Chapter 7
NIC
“ W here the fuck are you? I got the Lombardi brothers waiting on you at the club.” Dario sounds pissed.
“I’m just on my way, waiting in traffic,” I lie while looking over the lifestyle section in the quaint, little bookstore I’m at. I admire the building every time I drive past it and often wonder what it might be like to be the person who can sit on a snug-looking Chesterfield, flipping through the pages of a book without a care in the world. I’ve never been a fan of the written word, so up till now I’ve never had a reason to pay this place a visit. But today, it seems, I do.
“Just hurry up and get there, they’re already on edge about the way Jacopo Ciccone treated their uncle, they need to be assured that we’ve got things under control,” Dario tells me.
“I’m on it, don’t worry.” I hang up the phone and notice the woman behind the counter looks shocked when I dump the huge pile of books I’ve gathered in front of her.
“Morning sir,” she smiles politely, starting to scan each of their barcodes.
“Morning.” I check my surroundings cautiously, though I doubt I’d see anyone I know in a place like this.
“You do realize, sir, that most of these books will contain the same information?” She holds up the Pregnancy For The First Time Parent beside The Pregnancy for Dummies books.
“I get that.” I nod back, flicking through the bills in my wallet and slamming a wad on the counter.
“Just checking.” She holds up her hands in defeat and continues to ring up the twelve books that are in front of her.
“So, when’s she due?” she smiles.
“Oh, I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl, yet,” I explain, getting progressively uncomfortable. I didn’t come here to make small talk, just to buy some books.
“I meant your partner.” I can see that she’s amused by my misunderstanding.
“Oh…She’s six weeks.”
“Feeling like she can’t keep anything down, I expect.” The woman raises her eyebrows like she’s talking from experience.
“Yes… and that's why I need the books. I Googled what to feed a pregnant woman for breakfast earlier, and so much came up that I didn’t know where to start.” I don’t know why I’m suddenly confiding in this stranger. Maybe it’s because she’s a stranger. With her, I don’t have to pretend that I’ve got it all together. I don’t have to disguise the fact that I’m freaking the fuck out.
“Well, I’m sure your partner will be very impressed with your commitment to research,” she adds.
“She’s not my partner, in fact, up until yesterday she was just my little sister’s annoying best friend.” I slide my hand through my hair while she piles my purchases into a brown paper bag.
“I see.” The cashier nods, not knowing quite what to say.
“Now, she’s going to be the mother of my child. A child .” I repeat in case she didn’t hear me the first time. “She’s acting like she’s okay with all this, but she can’t be. She hates me, the baby’s making her sick, and she’s got a degree to finish. I just feel like if I can grasp an idea of what we’re dealing with, I might be able to handle it better.”
“What’s she studying, dear?” A gentle voice comes from behind me and I turn around to see a tiny, old lady waiting in line behind me.
“I couldn’t tell you. And that’s another thing, I don’t know anything about her. I never took the time to find out because I never envisioned being in a situation like this.”
“Well, the fact you're here, buying these books is a good start,” the cashier tells me, handing the two bags containing the books over the counter to me.
“She’s right.” The old lady nods her agreement.
“Though, there is something my husband could teach you about managing a pregnant woman that those books won’t.” She looks across to the Chesterfield couch where a smartly-dressed old man is carefully sitting himself down.
“Just remember, she’s always right.” She rests her hand on my arm and winks.
“I second that.” The woman behind the counter adds.
“I appreciate the advice.” I look between them both before taking my books, and heading out the door to explain to the Lombardi boys how I intend to kill the man who ripped off their uncle.
“That's a long range, Conte, are you sure you won’t miss?” The older brother looks unconvinced as he sips from the tiny espresso cup in his hand.
“I never miss,” I assure him.
If there was one thing my father could be proud of me for, it was my shooting skills. His father was a sniper in the Italian special forces, and although he never quite followed in his footsteps, his brother, my uncle, did. He was a trained killer and a very skilled marksman before he died. I spent many summers with Uncle Demetri, and he taught me from a young age how to shoot, then as I got older he taught me how to kill.
My father wanted me to be able to protect our district, but in the end, it was Thadeo DeMarco’s politics that destroyed us. No skills I learned from my uncle could protect us from that. After the district got taken from us, and my father died, I started putting my talents to good use. I could earn big from the jobs I was prepared to do, and when my sister’s husband found out, not only was he furious, but he decided to hire me for himself. What my sister or her friend don’t know, and can never find out, is that for the past year, I have been Dario Demarco’s private enforcer.
He took a leap of faith in me after he took over from his father, he trusts me to help protect his name, his family, and his reputation. I’m the man who always gets his hands dirty. I torture men. Some, I slice open, some I look in the eyes as I pull the trigger, and some I sneak up behind. All that matters is that I get the job done.
“This can’t come back on us, Dario has assured us–”
“Jacopo has pissed off enough people in his lifetime.” I save them their breath. “This will not look like your average, mafia execution. The weapon I will be using and the distance it will be fired from will make this appear to be a professional hit. There will be many suspects, celebrities, politicians, all of which would have motives to hire that kind of assassin,” I point out.
“Your talents seem endless, Mr Conte,” The brother with the angry scar on his left cheek stares through me.
“We all have our talents.” I scoop up the envelope that's on the table. “I assume this is a down payment.” I flick through the cash, wondering when I became a sub-contracted killer. Up until now, the only men I’ve killed for Dario are the ones who have wronged him. But, I’ve learned it does not do well to question Dario’s motives, so I will take the Lombardi brothers' money and I will kill the man that they want dead.
“It is strange to be here during the day.” The other brother looks around the impressive space. “Not quite the same if you're not getting your dick sucked,” he laughs. “I say we sample some of your brother-in-law’s supply and seal the deal.”
“Of course,” I call Sabrina over with two of my fingers and she picks up a tray that's already loaded, then I watch the brothers bury their heads and get stuck in. Eventually, they slide the tray across to me. I think about all the things I have to do today, one of which involves picking Lorna up, and shake my head in refusal. It would be easy to kick back and forget my troubles. But, suddenly, life just got very fucking serious and I need my head screwed on for it.
“Your man will be dead by the end of the week. Please stay as long as you like, Sabrina can organize some female entertainment for you if it is what you want. Unfortunately, I have business to tend to. ” I shake the brothers' hands politely before heading toward the staff-only door. Then picking up the two brown paper bags I left beside it, I head up into the office to do some reading.
“So, how was your day?” Lorna looks a lot perkier when she hops into the front seat of my car.
“Busy,” I explain, pulling off and heading toward home. Why the fuck am I starting to feel nervous when I’m around her. Like I’m scared I’ll say the wrong thing.
“What did you have for lunch?” I ask, noticing the tiny smirk she makes when I take the route she suggested this morning.
“I had a chicken salad and a ermmmm...”
“A what?”
“I’m thinking a minute.” She looks across at me impatiently. She’s only been in the car a few minutes and I’m annoying her already. I’d usually find enjoyment in that. I always liked being under her skin. But I don’t want her getting all mad and worked up now. I only want my baby to feel good vibes.
“How hard can it be to remember?”
“Well, is it even important?” She frowns.
“Of course, it’s important, you’re in your first trimester and you should be getting 1,800 calories a day.” I reel off some of the knowledge I’ve picked up from the Dad’s Guide To A Healthy Pregnancy.
“It was a Tootsie Roll.” She looks a little sheepish as she sinks into her chair.
“A tootsie roll?” I shake my head.
“And a salad,” she reminds me.
“Okay.” I shrug. “So…I was thinking salmon for tonight, it’s a brain food,” I explain, checking the timer and seeing that this route is undeniably faster.
“A what?” She giggles.
“I don’t know, I guess the Omega 3 is good for the brain or something. Do you not want a smart kid?” I know I’ve spent far too long reading this afternoon when I start wondering if kale or spinach would be best as a side.
“Nic, our baby is already going to be smart. I left high school with straight As and you scored real high on that IQ test Serena made us do that one Christmas.
“What fun that was.” I roll my eyes when I’m reminded of it.
She’s right though, I was so proud of myself that Serena printed me off a certificate saying I was officially the cleverest in the family. When I look back to those times, I don’t remember what I got for Christmas that year, or what color the walls in the living room were. I forget the names of the family my father always gave an invitation to, but I do remember how her hair always smelt like coconuts, and how her lips shimmered from the new lip gloss Madalina had got her. I remember thinking how much she’d developed, even since the last time I’d seen her. Lorna’s tits always looked big compared to her tiny frame, but the top she wore that day, which had Santa Slay written across the front of it in red glitter, really made me take notice of them. Which reminds me…
“Have you had any breast tenderness?” I check as we drive across the bridge.
“ What? ” Her head turns and so I can see how horrified she is by my question.
“It’s a common symptom at the stage we're at, it’s how some women first guess they’re expecting. Are your nipp–”
“I am not discussing my nipples, or my breasts with you.” She touches her hands over them protectively.
“Relax, I was just going to suggest that maybe you use a different bra. I hear sports ones are good, they offer the support at the same time as being sof–”
“Nic, are you okay?” This time her whole body turns in the seat as she stares at me.
“I’m fine,”
“It’s just, you’re acting like you swallowed the encyclopedia on pregnancy.”
“There’s an encyclopedia?” The woman in the bookstore never said anything about that.
“Not that I know of… You know what I mean.” She’s getting frustrated again.
“I guess I feel kind of powerless to all this. I need to know what I’m up against,” I admit, tapping my fingers on the wheel when we hit traffic.
“ You feel powerless?” She laughs sarcastically. “Nic, in the past twenty-four hours, I’ve moved in with you, quit my job, and had my car taken away. That's a lot of change for one person to make. And last I checked, I’m the one up against this. I’m the one who can taste metal every time I swallow. I’m the one throwing up and I’m the one who is going to get fat. Oh, and guess who gets to push the human out at the end of all that and is scared to death because she watched a video on YouTube that she now can’t unsee?” She finally takes a breath once her rant is finished.
“Feel better?” I check.
“Yeah.” She looks a little surprised as she nods back at me.
“You want to go to Macey’s and pick up some of those sports bras?”
“Absolutely.” She turns her head back to focus on the road and keeps it held high as I drive on.