37. Christina
Christina
37
I am so excited. The day is finally here.
I’ve had a countdown going on my phone for my date with Julia, it’s all I’ve thought about this week. We’ve even texted every day, just like we used to, sending pictures and memes back and forth. It’s become a routine so fast it’s almost as if no time has passed between us at all.
I smile to myself.
“Miss Christina, are you sure I can’t take that for you? Those are a lot of bags.” Mario asks, eying my handful of pastries and coffee with concern.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I say, huffing a quiet laugh. I definitely bought too much, but it was hard to choose.
I want everything to be perfect today.
The paper handle of the bag is straining from the weight of the assortment of fresh pastries that I chose at the bakery. It cuts into my wrists as we walk back to the car through the parking lot.
Having Julia back feels wonderful. I’ve even let myself think of the possibilities that we could create a new normal.
Julia’s father works for one of the other Mafia families, although I can never remember which one, so she’s used to this. She understands what my life is like. Even if I can’t share all the details. We’ll attend all the same functions. It’s not like the families are at war.
Surely now that I’m in this life too, it’ll only make us closer.
Mario steps in front of me to open the door and to help slide the bags inside.
“You sure you got enough?” He asks, teasing me.
“I wasn’t sure what she’d want.”
When I walked into the small little coffee shop and bakery, I was overwhelmed by nostalgia, and my wallet took the hit. Well, technically Nico’s.
It’s nice to have a friend to look forward to seeing.
Mario laughs again.
“You’re a good friend,” he says. “And in our world, that’s a high compliment.”
“Thanks, Mario.”
We drive a few more miles to the diner that has been Julia’s and my spot for a long time.
The second Mario stops the car, I hop out, closing the door and rounding the back of the car to follow him in.
I have my coffee in my hand, and I smile to myself. This is the start of something new, something even better than before.
I can see that she’s texted me, and I’m about to respond when I feel a hand against me.
My back straightens, immediately knowing that something isn’t right.
Julia: Forgive me.
There’s a noise, loud and sudden. And then a pain exploding across my face and neck.
Something hits my head, hard. A rough hand tries to cover my face with a scratchy towel, smelling of something awful. I can barely process what’s happening as I throw an elbow back and try to squirm free.
No.
My coffee smashes against the ground, the cold liquid splashing my ankles.
That’s when I hear Mario yelling. “Run. Christina. Run!”
Run. My mind is moving too slow, and my feet won’t do what I want.
There are men fighting nearby, their bodies slamming against things as people scream.
I need to get away.
Think, Christina. Get it together.
But I can’t, no matter how hard I try to focus, it’s like a heavy fog closes around what I can see. This isn’t right.
Gunshots echo throughout the room. The sound shakes something loose inside me. I open my mouth and scream.
Someone should be helping us. Surely the gunshots and the fight will bring the authorities, right?
Why is no one helping us?
The strange man opens the door and shoves me down, overpowering my flimsy attempts to fight against his hold. Cautionary tales from real life crime shows play in my mind. Whatever you do, don’t be taken to a second location.
I fight harder, to no avail. His large, clammy hands force me into the backseat of a car and hold me down.
The door slams shut and I’m trapped. I’m vaguely aware of my name being shouted.
Mario. Oh, God, Mario.
I can see him just beyond the darkened glass of the car window. He’s running towards us with his gun out.
Towards me.
I hold my breath in hopes that he’ll reach me. But then I see the second man step out from behind the car.
It’s like watching a scene in slow motion. My ears ring as the sound reverberates around us.
He levels his handgun at Mario and pulls the trigger. Two gunshots. A bloom of red on Mario’s chest.
He crumples to the ground, out of sight.
The world before me flickering as three more shots are fired in quick succession. Pop. Pop. Pop.
“No,” I scream, or at least I try. I think the words come out as more of a gurgle, the sound getting trapped in my throat.
My body jerks back as the car’s tires screech against the pavement.
Where are they taking me?
I swallow. Mario. Please let him be alive.
The car is moving fast. My body sways as we take the turns at high speed. I hold on and try to do a body inventory.
Nothing hurts besides my head. It aches and my vision keeps flickering. Is this a drug or a concussion, or both? Shit.
“Let me out.” I plead, trying to get a look at my kidnappers.
I can’t make them out. They are all wearing black hoods and the interior of the car is very dark.
My wristlet is still on my arm and I try to shift so I can dig out my phone. It wouldn’t surprise me if Nico and Enzo had a tracker on it.
But the car jerks to a stop and the driver shouts something at the man in the back with me. Then he’s on me, wrenching me out of the car.
Everything is happening too fast for me to think. His hand covers my mouth again with a cloth and I gag.
Whatever drug he put on it makes me feel faint.
My hands shake, my fingers digging in one last time, tearing into him, desperate for escape.
“Put her in the trunk,” the unknown deep voice says. “I don’t want to deal with her.”
I can feel hands hoisting me into the air.
It’s the last thing I remember before everything goes black.