14. Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
Luciana
I t was the morning, and the two of us were in our normal routine of getting Starbucks before Emilio left for work. We were stuck in an obnoxiously long drive through line. It seemed like everyone in NYC was having a rough morning and needed some coffee.
“We’re going to a charity dinner tomorrow,” Emilio said.
“I didn’t know the Mafia was charitable,” I responded.
My family and I had never attended a charity event. Although, to be fair, I had skipped all events and dinners when I turned fifteen.
“Do you think it’s only charity?” he looked at me and raised his eyebrow.
Of course. There had to be some shady dealings happening below the surface of what should be a good event.
“Whatever. As long as there’s good food for me to eat while you’re up to your nefarious business.”
“Nefarious?” he said, laughing at my choice of words. “You make it sound so sinister, Jaws.”
Our car inched forward in the line, and I could already smell the familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting through our open window. The scents of cinnamon and caramel made my stomach growl in anticipation.
“Are you ever going to try something other than black coffee? There’s an entire menu full of delicious things,” I said.
“Hm, ok. I’ll try cream and sugar today.”
Ugh. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
The night of the charity dinner had finally arrived, and Emilio had spared no expense. He had surprised me with a stunning new dress that hugged my figure perfectly. The intricate lace detailing and delicate beading made me feel like a princess, though I couldn’t help but feel slightly out of place among the elegantly dressed crowd. My father had never bought me anything this nice for events when I was younger.
My heart fluttered nervously beneath the fabric of my new dress, and I stood somewhat awkwardly at the entrance of the grand convention center. After years of dodging events, I couldn’t help but feel out of place.
Emilio’s hand wrapped around mine as we made our way inside. The lights glimmered off the polished marble floors and crystal chandeliers, creating a glamorous ambiance. People in designer gowns and sharp suits mingled around me, their laughter and chatter filling the air.
I would’ve thought this was a normal charity dinner until I caught sight of the Alto’s.
“Ugh,” I groaned.
“What’s wrong?” Emilio asked.
“The Alto’s are here.”
Leone and Valentina Alto socialized with a man I hadn’t seen before, while their daughter, Hilaria, stood awkwardly to the side. She and I used to be good friends, and I gave her a nickname - Liria. She hated her full name. As awful as the Alto’s were, Liria had somehow turned out so sweet.
We were good friends until her parents decided I was a horrible influence who would send her to hell and ruin her future. And Liria had no backbone, so she cut off our friendship.
When Leone and Valentina saw Emilio and I, they quickly discarded the man they were talking to and beelined towards us. Liria trailed behind them, looking like she would rather be anywhere but there.
“Just be nice,” Emilio whispered in my ear. “No one likes the Alto’s. But we have business later tonight.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Renzetti,” Leone boomed. He gave me a kiss on both cheeks and I almost gagged at how strong the scent of cigars was.
“Leone, Valentina. Wonderful to see you again,” Emilio responded. “I don’t think I’ve met your daughter?”
“This is Hilaria,” Leone said, wrapping his arm around her waist and all but pushing her forward. “She’s a lovely girl. We’re also looking for a husband for here, if you have any available friends?”
Leone had phrased it as a lighthearted joke, but I knew he was not joking at all.
Liria looked at me nervously, her eyes flitting from me to Emilio. I knew exactly what she was thinking. What was it like being married to a monster?
“Pleasure to meet you, Hilaria,” Emilio said.
“Are you free to talk now, Emilio?” Leone asked.
“Of course,” Emilio responded. “Luciana, will you be ok on your own?”
It was odd hearing him call me by my name instead of “Jaws.” I didn’t want to admit it, but a small part of me was disappointed I didn’t get to hear my pet name.
That couldn’t be it. I probably had heartburn, or something.
“Of course.”
Leone and Emilio left to god knows where to do their nefarious Mafia things. It left me alone with Valentina and Liria, and I would have rather put my fingers in a mouse trap than be alone with them. Well, mostly Valentia.
The moment Emilio was out of sight, Valentina put her signature look on her face, the one I’d never been able to stand. She looked like she was pissed off and just inhaled a strong scent of dog shit.
“Luciana, dear ,” her voice dripping with insincerity. “Emilio is quite the catch. Amazing you landed him.”
“I actually think it was a shitty business deal,” I responded. “Unfortunate I had to be part of it.”
Valentina looked like she had a lot to say on the matter, but before she could respond, I saw her signature look change to a fake smile, and she waved to someone behind me.
“Hilaria, let’s go,” she said.
“I think I’ll stay, uhm, here,” Liria responded timidly.
“What did you say?” she hissed.
“I’d just like to…stay here.”
Valentina did not have time to argue. Going off the fake facial expressions on her face, the person behind me was clearly beckoning her towards them.
“Fine,” she hissed, walking away.
There were a few moments of silence between Liria and I. We hadn’t talked since we were thirteen, and the way it ended had been awkward. The three had cornered me and her parents said ‘stay away from her.’ Although in a more verbose, cruel way.
“I think that was the most I’ve ever heard you talk back, Liria,” I said, using the nickname from when we were younger.
“Probably,” she said meekly.
Leone and Valentina Alto truly were the worst.
“Well, let’s keep it on theme,” I said. “Let’s go to the bar.”
“But we’re not old enough to drink,” she responded.
“I have a feeling they’ve been paid to look the other way.”
I led Liria towards the bar, my heels clicking on the polished marble floors. She kept casting nervous glances back at her mother, who was now engaged in a deep, animated conversation with some other wealthy patrons.
It was surprisingly empty. The other guests must be enjoying the hors d’oeuvres and conversations where they try to one-up each other.
“Two White Russians, please,” I said to the bartender.
With a skeptical gaze, he studied our faces. It was evident that we were both not yet of legal drinking age, not yet twenty-one as his strict expression suggested.
But the amount of money given by these generous donors had him looking the other way.
“Of course, ma’am,” he said.
“Are we really doing this?” Liria asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“Yes. Quit worrying what your parents think.”
The bartender busied himself with our order, expertly measuring vodka, Kahlua, and cream into a shaker filled with ice. He finished the drinks and sat them in front of us.
“Enjoy.”
I took a sip of mine while Hilaria tentatively held hers.
“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to,” I said, taking another sip of my drink.
“No! I’m going to.”
She brought the glass to her mouth, and just as she was about to take a drink, a gunshot pierced through the room.
I wasn’t good at many things. Fortunately, one of the few items in my repertoire was working well under pressure.
My drink slipped from my hand, shattering on the floor as I pulled Liria towards the safety of the bar. The sound of gunshots reverberated through the hall, growing increasingly louder.
“What’s going on?!” she asked, her eyes growing wide with fear.
“I’m not sure.”
Bullets continued to echo through the large hall. They shattered the mirrors and bottles in the bar, sending shards of glass raining down on Liria and me as we crouched behind the bar.
It seemed never-ending. I crab walked backwards to get us to the center of the bar, and fell backwards over a soft object. The bartender hadn’t been so lucky. He had a gaping hole in the right side of his forehead.
Liria screamed at the gruesome sight.
We were about to be completely screwed. There were obvious bullet prints in the thin metal bar, and if we got another round or two, it would pierce it and hit Hilaria and I.
“We need to get out of here,” I said.
“Are you insane? We’ll get shot!”
I had a plan. It was a stupid plan that might not work, but it was something. I fumbled under the bar for spare materials. An open bottle of Jack, a rag to clean the top of the bar, and a lighter.
I poured the Jack on the rag and shoved half of it in the bottle.
“Oh my god,” she said.
“Get ready to run, Liria,” I said, pointing to the door leading to the kitchen.
If I was religious, I would have said a prayer as I popped up from the bar. I launched my Molotov cocktail towards a large table covered in beautiful - and extremely flammable - linens.
It landed with a resounding thud and immediately burst into a towering flame, casting an eerie glow over the surrounding area. Gunfire stopped, and the assailants froze in their tracks as they tried to make sense of the sudden explosion. The air was thick with the acrid smell of burning fuel and fear, adding to the tension and chaos of the situation. The flames danced and crackled, illuminating the bewildered expressions of the attackers as they scrambled to react to this unexpected turn of events. It was a chaotic scene, filled with noise and confusion, but amidst it all, the fire raged on with fierce intensity.
“Go, go, go!” I said.
Fueled by adrenaline and fear, we tore through the door and sprinted into the kitchen. Our frantic footsteps echoed off the tile floor as we darted past countertops and appliances. Dishes clattered and pots rattled in our wake as we sprinted to an unknown destination.
With a sharp turn, we burst into the laundry room, our hearts pounding in our chests. The scent of detergent and fabric softener filled the air as we scrambled to find an escape.
I yanked Liria into one of the oversized bins hotels use for the laundry. We landed on towels that had already been used and were now dirty from previous hotel guests.
“Let’s just,” I gasped, tired from running. “Wait here.”
Her chest was heaving as hard as mine, as exhausted as I was. She looked at me, and for the first time in a long time, she smiled at me.
“You really are mad, Luciana.”
“Ha,” I responded. “Probably.”