6. Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Isabella
M y brother, Fredo, leans back in the driver’s seat and glances over at me with a smug look in his eyes.
“What makes perfect princess want to walk on the wild side? Huh?”
I roll my eyes; how is it possible for a man to be in his mid-twenties and still behave like a fifteen-year-old? I don’t give him an answer because I’m torn between insulting him and telling him the truth. I’d love to be able to trust my family, but that ship sailed a long time ago.
“Iz, come on, I’m genuinely asking. You haven’t asked me about the business since we were teenagers.”
“You never told me the truth, anyway.”
Streetlights illuminate us on either side as Fredo slows the car to a cruise. He glances at me and then back at the road.
“Ah, what do you want from me? Dad would have gone crazy if I shared any of it with you. You know what he’s like. I didn't have a choice.”
That didn’t stop him from taunting me about it for the entirety of our teenage years.
“If you’re hoping you can get a piece of the action, you’re gonna be disappointed. Dad would never let a woman into the business.”
The business. That’s all I ever hear. The business , this fictional concept that means we live like royalty. The thing our lives are built on that we can never talk about, as if my genitals make me oblivious to the mountain of skulls that prop up the house we live in.
“I’m not trying to be a capo, Fredo. Jesus Christ, how dumb do you think I am?”
Fredo shrugs as he takes a slow turn across West Brink bridge. A canal meanders through the city, and this bridge is the key point on every map that understands the underworld controlling Righteous Cove. Religious settlers founded righteous Cove, hence the "I will smite the unholy" vibe to the name. It started off as a trade post on the coast and grew from there. From priests, to traders, to criminal bosses. How times change. Now, on one side of the river, my dad, Don Leonardo, rules everything from petty crime to big business. On the other side, the Sidorov Bratva has control. The O'Shea family used to have a stake in the North, but they've "legitimised" in the last decade. It's a small city, but it's positioned perfectly for drug trafficking, and houses some key swing voters in political elections — prime real estate for crime families.
I’ve travelled to different countries, I’ve explored every aspect of “our” side of the city, but I’ve never crossed this bridge. Like every other adventurous girl, I wanted to go wherever I wasn’t allowed to go. However, the one time I stepped foot on this bridge, I felt a magnetic pull preventing me from crossing the invisible threshold. It’s like my body knew there was no going back if I crossed. Maybe it was my age and the fact my dad felt like an all-powerful, vengeful spirit, so I was too afraid to break his rules. Part of me felt like he’d have some invisible sense that alerted him the moment I disobeyed him. Sometimes it still feels like that now.
One day, dad took Fredo across the bridge because he had to become a “man”. When he came back my brother was gone, replaced with the sleaze ball I’m struggling to trust today.
“Well, I don’t know what you do. You didn’t go to fucking college, your job is to sing shit other people wrote for you. How smart can you be?”
I would introduce him to the concept of emotional intelligence, but I’m afraid he’ll crash the car trying to figure it out.
I glance out at the moonlight bouncing off the water, tracing the spirals of light until they disappear from view. “Fuck you, Fredo.”
He holds his hand up. “What? I’m the bad guy now?” I don’t answer. “You not gonna tell me why you’re here? You know, I don’t have to bring you along. If dad finds out you’re here, who gets in trouble?” He’ll shout at Fredo for twenty minutes, that’s it. For me, he’ll take all my electronics, stop me from leaving the house for a month and demand I help at the church. But yeah, this is so risky for Fredo.
“Look, I get to come and see what a job is like. You get to use my car to impress whatever girl you’re seeing.”
“It’s two, right now.” Fredo interjects with a self-satisfied grin, as if that’s meant to impress me.
“- Right. That’s the deal. It’s not my car, plus all my secrets.”
“If those are all your secrets, you’re living a boring life.”
Oh, Fredo, if you knew half of my secrets, you’d run straight to dad smiling like the Cheshire cat.
We fall back into silence as Fredo drives us through buildings I’ve never seen before. The architecture is a little more intricate, as if the buildings are all much older. It’s weird, feeling like a stranger in your own city. His body tenses as we take a turn away from the finer looking buildings and into a part of town that better reflects the image dad painted of this side of Righteous Cove. Streetlights stretch out further from one another. The people walk with distrust in their step, and the air shifts to a simmering danger I’ve been searching for half my life.
Fredo pulls up the car slowly, taking double glances as if he expects us to be jumped any moment. He reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out his gun, checking it’s loaded before slipping it into a holster strapped to his chest.
“Okay, here’s the deal. You stay here, and you watch. Don’t get out of the car. Don’t make any noise. Don’t draw any attention to yourself.”
“What? That’s not the deal! You said I could come with you. I don’t want to sit back and watch. I want to be a part of it! What’s the point in bringing me if I have to wait here?”
Surprise hits my brother’s face, even though I explicitly said that when he agreed to take me. He rolls it over in his mind before shrugging.
“Suit yourself, but if shit gets out of hand, don’t expect me save you.”
He really thinks I’m delusional.
“I won’t hold my breath.” I hiss through gritted teeth.
Armed with a sharp tongue and freshly done nails, I step out of the car with Fredo, following his lead. He grabs a black holdall from the trunk of the car and slings it over his shoulder before continuing.
“Who are we meeting?” My heart picks up as we reach the foot of a grimy building. Maybe this isn’t a good idea. I stopped trying to prove myself to my family years ago, so why am I here? What’s the point? To prove to myself I’m more than the “perfect daughter”? To feel like I belong in this fucked up family? I’m not sure myself. Maybe I just want to make my own mistakes, for once.
“Anastasia Volkov. She runs the trading deals for the Bratva on their gun shipments. Dad wants to see if we can persuade her to change sides.”
“He sent you for that?” I don’t hide the disbelief in my voice.
Fredo scowls at me. “He might have.” He says indignantly.
“Did he?”
“No.”
I can’t stop the giggle escaping from my lips. Fredo’s jaw tenses and he sniffs, which he always does when he’s embarrassed.
“This is just a routine deal, but we have to make sure she knows who she’s dealing with. If she doesn’t respect us, she’ll never join us.”
“Sure.”
Fredo presses a buzzer next to the door, scowling to himself. The buzzer croaks out, and the door unlocks, and we disappear inside the old building. Fredo leads me through a dusty corridor to a winding staircase with a wooden banister. We descend into the depths of the building, leading all the way to the basement. A single black door stands ominously at the foot of the stairs, its paint job sleek in contrast to the cobwebs and dust of the building.
The door opens as we reach the bottom of the stairs and we’re greeted by a tall, lean woman with a sharp nose and intelligent eyes.
“Anastasia, you look beautiful!” Fredo goes for a hug which is stiffly received. Sometimes I wonder if my brother knows he’s meant to be a mafioso.
Fredo moves, and Anastasia lays her eyes on me. A hint of a smirk tugs at her thin lips, but she doesn’t indulge. “Who are you?” A heavy Russian accent covers her words, but not the recognition in her eyes.
“This is my sister.” Says Fredo with a salesman’s smile, as if I’m part of the deal he’s about to make.
Anastasia nods, but her eyes stay on me.
“Isabella.” I hold out my hand because it’s the only thing that feels appropriate. She glances at it like I’ve just spat in her food, but delicately shakes my hand, anyway.
Despite the sleek door, the room isn’t glamorous at all. A circular table stands under a single, dim light that hangs in the centre of the room. I can just make out wooden crates and stacks of old furniture in the circle of shadows the yellow light doesn’t reach. Smoke trails from a stubbed out cigarette in an ashtray on the table, leaving an unpleasant smell in the room.
Fredo barrels ahead, taking one of the chairs around the circular table and reclining back like he owns the place. I take the chair next to him. Is this what all deals are like? Quiet rooms haunted by shadows and the smell of smoke?
Anastasia walks around us, taking her seat across the table. That’s when I notice the tarot cards sprawled out in front of her. I’ve never really engaged with tarot, but it’s something that always grabbed my natural curiosity.
“Do you read cards?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
Anastasia always seems to be on the verge of a knowing smirk, and this time she allows herself a grin. “My grandmother taught me when I was a girl.”
“You really believe in that horseshit?” And whatever mood was building is thoroughly ruined by my brother’s big mouth.
“What I believe and what you believe are in different worlds.” She picks up her cards slowly, saving the fool for last. I catch her eye and see that knowing smirk floating there. “Lets get to business. You have the money?” She asks.
Fredo nods, placing the black holdall on the table and unzipping it to reveal piles of money inside.
“I’ll count this, then give you the location.” Anastasia pulls the bag towards her, but Fredo springs forward, clutching onto it.
“No. Location first. You think I’ll trust you to take this into the back room? What, and run off with it?” Great job on charming her, moron.
Anastasia, calm as ever, lets go. “Fine, I will count here.”
Fredo smiles, nodding to himself like he’s just won a debate. “Alright, good.” He looks at me for support, but receives a scowl. “What, this not what you were expecting, little miss perfect?” he asks in a mocking voice.
The air in the room shifts, like his tone woke up a sleeping dragon. Even Fredo feels it, glancing around nervously and resting his hand on his pocket where he keeps the switch blade he takes everywhere.
“Ignore him.” I say to Anastasia, ignoring Fredo. Silence falls into the room as Anastasia goes about counting the money in the bag.
I glance at the pack of cards again, unable to stop my curiosity. “Do you take readings?”
Anastasia looks up, “for a price.”
“Of course.” Shouts Fredo with a laugh. “Why would the made up bullshit be free? They have to lie to you and rip you off.”
Anastasia glares at him. She opens her mouth, but then stops, her eyes flitting over his shoulder to the space directly behind us. Her eyes go down and she keeps her tongue quiet, returning to counting the money. Fredo laughs to himself, but I don’t think it’s him she went quiet for. I glance back, scanning the shadows. The furniture makes it look like a host of demons are quietly watching, waiting for us to make a deal with the devil. I can’t make out the shapes, but a glimmer through the wafting smoke catches my attention. It looks like a set of eyes.
“Hurry up. I don’t have all day.” Moans Fredo. “I have to get my sister back home before you convince her you have magic bits of paper.” He laughs to himself.
“At least I can believe in something. What do you have? You go to church once a month and you haven’t believed since your were fifteen.”
He taps his forehead with his index and forefinger, “because I’m too smart for it. I know the truth.”
“You know what dad lets you know.” I hiss back.
“Shut up. I don’t take lessons from idiots.” He waves his hand dismissively at me and Anastasia, playing the big shot. I’m about to slap some sense into him when a deep voice rumbles out from the back of the room, making Fredo and I jump out of our skin.
“If you want my business, you’ll learn some respect, little De Rossi.”
We snap our heads around to focus in on the voice. I find the eyes from moments ago; has he been looking at me the whole time? Fredo is deathly still. He must recognise the voice.
Anastasia counts out the money, slapping the bills against the table to fill the silence. Fredo hovers his hand over his knife, a tremble finding its way into his fingers.
A light sparks in the darkness. The vicious eyes trained on me are bathed in orange light for half a moment. I see sharp cheekbones, broad shoulders and murderous energy. The light disappears as soon as it arrived, replaced by the small circle of orange at the end of a freshly lit cigarette. I think he’s looking at me. Why is he looking at me with so much intensity? My brother is the one being disrespectful.
“I was just joking.” My brother laughs nervously.
The figure leans forward, tantalisingly close to the light exposing us. I can’t see his eyes, but I feel them on me. He’s pinning me in place. I’ve felt this feeling before, and that’s when it clicks that I’ve heard this voice before, too.
“Who are you?” I blurt out.
Anastasia stops counting the money for a moment and Fredo flashes me a look. No, I’m not insane. I just need to know.
“Sorry, she doesn’t understand. It’s nothing, really…” My brother blubbers out excuses. Who can make him drop his pride so quickly?
“It’s all here.” Anastasia stops counting the money and looks over to the presence in the shadows. She walks over to him, disappearing into the dark. We wait, holding our breath together until she returns with two folded pieces of paper. One she gives to me, the other she gives to Fredo.
“What’s that?” he asks.
“The location for the weapons.” Replies Anastasia.
“No, that.” Fredo points to the paper in my hand.
“That’s not for you.” The deep, velvet voice from the shadows returns, sending a shiver down my spine. Fredo gulps, glancing at the paper and then back at Anastasia. Sweat trickles across his forehead, until he makes a snap decision.
“We have other business to attend to.” Fredo snatches my hand and drags me to my feet. I hesitate, but the panicked look in his eyes brings me back to sanity.
I glance back at the figure one last time, but he’s impossible to make out. Despite that, it doesn’t stop the weight of his gaze from making me hyper aware of every little movement I make. Even my breathing catches in my throat until Fredo drags me out of there. Without him, I might have been frozen to the spot forever.
Fredo won’t tell me who owns the voice. He doesn’t even ask to see the message on the piece of paper. He doesn’t even acknowledge what happened. We drive home in silence, and he acts like the night never occurred. Who could possibly scare my brother like that?