23. Alice
23
ALICE
T he car carries me God only knows where while Mario lies on my lap. His head is drenched in sweat, and I saw the blood oozing from the bandage. He was shot in the gut, probably the same time Paolo’s men took me. That must have been what that loud bang was that startled me awake. I’m so na?ve believing that I’ll ever be safe. It isn't that I don’t trust him, but I know how powerful Paolo Gatti is. Maybe Mario has forgotten.
It obviously seems like he’s outmatched, and I know he’s outnumbered. That man must have a small army to be able to keep women caged up like that. I’m so glad Mario helped me get them out of there. They have families and lives to return to. I only pray they are safe and that Paolo can’t go and hunt them down again. That Mario can actually do as he says he will and stop his brother once and for all—but it doesn’t look likely.
I sweep some of his sweat-soaked hair off his forehead, and he moans. He’s in so much pain. It isn’t the activity that made him sweat, but the pain he is pushing through .
“Baby, I’m worried about you. We should take you to the hospital.” My hand trembles as I pluck more sweaty ringlets from his temples and smooth them back.
“No, to the safehouse,” he grunts, and I look up at his friend in the front seat. The driver, whom I don’t know, continues going where he intends to go, and I turn to Mario’s friend.
“You have to see how sick he is. He needs a doctor.” My pleading falls on deaf ears, or at least ignorant ones. He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t turn around or even acknowledge that I’m speaking. I hate this. “Did you hear me? He needs a doctor!”
The shout draws the eyes of the driver upward, and we make eye contact in the mirror for a brief second, but he doesn’t slow, doesn’t turn toward the hospital. The passenger turns over his shoulder and looks at Mario, and I see the frustration in his eyes. He knows Mario needs a doctor too, but he was given strict instructions and he will follow them. It’s the way of these people, and it’s aggravating as hell.
I’m not getting anywhere, but my heart is panicked. I reach for Mario’s pants pockets to search for his phone, but his pockets are empty. He’s soaked in blood with more seeping through every second, and these assholes are going to listen to him and let him die instead of taking him to a hospital to get emergency medical care.
Mario grabs my hand so tightly it hurts, and I wince, but I know he doesn’t mean to hurt me. “Alice, please. I’m taking you to a safehouse where Paolo won’t get to you. Okay?” His words are strained. I can barely hear him.
“No, bud. I need to be with you. Someone has to take care of you. You’re still bleeding. You’re going to die. Please…” My words spill out of my mouth, but he only squeezes harder and starts coughing. I whimper and look for anything to help me. “Fuck’s sake, he’s going to die. Take us to the fucking hospital!” I’m crying now, pleading with them, but they only care about one thing—following orders .
“Safe… house,” he mumbles as if my life is more important than his. I’m the reason he’s in this mess. I’m the reason he’s shot and bleeding and probably dying right here on my fucking lap.
“Please, Mario, no…” I cling to him, leaning down to press kisses to his sweat-slicked skin. He doesn’t understand. I have to get him to safety. I can go with him, stay with him in the hospital until he’s better. Paolo can’t get to me there.
But I don’t get a choice. I’m chauffeured right to a strange apartment building where Mario’s friend opens the door and grabs my arm. He’s not gentle, either. He yanks me out of the car to the street, and I’m still wearing only my panties and a T-shirt, now also soiled with Mario’s blood.
“This way,” the man orders, and I start swinging and clawing, but like the man who took me this morning, this man is far too strong. He grabs an arm and twists it, bending my wrist backward.
“Mario! Please!” I plead, but the driver gets out and shuts the door. Mario is so out of it he can’t stop them. He won’t stop them, anyway. This is his order, to lock me up somewhere he thinks I’ll be safe, but my heart won’t be safe. I’ll sit here being tormented about what’s happening and how I can get to him.
The big man has my arm behind my back, my wrist bent at such a difficult angle that I can’t do anything but let him lead me. We ascend a flight of stairs to the second floor where he bangs on a door.
“I hate you!” I hiss, but he says nothing. His facial expression doesn’t even change. He’s focused and angry.
The door swings open to reveal a curvaceous blonde woman with her hair up in a knot on top of her head. She’s wearing a hoodie and sweats, and she looks strung out—sunken eyes, hollow expression. She looks confused too, like she hasn’t a clue why we’re here.
“What?” she snaps, and the scowl on her face tells me I’m right .
“Special delivery. Keep her here until I get back. Mario’s orders.” The big man isn’t earning any favors with this one. She looks disgusted to see me for a split second, then rolls her eyes.
“Get in here. My show’s on.” She steps aside as the man shoves me forward, and I hear the door being slammed shut as I fall to my knees.
I leap up instantly, turning to run back to the door, but it’s locked and the woman is walking casually to her seat on a beat-up recliner. She plops into it as I yank on the doorknob and smack the door. “Let me out! Come back here!” I scream, but the man is gone. I hear his boots clomping down the stairs. I turn around and face her, and she’s already engrossed in the television which is blaring. “Let me out! You can’t keep me here.”
This place is filthy, trash piled up everywhere, handprints on the walls. I’m disgusted and frightened all at the same time. This is where Mario thought I’d be safe?
“Sorry, babe, Boss’s orders. I gotta listen to him.” She pulls out a vape pen and puts it to her lips, sucking on it. The thing lights up, and she holds her breath for a second and then blows a stream of vapor into the air. I swat at it and cough and lean against the door with my arms crossed over my chest.
I’m uncomfortable and I’ve never felt so alone. I’m angry with Mario. How could he do this to me? I hug myself and shiver. His blood soaks the lower half of this T-shirt, and I just want to get it off my body, but I have nothing to wear, nowhere to wash up. I look around the room. The broken furniture and filthy windows don’t feel like home. They feel like that hell hole of a place Paolo had me in.
“Look, honey, just go have a shower. Over there, on the left.” She points at an open doorway, and I don’t even know what to say to her. I don’t want to have a shower. I want to go home. “I’ll bring you something to wear in a little bit. ”
This woman seems nice enough, but I don’t like the idea of being in the home of a drug addict. How does she know Mario, anyway? And how long have they known each other?
“Go on.” She coaxes me, but I think it’s just so she can watch her show in peace. It’s some sort of game show I’ve never seen before.
I turn toward the open door and wonder if there’s a way out. I don’t know where we are, but I know where the church is. I could run away and hail a cab, but of course, I’d need pants. I move toward the bathroom, and she watches me. I glance over my shoulder every few steps, but something tells me she knows I’ll try to escape. Still, she doesn’t even get up. She probably thinks it’s my funeral if I try and succeed, or maybe she knows there really isn’t a way out of here.
When I step into the bathroom, I’m relieved. Given the state of the rest of this place, I was genuinely concerned that the bathroom would look like a horror film. It’s surprisingly clean, though nothing fancy. There are some dirty clothes on the floor but no window, no way to get out, not even an air vent. The room is heated by a small electric baseboard heater. I roll my eyes and lock myself in, stripping out of the soiled shirt and panties.
The water feels amazing after the horrible day I’ve had, but even the rhythmic pattern of the droplets pelting my skin can’t distract my aching heart. Mario was in such bad shape when they tore me from that car and left me here. I’m so scared he’s going to bleed out and die, that he’ll never get to meet his little baby boy or girl. My hand lowers to my stomach, and I close my eyes and let the water wash over my body.
I stand there thinking about everything that has happened the past few months and how drastically my life has changed. I pleaded with Tom to have a baby with me and gave up when he said it didn’t make sense. It was everything I wanted until my heart started to slowly die. Then I met Mario in the aftermath of such a horrific life event that ruined me. And now I’m getting what I wanted for so long, only I’m not getting it with Tom. In fact, I may not be getting it with anyone. I may be entirely alone for this.
“It’s not so bad, you know?” I hear the woman’s voice as I swipe away a few tears. When I peek out of the shower curtain, she’s there with a bundle of clothing in her hands.
“What’s not so bad?” I ask her. I have no clue what she’s talking about.
“Being with a made man. You know, Mafia life. I’m assuming that’s why you’re here? You’re Mario’s gal?” She lays the stack of clothes on the back of the toilet, and I shrug a shoulder. I don’t know what she knows about him or me, or what I’m supposed to tell her, for that matter.
“Well, I’m just telling you that it’s not so bad. You just have to get past what they do. Outside of that, they’re loyal. You’ll never have to worry about money again. And best of all, there is this entire Family to support you.” She leans against the door jamb and crosses her arms. “I been with Tony for a few years now. He’s a good man. I hear Mario is a good man too, and he’s the Boss, which makes you like the queen or something. It’s a good gig.”
I pick up the faintest hint of her words being slurred as I shut the water off and reach for a towel. I pull it into the shower with me to dry off and then wrap it around my body before stepping out, but she’s gone just as quickly and quietly as she came in. Still, her advice lingers. I just don’t know if I’m cut out for this constant worrying. If Mario makes it out of this, when is the next time he’s going to “war” with someone and put his life on the line? I like him better as a priest.
I dry my hair as much as I can and put the clothes on. The shirt is a bit too big, the pants too short, but I’m thankful to have something. When I walk into the living room, I see she’s picked up a bit. There is at least a spot for me to sit on the couch now, so I perch on the edge and cross my hands on my knees. I don’t know what to say or how to act around her, but this seems to be par for the course for her .
“He’s come back to save us all, you know?” She tilts her head at me as she stands hovering over me with a trash bag in hand.
“Who?” I ask, finally starting to let my guard down.
“Mario.” She nods and continues. “He was dead. We all thought so.” She shakes her head as she speaks, then licks her lower lip. “Now he’s back to save us. Our savior! Hallelujah.” With a smile, she picks up some empty beer bottles and tosses them into the bag.
“You think killing people in cold blood is salvation?” I’m appalled by her insinuation. I don’t know how to react.
“When they’re this type of people, yes.” She’s dead serious. She really believes this, and now I’m cast back into doubt that this is even where I belong. My heart may be screaming Mario’s name and wishing he would come save me, but my mind knows this is all wrong. It isn’t how I want to raise my child, and it isn’t what I want for my life. Not now. Not with Tom. Not ever.
What the fuck have I gotten myself into?