Chapter Nine
I leaned my head back into the chair. As the plane soared high above the clouds, my fingers twitched with an urgency I could hardly ignore.
The familiar craving for a cigarette gnawed at me, a relentless reminder of my last indulgence before boarding.
I glanced around at the rows of passengers, each absorbed in their own world, blissfully unaware of the battle waging within my soul.
The tiny, cramped cabin felt suffocating, each breath a stark reminder of my confinement, and the no-smoking sign glaring above me like a cruel taunt.
The metallic taste of anxiety lingered in my mouth, mingling with the hum of the engines.
I closed my eyes, desperately willing the urge to subside.
It was a test of willpower in the most unlikely of places, and as the miles stretched beneath them, I found myself counting down the minutes until I could finally step onto solid ground and light up once more.
The only other craving that would satisfy me was Bethany’s touch.
“The Gustos are out.”
“Fuck!” Luca slams his glass of liquor onto the floor. “If we don’t secure this territory, we are done.” He has become good at masking his Chicago accent; however, right now, he comes out full force due to his anger.
“We can make a peace deal,” I suggest.
“NO,” Luca raises his voice. “We didn’t come to California to fucking make deals for peace or get stepped all over. If we want to be able to take over Chicago, we need the resources to do so. This is our opportunity to make a name and gain some traction.”
He is right. Luca has a plan of action to take over Chicago from the Baricelli family, however before we could go back to our city to claim it, so it is crucial we have the money and power to do so first. Around here the Razzano Family had the connections to everything.
“The other families want to be allies but they can’t commit,” I explain to Luca. “They are scared to go against the Razzano family and rightfully so. The last family to go against them barely made a wave before they were all lynched on display in front of their own homes.”
“So make a statement,” Luca looks at me with just pure evil in his eyes. “Go meet with Roberto Razzano and don’t you leave until we have the upper hand.”
With a nod of my head, I turned on my heels and walked away. I spent the night thinking about what to say or even how to tell the most powerful family in California to step down from overtaking our area. We spent a year claiming this area – and Luca wasn’t going to give it up easily.
How do you take power away from someone?
You kill their reputation – although everyone was too scared to go against them so that wasn’t working.
You kill the head of the family – that would only bring us heat and it was not something we could handle alone at the moment.
There was only one other option left. You stop their cash flow – no money means no way to fund your resources; no one did anything for free.
This would be without a doubt the biggest accomplishment in my role as Consigliere to Luca.
Just as this was important to Luca – it was important to me for a different reason.
I wasn’t Italian – it didn’t make me less of a person but unless you are Italian you weren’t ever viewed as one of them.
You could dabble in the lifestyle but you could never be inducted in.
Truth be told I didn’t know what I was. My mother claimed I was a bit of everything but she was a junkie so that meant shit.
Luca was crazy to have me as his Consigliere and no one took him seriously because of it.
I was the exception to the rule for him – which was why I needed to make people fear my name if they wouldn’t respect it.
It took a week for Roberto Razzano, the head of the family, to meet with me at his vineyard.
This place was a gold mine. Without needing to take shares from other family’s revenue, he would still be able to survive off this place alone.
He had a table set up on the terrace balcony overlooking the vineyard but only his seat had a plate setting in which he was eating Pappardelle Bolognese in a deep porcelain plate.
The smell of the red sauce made my mouth water.
A woman came out and sprinkled parmigiano cheese over the pasta.
Roberto watched me watch her do it. He must think I was starving for a bite, meanwhile I was just checking out the girl’s ass.
She made it look like art as she held the large spoon over the pasta and lightly let it fall into the dish.
“April here is the best cook on the East Coast. Will cook anything I want whenever I want,” Roberto says as the woman walks away.
With a fork in one hand and a spoon in another, Roberto twirled pasta using the utensils so that it neatly wrapped around the fork and could easily be put into his mouth.
He looked at me observing my reaction. He wanted me to feel like a starving dog watching his master eat. It made me hate the man even more.
“Next time ask for a salad,” I say looking at the buttons of his shirt that look like they are about to burst.
Holding back a sneer, he replies with his mouth full, “Pasta is the heart and soul of a true Italian.”
He was insulting me now, yet I remained calm as thoughts of ripping his throat out played in my mind.
“I’ll make sure my wife is Italian who will cook for me all the time. That way I know what it’s like not be able to look at my dick.”
This pisses him off. “Better to know you have one then not.” The two men behind him looked like pit bulls ready to attack at his command.
His threat to chop mine off should have scared me but it only fueled the fire. “This is the last chance at backing down peacefully.”
Roberto laughs, “If Luca wants to dig his own grave, then I’ll let him.”
“He’d rather not start any problems.”
Scooping another bite of pasta into his mouth, “Tell Luca, from me to him – fuck off. You Chicago men think you’re so tough coming here and take what’s mine.
” He waves his fork at me as though that will dismiss me from the table.
When I don’t budge, he goes on, “Do you want your sister to find you with your brains blown out? My men will make it look like a suicide.”
Now he struck a nerve. Whether he knew about my little sister Marie committing suicide that same way or not, negotiations were now off the table. Getting to my feet, I straightened my suit jacket.
“It was a pleasure,” I smile. Taking out a cigarette, I show myself out.
As I walked toward the car, a plane flew overhead.
I got into the vehicle just in time. The smell of gasoline filled the air.
I heard commotion happen as someone yelled when they realized the plane wasn’t spraying pesticides over the grape vines.
Puffing on the cigarette, I smoke it right until I get to the gate and before I turn onto the road, I toss the cigarette out the window and onto the lawn.
It caught fire immediately and within minutes, the vineyard was destroyed.
That was the downfall of Roberto Razzano, the rise of Luca DeCarlo, and the respect I got as Consigliere.
Fuck it. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I got up heading to the bathroom. Two flight attendants were cleaning up the cockpit area but looked up and smiled at me.
“Is everything okay?” One of them asked.
“About to be,” I winked shooting her a smile that made her swoon so that she wouldn’t notice I swiped a knife from one of the carts from first class. “If you could get me a soda, I’d appreciate it. I’m at seat 28C.
“Of course,” she smiled.
“Thank you darling,” I replied as I opened the bathroom door, slid in, and securely locked myself in.
The cramped bathroom of the airplane was dimly lit, the faint hum of the engines providing a low, rhythmic vibration unfolding within its tiny confines.
I turned my attention to the small, smoke detector located within the wall looming above me.
With eagerness, I popped out the detector from the ceiling using the knife.
With the thin head of the dull knife, I slowly and carefully unscrewed the pin holding the face of the detector.
Once I removed the top, I ripped out the detector piece dismantling it all together.
A rush of adrenaline coursed through me as I pulled out a small tin that held my cigarettes and a lighter.
As I lit the cigarette, the soft glow of the ember cast fleeting shadows on the cramped walls.
The first drag filled my lungs with a sharp release, the smoke curling upward, dissipating into the stale air.
With each inhale, I closed my eyes, letting the memory of Bethany wash over me like a warm wave.
I could hear her laughter, a sweet melody that had once filled my world with light replacing the need for this addiction.
In that moment, as the smoke spiraled into the air, and I was transported back to that night on the beach, where the salty breeze had mingled with the scent of her shampoo.
Under the cloak of night, the moon cast a silvery glow upon the tranquil waves, creating a shimmering path that led directly to the secluded stretch of beach where I found Bethany looking out toward the ocean.
Taking one more look behind me toward the hotel making sure no one had followed me, I let out a sigh of relief.
Bethany turned around to face me, her long blond hair blown to the side as she smiled, standing there in a thin white short night gown.
She looked like an angel, and I the devil she so eagerly was waiting for.
“You sure no one saw you leave the room?” I question as I approach her.
“Everyone is asleep. I snuck out of the room from my terrace.” Bethany smirks at her choice of booking a ground floor room.
Holding her face with my hand, I pulled her in for a kiss.
My other hand placed on the small of her back, I felt every part of her body against mine.
The cool, damp sand, and the air was thick with the scent of salt water, the soft sound of the ocean lapping against the shore wrapped us in a world neither one of us wanted to escape.
As our lips parted, we both leaned our foreheads forward as they rested on one another.
“Please tell me you have something up your sleeve for tomorrow.”
“Not this time sweetheart.”
“How am I supposed to lay in bed with him every night?” Bethany’s voice is soft as she spoke.
“I’m sorry,” is all I could say.
Staring into each other’s eyes, we found solace in each other, creating a memory that would linger long after the tides washed away our footprints in the sand.
“He’ll want kids.”
The lump in my throat makes it hard to speak, “So you will give that to him.”
“I want them to be yours.”
I place a kiss on her forehead. “You have to play the role Bethany. He can’t suspect a thing.”
Her emerald eyes hold back tears. “If this is the only way I can still have you – then I will do it.”
“I love you.”
I’d never said those words to a woman before and it was the first time confessing it to Bethany.
It was the night before her marriage to Pio, so I was shitty on timing but I had to say it.
She had to know how much of a struggle this was for me just as it was for her.
Bethany’s eyes sparkled like the stars above, reflecting the emotions that danced between us—desire, excitement, and a hint of trepidation as our breaths mingled in the warm night air.
I led her onto the ledge of rocks that piled out into the water where waves crashed into them.
Sitting on the edge, Bethany swung her leg over straddling me.
The heat coming off her body warmed my skin.
She felt like home. Our lips touched and we fell into a deep passionate kiss.
My hands wondered up her thin night gown and it was no surprise she was wearing nothing underneath.
Bethany slowly rocked her hips as our tongues massaged one another.
My dick hardened from the heat and feel of her rubbing against it.
Reaching into my sweatpants, I pulled it out guiding it to her entrance.
Bethany raised herself and then gently lowered herself onto the tip until I was fully inside of her.
She paused a moment allowing the walls of her pussy to tighten around my cock as she placed her mouth back onto mine.
Slowly, she rocked her hips forward and back, from time to time she pulled out of our kiss to catch her breath.
Neither one of us ready for this to end.
When I felt her walls tighten, I knew she was approaching her climax.
Holding out from my own orgasm, I waited for her to finish first – just like I always have.
Her breathing got heavier, her hands gripped my shoulders for support, her muscles began to stiffen as her body prepared for its release while I watched this beautiful women give herself to me.
The waves aggressively crashed into the rocks adding intensity to the sensual intimate moment.
“I’m going to cum,” she moans.
She looked to me for permission and I nod my head. We both climax. Thankfully we were far enough not to be heard.
I let out a grunt, semen spilling into the toilet.
Reality crept back in and I was back in the sterile confines of the airplane bathroom with my dick in hand and a cigarette in my mouth.
Cleaning myself up I had to laugh at the current situation.
Each drag of the cigarette was bittersweet, a fleeting tribute to a love that felt both achingly present and impossibly distant.
I, Emilio Pugliese, am in love with a woman I cannot have.