11. Chapter 11
Chapter eleven
Liria
I stared at the ceiling, lost in my thoughts. The uncomfortable lumps and unevenness of my air mattress weren’t even registering in my mind.
My heart pounded in my chest as I relived the moment when I almost kissed Ettore. The realization of what almost happened left me dizzy and disoriented. Why did I allow myself to get so close? In the short time we had been together, I had begun to see a different side of Ettore - one that was kind and charming. And under the moonlight, he looked almost too handsome to resist. My mind raced with conflicting emotions as I tried to make sense of it all.
You like him. The little voice in the back of my head whispered. I told it to shut up, again. I needed to figure out how to put a muzzle on it.
I firmly told myself that I did not like him, that it was just a lapse of judgement. As I was repeating it to myself like a mantra, trying to get it to stick, he walked into the room.
“Good morning,” he said.
His hair was ruffled from bedhead, but he still somehow managed to look flawless. Ugh. I felt a brief pang in my chest, the mantra I had been repeating to myself was completely undone.
“Morning,” I responded.
He sauntered towards the kitchen, his broad shoulders and defined back muscles on full display. His skin glistened under the kitchen lights, accentuating every ripple and curve of his toned physique. As he turned away from me to start making coffee, I couldn’t help but admire the way his muscles flexed with each movement.
I covered my eyes with my hands and mentally scolded myself. Ogling him was not something I should be doing.
“You alright?” I wasn’t looking at him, but from his tone of voice I could tell he was amused.
I removed my hands from my eyes and put on my best poker face. “M’fine.”
He turned to face me, the hint of an amused smirk playing on his lips, offset by the concern in his eyes. He looked directly at me, as if trying to read the conflicted emotions that must be visible on my face, though I desperately tried to hide them.
“Good,” he said, turning back to the coffeemaker. “I don’t have to go into work today. What do you want to do?”
“You want to hang out…with me?”
“You’re my wife,” he responded, looking over his shoulder. “Of course.”
I was only his wife on paper and in the eyes of the law. Beyond that, we were nothing but passing acquaintances, cordial at best. We simply…coexisted.
Last night wasn’t coexisting. I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts out of my mind.
Ettore took it as me declining his invitation. “No? Alright, then.”
“No! I mean yes, I want to hang out.”
An hour later, we settled into the seats of the car and headed to a lesser known park. I didn’t like crowds. My father almost never let me be in them growing up, and by doing so I had never adjusted to being around mass amounts of people. I wanted to escape to a place where the only sounds were those of nature, not the chatter of tourists or the honking of cars.
We reached the park and parked the car in an almost empty lot. The park was surrounded by trees that had just began to lose their leaves for the fall. They rustled together on the floor, the wind migrating them in unique patterns.
I let out a sigh of contentment.
“Better than Central Park?” Ettore said.
“Way better,” I said, grabbing the handle to my door and pushing it open.
I slipped out of the car and shut the door behind me, my boots crunching on the gravel underneath. Ettore got out from his side, his height and stride making me feel tiny in comparison.
The vibrant colors of the landscape melded together in a harmonious dance, drawing me further into its spell. It was as if time had stood still in this moment, encapsulating me in a world of pure beauty. As I zoned out, I didn’t hear Ettore urgently trying to get my attention.
A black unmarked van had pulled up beside me, and two men emerged from the vehicle. One drew his gun and pointed directly at Ettore, then a loud shot rang through the air. I watched in horror as Ettore’s chest began to bloom red.
The other man grabbed me roughly from behind and started dragging me towards the van. The powerful grip on my back sent a chill down my spine, and I realized I was in grave danger.
Would Ettore be ok? Another shot rang out, and my stomach sank.
The man’s grip on my neck tightened as he let out a string of curses, and I turned to face the direction of the noise. My stomach churned - the man who shot Ettore lay dead on the floor, a single bullet through his forehead. Blood pooled around him like a dark halo.
“Motherfucker,” the still living henchman hissed at Ettore.
He unholstered his gun, but Ettore got to him first. The bullet whizzed right by my ear and hit the man in the head. His grip on me relaxed, and he fell to the floor.
The driver of the van floored it, his tires kicking up dirt and gravel in his desperate escape. He was not interested in meeting the same fate as his buddies.
I was like a fawn, still frozen in fear. My muscles were locked in place as I stood above the two dead men’s bodies.
“We need to go,” Ettore gasped, clutching his chest.
My eyes trailed to the wound on his chest. “What? No! We need to call 911!” I reached into my purse for my phone and began fishing around.
“Don’t even think about it. You can’t call a government service when you’re in the mafia.” He winced in pain, using the side of the car to steady himself. “Get in the driver’s seat. I’ll give you directions to our doctor.”
“But I can’t—I don’t have a license!” I stammered, still fumbling for my phone.
“No time for that,” he growled, his face contorting in pain. “This isn’t a driving test, Liria. Get. In. The. Car.”
I could barely think. The mere sight of blood had always made me queasy, and Ettore was losing a lot of it. He was staggering now, almost collapsing against the car door.
Swallowing hard, I slipped into the driver’s seat while he fell into the passenger seat. He was panting heavily now, his face pale and clammy.
Ok, ok. I can do this. It was mostly self soothing rather than any belief I could actually accomplish it. I pushed the start button, and the car chimed in response, but the engine stayed silent.
“You need to keep your foot on the brake pedal,” Ettore said. “And put on your seat belt.”
“Er, right.” I clicked the buckle in, and then my second attempt at starting the car proved successful.
The familiar purr of the engine was drowned out by the thunderous pounding of my heartbeat in my ears. My hands shook as I shifted the lever into drive. Ettore reached over and adjusted the rearview mirror to his liking, grimacing from the effort. He slowly released a shaky breath, then slumped back into his seat, grimacing again with pain.
“Take a right out of the parking lot and stay on Genessee.”
Despite my inexperience, the urgency of the situation somehow made me drive better than I thought I could. It wasn’t perfect, but it got the job done. Ettore’s directions were all the navigation I needed as we sped down the unfamiliar roads.
“Here,” he said, directing me to pull into a warehouse parking lot.
Three men, dressed in dark suits with their hands clasped behind their backs, stood waiting out front as we pulled up. I couldn’t help but notice the way they shifted on their feet and exchanged quick glances as we approached. They were expecting us, likely notified by Ettore, who had been constantly texting while I was driving.
I slammed on the brakes a little too hard as I stopped the car and launched our bodies forward.
“Sorry!” I said to Ettore, turning bright red.
He didn’t have time to respond to me. Two of the men were already hauling him out of the car and towards the building.
My heart hurt as I watched them take him inside. Would he be ok? He got hurt because of me. My shoulders slumped, and I leaned forward and placed my head on the steering wheel. I sucked.
The third man tapped on the driver’s side window, a silent command to get out of the car. I nodded, acknowledging his order.
I realized I had no clue how to turn the car off. Asking the man for help would be too humiliating, so I tried to figure it out on my own. If I had to push the brake and press the button to start it, it only made sense that the same thing would turn it off. I tried, and it made a horrible whirring noise.
“Put it in park and then press the button,” he said from outside the car.
My cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but I did as he instructed. The car’s engine shut off, and I stepped out, the man gesturing for me to enter the building.
Normally my throat closed up and I couldn’t speak when I talked to strangers, but I needed to know the answer to my question. “Is Ettore going to be alright?” I asked the man, nearly jogging alongside him to keep up with his pace.
“I’m not a doctor,” he responded flatly.
“But he’s seeing one?”
“Obviously.” We reached a room of chairs and he pointed to them. “Sit.”
I didn’t have any other options. So, I sat, crossing my fingers that Ettore would be ok.