Chapter 8 #4
They both look at me, frowning because of my instructions. I raise an eyebrow at them, and they just nod and go to their apartment to change. We leave the house, heading for Oxford Street in a black armored SUV. As soon as the car is parked, we start our search.
“How about we help you choose the clothes you’re going to wear to university?
” Aurora asks the two men who are following our every move.
“You clearly need help looking like students; how old are you?” I look at them, and they’re wearing cloth pants and a shirt, shoes, only have taken off their blazer and tie, clearly don’t look like two students.
“I’m twenty, and Paolo is twenty-two!” Francesco says with a serious face. I look at them a little surprised; they seem to be at least twenty-six years old, and they seem much more mature than men their age. I think that’s what distinguishes normal men from the honorable men of the mafia.
“I would have sworn you were older!” Aurora says, inspecting them from top to bottom, making me elbow her on the arm to make her shut up, causing Leticia to laugh. Paolo and Francesco don’t show any reaction or annoyance at her words; they seem perfectly untroubled.
I shake my head in denial as Aurora makes a “whatever” gesture at my rebuke. We enter several men’s clothing stores, dragging both with us and making them try on a huge amount of clothes.
“I’m sorry, Miss Chiara, but there’s no way I’m wearing this!” announces Paolo, frowning, looking at a black Celine Hodie, making me sigh loudly in disapproval; we’ve been trying to buy clothes for them for over an hour, and they’re obviously not helping.
“Why not?” I ask, slightly irritated; it’s a basic suit, black as they demanded it to be, okay, not an Armani suit, but at least a Celine .
“I honestly feel ridiculous wearing that; it’s not the kind of clothes men like us wear,” Francesco says, making Paolo nod. I roll my eyes at them both, making my friends laugh at the situation.
“For God’s sake, you’re twenty; this should be what you wear, not full suits!” I blurt out, but they’re managing to tear away all my patience. I’ve never seen anyone so difficult when shopping.
“We’re men of honor; we don’t wear these rags!”
“These rags are Celine, and you will wear them, Hodies, Swetshirs, T-shirts, jeans, and sneakers. I don’t care if you like it or not, and if you say “no” one more time, I swear I’ll call Luca and make him force you to wear it.
Is that clear?” They just nod, clearly in displeasure.
“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to force anyone into anything, but the deal was that you would blend in, and with these clothes, it becomes impossible; you scream mafia and security!
” I state in frustration, causing them to soften their expression and nod in understanding.
“Do the clothes really have to be all black?” I ask quietly toward the two men in front of me; they just nod, making me sigh.
“Why is that? It’s too much black; they look like they’re mourning…”
“Black is the color that best disguises blood!” Francesco says with a shrug, making me widen my eyes and look around, trying to see if anyone has heard his answer.
“I don’t know why I still bother to ask!” I shake my head in denial, seeing him indifferent to my words. After two hours of shopping for both men, with many complaints and dislike looks, we finally entered the women’s stores.
“What are you buying, Chiara?” Leticia asks, wrapping her arm in mine, making Paolo look at our arms in despise. I glance at him so that he doesn’t interfere; after all, being too close to me outside the house is against protocol, as it could delay them if they have to remove me from the premises.
“I was thinking of a Chanel set, but I’m not sure!”
Aurora sighs and gives me a mocking smile. “Have you noticed that you wear Chanel all the time?”
I look at her and feel my cheeks getting hot. Am I that obvious? I ask myself. She smiles at me and shakes her head in the negative, dragging me toward the Chanel store. As soon as we entered the store, an attendant walked up to us with a big smile on her face.
“Good morning, welcome to Chanel. May I offer you a glass of champagne?” I just nod, seeing Aurora accept and Leticia watching her laugh amusedly.
Aurora looks at me with a questioning look, and I just signal to her that it’s too early for alcoholic drinks; she just shrugs her shoulders and takes another sip. “And the gentlemen?”
“Did I said you look old in those clothes? You don’t even look like you’re in your 20s!” says Leticia, winning a frowned look from them,
“What can I do for you?” asks the helpful and smiling attendant, looking in our direction.
“I want to see some outfits from the spring/summer collection!” I say, looking around, trying to see if any pieces catch my eye.
“Do you have a color preference?”
“No, I just want something more modern.”
“How about a set with a crop top?” she asks with a smile, making me wonder if her cheeks don’t hurt from smiling at the end of the day.
“Sounds good!” I say, following her into the VIP room and sitting down on a sofa while she selects some outfits.
After trying them all on, I choose a tweed outfit, a crop top with straps and three large silver buttons in the center, a short, tight skirt also made of tweed with a button on each side, and a short blazer in the same fabric, all in a light blue that reminds me of the sky.
I look at myself as a whole, and I like what I see; I feel beautiful and elegant but modern. I look at my friends, and they smile and raise their thumbs in approval. I sneak a peek at the two men accompanying us, but the only thing I can read on their faces is boredom.
We only get home from shopping late afternoon, and when I enter the house, I see my brothers sitting on the sofa with lots of snacks around them while they watch football.
Paolo and Francesco come in after us, carrying dozens of bags from several stores, their expressions clearly of pain.
Probably wondering why they’ve been assigned to my safety, I look at them with pity as they put the bags down on the dining table.
“I can see the shopping was profitable.” Says Vincenzo with a sarcastic grin while looking at the body guards standing by the dining table.
“Don’t provoke me!” I warn him, giving him a light tap on the head and sitting down next to him. “Tell me you haven’t spent the day on this sofa.” Neither says a word, making me shake my head in denial.
“What do you say we go out for dinner so those two can get out of the house?” Leticia asks with a teasing smirk, looking in my brother’s direction.
I see Aurora walk toward the body guards and smile at them. “We can go to Little Italy as a way of saying thank you for all the bags you carried today.”
“Sounds good to me; Italian food would be good, to be honest!” says Lorenzo as he gets up, followed by Vincenzo to change.
“You miss Italy? I mean, as members of the mafia, you probably don’t leave the country much.”
“We only leave the country on small missions if necessary,” Paolo replies with his usual serious countenance.
I glaze at them and wish I could read their minds, are they sad?
Upset? Or something like that, because of me, they’ve been taken away from their families, their regular jobs, maybe their girlfriends.
“You must hate me for taking you away from your family and country!” I whisper with regret in my voice; so many people’s lives are changing because of me, without them having a choice.
Francesco looks at me with acknowledgement, as if something inside him understands me and respects my words.
“It’s an honor to protect you; the fact that we’re here proves the trust that our Capo and Luca have in our work; protecting the future wife of a Capo is a great recognition within the Camorra. ”
“I still kept you away from your family!”
“Every man of honor knows that from the moment he takes the oath, being at the disposal of the Camorra is a duty; the Camorra is also our family.”
I nod, thinking about how much these men gave up and swore for the institution; they swore loyalty and availability to die for the mafia; they can “walk” right in, but death is the only way out.
Then the realization hits me: after marrying Luca, I also will only leave the Camorra if I die; we’ll be together until the painful end.
I awake from my thoughts at Vincenzo’s voice and follow him toward the door, not really paying attention to the conversation, still wrapped up in my own thoughts.
I feel Paolo’s stare on me; he seems to be evaluating me; he offers me one of his rare smiles, a smile that I read as consolation; he wants to show me that everything is fine, and inside, I am grateful for that.
When we arrive in Little Italy , I feel like I can breathe again. The colors, the aroma of Italian food, and the people speaking in Italian around me make me smile, and I feel at home.
We enter a wood-fired pizza restaurant, and as soon as we sit down, olives, a cold cuts board, bruschetta, carpaccio, and focaccia are placed on the table, as well as a bottle of red wine that one of the boys ordered.
I take a piece of bruschetta and close my eyes, enjoying the taste that spreads through my mouth.
I see Paolo and Francesco’s approving glances toward the food and realize that I must not be the only one feeling at home.
We made the most of our dinner with everything we were entitled to.
At the end of the meal, the owners, a nice couple, sat down at our table and started chatting, speaking Italian, and hearing Italian spoken through laughter seemed to do Paolo and Francesco good; they seemed to be in their natural habitat, and I made a mental note to come here for dinner every week to ease their homesickness.
“Which food do you prefer, Italian or Portuguese?” Francesco asks, looking at me and my brothers.
“I can’t choose!” my brothers just nodded in agreement. “Have you ever eaten Portuguese food?” I asked, imagining the answer and seeing them both deny it.
Aurora looks at them, a little shocked. “You definitely don’t know what you’re missing; we’re going to have to take you to a Portuguese restaurant; it’s ridiculous that they live with us and don’t know what Portuguese food is.”
I nod, laughing at the indignant expression on Aurora’s face.
After we got home, everyone went to their own room.
I go into the room without turning on the light; it’s lit by the night lights of the city that come in through the window and the little stars that decorate the ceiling.
I lie down on the bed, on the blankets, and look up at the ceiling, trying to find an answer to a question I don’t have.
I get up and put on my pajamas, close the blinds and turn on the light, pick up the first book I find on the shelf, and sit on the bed with my legs covered, diving into the reading.