls, as well.
Family dinner is a full house tonight. It’s actually nice having everyone with us, especially after the events that played out at the club.
“So, what’s going to happen to Cautio
n now, Poppa?” I ask before taking a sip of my wine.
My father sighs, “With a massacre like that, there is no way we could reopen. Just being in there after what went down sends a chill up my spine. Carson’s club Victory seems to be doing well enough that we can relocate operations there.”
Realization dawns on me at the same time as it does Tessa. “No wonder why we didn’t have to wait in line, he owns the darn thing!” She laughs, making me giggle as well.
Jeez. If he owns Victory, he’s making mucho bucks, because it is one of Michigan’s most prestigious clubs.
“Not to mention the club back in New York he owns too. Well, the one we both kind of share,” Elliot speaks up, raising his glass in cheers to Liliana like that’s going to impress her or something.
“Whoop-de-doo, you own a strip club. How surprising,” she utters from the other side of the table, earning a harsh glare from my mother.
“What else do you own?” I turn to Carson. He runs a finger against his chin in deep thought.
“What does he not own, is the real question,” Jase snorts slurping up a piece of spaghetti.
Carson shrugs, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. “It’s nothing, really. Just some clubs, a bit of real estate, a few security companies.”
“A few? More like a whole goddamned corporation!” Jase exclaims, earning a harsh glare from Carson.
“That boy has always been good with numbers, right, Carson?” A smile of pride takes over my father’s face. “Used to do my taxes at the age of eight!”
“Alright, enough bragging about the superhuman over there. How about we really focus on what the hell we’re going to do about this Christmas gala, so we don’t have a repeat of what happened the last time we held an event,” Uncle Romario reminds us.
“Daddy, no talking about business over dinner!” Max chastises his father with a face full of sauce.
Everyone around the table laughs.
“He is right, Ro,” my father chimes.