Chapter 1 #2
I sit in the far corner, sipping on a glass of Chianti. I know that there’s a full bar in the other room and I guess I could have chosen hard liquor if I wanted it. I doubt anyone would blame me. Except for Dad, of course. The last thing I need is another sour look from him today.
Analisa sits down next to me. “Shitty day, right?”
I nod. “You hear Dad lay into me earlier?”
“Ignore him. He’s not really himself today.”
I scoff. “Seems pretty on par to me. Daddy’s only son has the nerve to fuck up and this time, it killed him. Time to take it out on his problem child.”
Analisa doesn’t say anything. She just sighs in that way that says she disapproves of what I just said.
“You gotta cut him some slack,” she says after a few seconds.
“Things are… well, they’re tough, you know?
You haven’t been paying attention lately, but the family business isn’t exactly coming up roses right now. ”
I frown and look at her. “What do you mean?”
“Just that you can’t be too hard on him, okay? That’s all I’m saying.”
I want to press her on that. Find out what she means.
And at the same time, perhaps I don’t really want to know.
Our father did his best to keep us girls on the outskirts of his dealings, but over the years it just became more and more impossible.
Information spins like a top in this city.
You can find out a lot just from the right bartender on the right night.
I hear the front door open and I look over just in time to see my father welcoming three men… who shouldn’t be here.
I’ve never been this close to them, but I recognize all three.
The main one is Maxim Mechnikov. Anybody who knew anything about the Mechnikovs knows him.
He’s a big man, tall and muscular with short, dark hair that’s graying at the edges and icy blue eyes.
With him are his two sons, Alexei and Pavel.
Pavel’s like a carbon copy of his dad, except a little shorter and leaner.
He’s got the same dark look about him, though, and the same icy blue eyes.
Now, Alexei… he’s the kind of handsome that’s all trouble. He’s tall and muscular like his dad, but he’s got blond hair that’s slicked and styled into place, short on the sides and long on top. He has a rugged jawline peppered with a well-maintained beard.
I’m not supposed to find any of them attractive, of course.
The Mechnikovs are supposed to be our sworn enemies…
which makes it all the more odd for them to even be here right now.
Just the same, there they are, Maxim all smiles with my dad as they talk.
His two sons flank him like soldiers, hands clasped in front of them in their dark suits, their eyes surveying the area like watchtowers.
I turn away from them with disgust. First, my dad chastises me about showing up late to my brother’s funeral and starts in on me about disrespect, then he turns around and invites our enemies to his funeral! I mean, talk about disrespect. I don’t know if he even knows what the word means.
And I’m just sitting here, stewing and sipping my wine. I catch the eye of one of the waiters. He’s kind of cute, dark hair and kind brown eyes. They look like puppy dog eyes, actually. Wonder if he’s as bored of this whole thing as I am. Bet he’d love to get a drink.
“I’ll see you later, Annie,” I tell my sister, handing her my drink.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Out of here.”
“What do I tell Dad if he comes around looking for you?”
“Tell him I went slutting around town,” I tell her and walk away. The waiter just handed one of my uncles a plate of Ziti and he looks like he’s about to disappear into the kitchen. I catch him before he turns away. “Hey, there. You wouldn’t happen to have a lighter, would you?”
His face reddens a little and he says, “Yeah. I was about to take my break. Wanna join me?”
“I sure do,” I say.
The neighborhood that my father lives in is considered pretty safe, but I think that’s only because he’s there and everyone knows who he is. Growing up here has always been a pretty quiet life. Nobody ever really bothered us around here.
Across the street and on the corner is what used to be a pizzeria.
Now it’s just a building with the windows boarded up and a sign nailed to the front that says FOR LEASE.
It’s an eyesore and I’m sure the neighborhood is up in arms about its still being there, but so far, nothing’s been done about it.
I’m dragging the waiter by the hand toward it. It’s the perfect place to have a smoke and be away from the prying eyes of the neighborhood and my father. If only for a little while.
We get to the alley next to the building and I pull out my pack of cigarettes. He reaches in his jacket pocket and pulls out his lighter, then he offers me a light. I lean in, cigarette in my mouth, and let the flames singe the edge.
I smile as I lean back against the brick wall, taking a drag. “What’s your name?” I ask him.
He lights his own cigarette and says, “Mike. My friends call me Mickey.”
“Like the mouse?” I joke.
He laughs. “Yeah.” But it’s not a real laugh. He’s just being polite. “So, you’re Izzy Pecora, right?”
He already knows my name. That could be a good or a bad thing. “Yeah. I guess you’ve heard of me.”
“Everybody knows you. Word on the block is that you know how to party.”
Alarms are going off in my mind. I take another drag, playing it cool. “I know how to have a good time,” I say. “I mean, Fortune’s been trying to catch up to New York City for years now. I just happen to know where all the good clubs are.”
He nods and his eyes darken. “Let’s cut the small talk. I know all about you and how you like to get down. Word around town is you suck a mean dick.”
Oh, great. I really should learn to trust my instincts more. I put out my cigarette, stomping it out on the ground. “I’d better be getting back.” I turn to walk away and he grabs my arm, yanking me back.
“Hey!” I shout. “Let me g—” My words are cut off as he slams me against the wall. All the air rushes out of my lungs as he presses himself against me and starts kissing my neck. I push against his shoulders, but he’s got all his weight on me. I can’t budge him.
“Get off me!” I growl. He stops kissing me long enough to slap me across the face.
“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” he says. He starts grabbing at my skirt, pulling it up. I slap him back, balling my fists and punching him in the head. He winces a little but keeps going, grabbing at my panties.
I start pulling his hair, grabbing tufts of it and yanking his head back. He hollers and grabs my wrist, twisting his head so that his greasy hair slips out of my fingers. He goes to hit me again, bringing his fist up. I wince…
But everything’s stopped. I open my eyes just in time to see a fist come out of nowhere and crack him across the jaw, sending him stumbling to the other side of the alley, hitting the wall. My savior stands over him for a second as he struggles to stand.
“Get up,” I hear him say.
I watch as Mickey stands on wobbly feet just to be punched again. This time, he’s lifted off his feet and thrown back into the wall. He’s punched in the face over and over and over again until he slides down the wall, his bloodied face unrecognizable.
And then my savior turns to me and I’m looking into Alexei Mechnikov’s stark blue eyes. He’s breathing hard and his chest rises and falls in a rhythmic pattern.
“Your sister’s looking for you,” he says.
I step away from him. His fists are dripping with blood and the muscles in his arms are bulging. Christ, he looks like a fucking monster.
I turn and run back to my father’s house.