Kingpin (An Italian Mafia Romance) Page 8

  Dad drives slow, like always. He’s never in a rush to get anywhere. Business at River City isn’t going anywhere, and now that Frankie has been arrested, The Family is going to be losing money. Frankie was a good earner and sure to be getting upped soon, so his being arrested will definitely have an impact on us, and just like Dad said, the last thing we need is for the FBI to start coming after Dad, too. Looks like a change is coming.

  We turn onto River City Casino Boulevard and approach the last stoplight on the road leading to the casino. As we drive, Dad looks to me.

  “Listen, we’re only gonna stay here a couple of minutes, alright,” he says. “I’m gonna go make sure everything is good to go, then we’re out. With all this heat getting started, I don’t wanna push my luck by being seen in too many places where our business is being conducted. How about when we’re done here, I take you to go get some ice cream? Sound good?”

  I roll my eyes, but I smile too.

  “Dad, I’m fifteen, not five,” I snip in jest. “But I’m not gonna turn down ice cream.”

  “Ah, that’s what I thought,” he replies behind a laugh. “Wise guy or not, everybody loves ice cream.”

  “Fuhgeddaboutit.” Both of laugh just as the light ahead of us turns red and Dad stops the car.

  While we laugh, a white Honda pulls up to the light next to us. There’s two men inside, staring straight ahead, but I’m not an idiot. Something about them seems off, like they’re trying too hard to look straight ahead. I feel my brow furrow all on its own as I look past my dad at the two guys next to us. I don’t recognize the driver at all, but the passenger looks familiar.

  It takes a second, but eventually my mind finishes flipping through the images of faces I’ve seen recently, and recognizes the guy. Those facial features are what catch my attention: sharp chin, pointy nose, strong jaw clenched tight. It’s the guy who had the balls to try to tax my father a few weeks ago. It’s Sammy Cestone.

  As my memory grasps the name, the stoplight turns green. Dad sees the change in lighting and directs his attention to the road, pressing his foot on the gas just as Sammy’s arm comes out the window holding a black nine millimeter pistol.

  “Fuck! Dad watch . . .”

  Before I can finish the sentence, the nine millimeter explodes into a flurry of gunfire. I immediately duck down and cover my head with my hands as the bullets come flying through the car. There’s glass shattering and I can hear the distinct sound of bullets piercing the metal of the car. The sound is so loud I can’t hear myself think. Panic sets in and tears fill my eyes as I try to dig myself lower and lower into my seat. I can’t seem to get low enough though, and suddenly, a hot stinging sensation rips across the back of my neck, and I feel warm liquid rolling down the back of my shirt. It hurts like hell, but I know better than to move. The shots seem like they last forever, but eventually they stop, and tires squeal as the Honda rushes away.

  Now, there’s silence. Nothing but the terrifying scream of silence and the ringing of my ears. I know I heard the car drive away, but I’m scared to move.

  I open my eyes first. There’s broken glass on the floor beneath me, and a white smoke is hovering through the car as it floats off the bullets and shell casings. I see drops of blood next to my feet just as I rub the back of my neck and wince at the pain. Sure enough, there’s blood all over my fingers when I inspect them. It’s not a hole, so I assume a bullet grazed me as I ducked. It hurts, but I think I’ll be okay. Now, I need to get up.

  “Dad, you good? I saw who it was,” I hear myself say, but my voice sounds muffled and my ears ring louder when I speak. “Dad, I saw them. Dad?” I force myself to sit up and look over at my father, but the second I do, I wish I wouldn’t have.

  My father’s slumped down in his seat, his neck bent down and to the right so much that his head is resting on his own shoulder like a pillow. His entire torso is covered in blood.

  “Oh fuck! Dad!” I scream as I lean over and try to lift his head up, but when I grab his face, my fingers sink into a hole on the left side of his head. I scream when I feel it and let go of him, and his head falls back down to the position it was in. “Oh my god. Oh my fucking god! Dad!”

  I muster up the courage to lean over and look at the other side of his face, because I have to see it. I have to know. When I do, I crumble. There’s two, maybe even three holes—there’s too much blood to tell for sure—in the left side of my dad’s face, and I know there’s no chance he could possibly have survived what I’m seeing.

  I let out an uncontrollable scream that burns the back of my throat. My tears have a mind of their own and come rushing out of my eyes faster than I ever thought possible, as I stare at my hands covered in my father’s blood. I hear police sirens approaching, and there’s bystanders on the sidewalks staring into the car. None of them are doing anything to help, they’re just staring at us. At me. At my dead father. I don’t even bother asking for help, either. They’re obviously too stupid to recognize I need it. Fuck them. Fuck them!

  I look at my father again as I sob uncontrollably. My stomach heaves up and down from the crying, and my heart hurts from the sight of him slumped over, unmoving, breathless, lifeless. I can’t think, I can’t see straight, I can’t move, I can’t live. My thoughts collide and jumble together to form an incoherent mess of words and emotions that multiply over and over again, and produce a hatred and anger I can’t understand. I don’t know if I’m in shock or if I’m just scared and mad. I don’t know anything.

  The sirens get closer and I still can’t move. Soon, the cops will be here and they’ll ask me questions about what happened, and if I saw anything. The same fucking cops who arrested Frankie yesterday, and the same ones who would’ve been coming after my father tomorrow.

  I won’t tell them anything. I won’t tell them about Our Thing, or River City, or my father, or Alfonse Cestone’s death, and I won’t tell them about Sammy Cestone either.

  I won’t tell them it was Sammy.

  It was Sammy.

  Sammy . . .

  My world closes in around me. Alannah’s leaving. My father’s dead. There’s nothing left, and I have no reason to think of anything positive. Everything positive is gone.

  As the cops arrive with their sirens blaring, I look at my father one last time. I think about how his heart is no longer beating, and I realize mine isn’t either. It has gone too cold. Or, maybe it just left my body altogether. I don’t know. I don’t care. Either way, I’ll never be the same. I don’t even want to be.

  Everything good in me has died with my father.

  Alannah

  Dear Dominic,

  Another eight days has gone by, and I haven’t seen or heard from you, so I’m writing you now because I don’t have any other options at this point.

  I’ve called you a bunch of times, but your mom doesn’t answer the phone much, and when she does, I can tell she’s barely even listening to me, and I know she won’t give you the message. I understand why, though.

  Everybody heard about what happened to your dad. I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am, Dominic. I know how much you loved him and how close you were, and I won’t pretend to know what you’re going through right now. I just wish you would’ve talked to me so I could help. But like I said, I understand why you’d want to be alone. My love for you is making me a little selfish, though.

  I miss you, Dominic. I miss the way we talked and how much we made each other laugh over the years. Nothing puts a bigger smile on my face than the night of homecoming. It was the most amazing, special night of my life, and I’ll never forget it. Not ever.

  “Hurry up, Alannah. We have to go. You know I don’t like to rush,” my father yells back into the house. He and my mother are outside talking to the housing inspector, who’s making sure we didn’t leave the house in some terrible condition before we go.

  Today’s the day we leave for Anchorage. I sit in my empty room remembering everything that happened while I lived here. All the g
ood things, all the bad things. The best memories are the ones that involve Dominic. All the nights I spent in here on the phone, talking to him when I knew I wasn’t supposed to because it was late, but my parents were asleep so I did it anyway. I remember how I laid on my bed and thought about him after my first day of school, when he saved me from Billy Hannigan. I remember the day my parents told me we were moving to Alaska, and I came to this room and cried as I realized I was in love with him. Four years of incredible memories that put a smile on my face even as it all comes to an end.

  “Alannah!” my dad barks again, pissed I haven’t answered him.

  “I’m coming, Dad,” I shout back. “I’m just finishing it up.”

  I push away the memories with plans to revisit them later, and put my pen back on the paper.

  I want you to know that the past four years have meant everything to me, Dominic. I don’t take the time we’ve spent together for granted. I’ll never forget the laughs we’ve shared and the stories we’ve told, and the lives we’ve lived together. I hope you don’t forget them either, but I’m worried you will.

  As I get ready to fly to stupid Alaska, I’m worried you’ll forget about everything good we’ve experienced. I’m worried that when I leave, you’ll change, and I’m scared to death of what might happen when I’m gone.

  I need you to hang on to the parts of you that I love. I know there’s things about you that I choose to ignore, but please know that I love EVERYTHING about you. I love your smile, and your sense of humor, and your willingness to open up and be honest. I love your loyalty and your protectiveness. I love your passion. I love YOU, Dominic. Please don’t ever forget that. Don’t forget that I love you, and don’t forget the things I love about you.

  Please don’t forget.

  Who knows, maybe one day we’ll be together again.

  I love you, Dominic. Forever always.

  Love, Alannah.

  I write the last few words on the page and put my pen down, just as my emotions take over and I have no choice but to sob. Not just little baby tears that cloud my vision, but real, heavy tears that are strong and powerful. They overtake my face and make my eyes red and puffy.

  It’s more emotion than I thought possible. Even though I knew this day would come, there was never enough time to prepare for the emotions. There wouldn’t have been enough time in a million years. The fact that I haven’t seen Dominic in over a week makes it even worse, and the fact that his dad died and I haven’t been there to help him through it makes it unbearable.

  I cry as I fold the letter, and I cry as I tuck into the envelope. I cry on my way down the stairs, stopping only to tell my parents I’m okay so they won’t worry, and then I start up again as we drive away, leaving all of my memories of my bedroom behind forever.

  My parents, though, were nice enough to promise to take me to Gloria Giaculo’s house to drop off the letter. I’ve only been over once or twice, but seeing it now makes me feel like it was a second home.

  I knock on the door, but Dominic’s mother doesn’t answer. I clutch the envelope tighter, willing the door to open so I can make sure this letter gets to Dominic, but after five minutes of standing there and my parents telling me we have to go, I finally give up. It’s like everything connected to Dominic has evaporated, and I’m left all alone. I tuck my chin into my chest and meander back to the car, sulking the whole way.

  Just before getting in, I notice the mailbox at the end of the driveway. So, I decide to take a shot in the dark and hope for the best. I place the letter in the mailbox and say every prayer I can think of, hoping with everything in me that Dominic gets it.

  I don’t say a word as we drive to the airport. My parents ramble on about how everything will be okay, and how I’ll make new friends in Alaska, but they don’t understand that it’s not about making new friends, it’s about keeping the only one I really want. It’s about my love for him, and since they can’t understand that I love him, I don’t listen when they tell me I don’t know what love is because I’m only fifteen. They won’t attempt to understand, so I won’t attempt to make them.

  I’m silent when we check in at the counter. I’m silent when we board the plane, and I’m silent when we take off. I want to be silent forever, because everything I’ve grown to love is being left behind.

  As we reach our peek altitude, I say another prayer for Dominic, hoping that since we’re so high and closer to heaven, God will actually listen. I pray the whole flight, but I’ll never know if my prayers are answered.

  Alannah

  “Three, two, one. Happy New Year!”

  The glasses tink together and there’s plenty of hugs as a big 2016 flashes on the screen over and over again. There’s confetti and kisses, and my parents’ house never looked so full of joy. It’s January first, 2016, and I feel more anxious than ever about the future.

  “Alright, alright, everybody gather around,” my mother says, interrupting the happiness. Everyone quiets down and gives her their attention. “Okay, so now that we’ve brought in the New Year, it’s time for the second reason we’re here tonight.”

  The twenty-or-so people in the room all seem to turn to me at the same time. They know what she’s talking about, and I feel a wave of heat rush over me.

  “As you all know,” my mom continues, her purple dress flowing around her ankles. “Our beloved Alannah is moving away to start her own life in the mid-west, and we wanted to take this opportunity to get together one last time to show her how much we love her, and how much we’re going to miss her when she’s gone. I’m going to be worried to death every single day, but I know she has her mind made up, and she’s going to do big things with her life. So, if you all could raise your glasses one more time for my baby girl, Miss Alannah Sullivan. Cheers.”

  The group of friends I’ve made over the past ten years raise their glasses towards me and say “Cheers” in unison, followed by a loud applause I wasn’t expecting.

  “Speech!” someone shouts from the back, then a few more people repeat it, egging me on.

  “Come on, Alannah. Give us a speech,” my mother says, adding to the peer pressure. Her mascara starts to mix with her tears and streak down her face, but she wipes it away. Ugh, peer pressure is a bitch.

  I nod to the group as I step over next to my mom. The room goes silent as I realize I have no idea how to begin.

  “Umm. I don’t really know what to say,” I start.

  “Well, that’s a first,” Derrick Coleman says from the back, making everyone laugh. I give him a look that says shut up. Derrick thinks he knows me because we dated a few years back. He doesn’t, which is one of the many reasons we’re not together anymore.

  “Umm,” I begin again. “Well, I don’t know. I, uhh, I feel lucky to have lived here in Anchorage all this time. The past ten years of my life have been amazing. I’ve made awesome friends and awesome memories that I’ll never forget. I appreciate all of you being here and being supportive of me moving out to St. Louis all on my own. I know it’s a big change, and it’s scary, but I look forward to it. I think it’ll be good for me to build my own life. I’m going to miss all of you, especially my old college friends, and my girls from the hospital. It’s going to be hard nursing it up in St. Louis without you ladies, and without my mom, but like I said, I look forward to the adventure. Mercy Hospital seems really nice, and they’re anxious for me to get there, so it should be fun.

  “I’m going to be in touch with all of you, I swear. I’ll never forget where I came from or the impact all of you have had on my life. I love you all, and I’ll be here to visit all the time, so you better be ready to have a blast when I’m in town.”

  “We love you, Alannah!”

  “I love you, too, Jessica! Alright, now that’s enough of a speech. I don’t want to start crying. Thank you, guys.”

  They all applaud again and pat me on the back as I go hug my mother. She squeezes me like she’s afraid she’ll never see me again once I get on the plane in
a few days, and I can tell she’s fighting back her tears. I am too.

  It’s been a long road getting to this point. All the relationships—good ones and bad ones—all the school, all the family stuff—good and bad. It’s been an adventure, and Anchorage has become a great home for me and my family. It’s been so good that my dad decided to retire from the Air Force and live here for good, which is why he can’t understand why I want to leave. He’s still supportive, but me moving away is still a sore subject between the two of us.

  My father, always the skeptic, believes that I’m only moving back to St. Louis for one reason. Even though I’ve told him he’s wrong, my father is hard-headed, so he just gives me that look and we change the subject.

  My mother’s thinking is in line with my dad’s, but she doesn’t give me as much grief about it. I think it’s because she just wants to be supportive of her daughter, just like she always has been. When I told her I wanted to become a nurse like her, she had my back, and gladly paid my way through college so I could get my BSN in nursing and work at Providence Alaska Medical Center with her the past couple of years. Mom has been in my corner the whole time, so the emotion she’s showing tonight isn’t a surprise.

  “So, there’s nothing I can do to make you change your mind?” Mom says as she follows me into the kitchen. I put my wine glass in the sink and face her with a smile.

  “Not likely,” I reply. “But I’m glad you care so much.”

  “Well, I do,” she replies as my dad walks in and stands behind her. He has a stern expression on his face and folds his arms with an attitude. “So, can I ask you a question? And I want you to be honest with me, Alannah. Okay?”