Bellissimo Lotta (Beautiful Struggle): Companion Novel to Bellissimo Fortuna (The Family Trilogy Book 2) (14 page)

“No,” Callie whispers. She’s holding her stomach, her eyes filled with tears, and her lips trembling. I’m in complete shock. My father. Dead. Ambush. The fucking Mob.

“That’s not true. Papa’s always careful.” Denial is my first defense.

My mom lifts her head, devastation still etching her face, “Baby, it’s true.”

“What do we do?” I look at her blank face, and she isn’t sure at the moment.

She calls Bronson. We sit in silence and wait. None of us know what to say, the guards still here, bustling throughout the house and grounds, waiting for word on Luis. I wonder where all of our fates will lie. Bernie, one of the captains, walks in taking in the scene in front of him. “Jesus,” he mumbles.

My mom takes a shuddering breath and stands, bowing her head towards the kitchen, and he follows her. Minutes pass with Callie’s and my silence filling the room. The sound I hear will haunt my dreams forever. The loud, keening shrill of despair. My mother’s. I rush from the couch, and run towards her. She is crumbled on the floor and won’t stop making that noise. I cover my ears, tears running down my face, and I have no idea what is happening in this moment, but I do know it can’t be good. Bernie helps my mom back to the couch. She looks at both mine and Callie’s faces, and I see the steel come over her face. Her back straightens, and she embraces both of us, refusing to shed another tear. This is bad.

“What?” I beg her to tell me what I just witnessed. She shakes her head, but I press. “Tell me. What happened? Is it Luis?”

Bernie places his hand on top of my head and one on my mom’s shoulder. Callie is left out, so I reach for her hand. He speaks and it’s every worst-case scenario rolled into one horrific event. “The ambush was set up by Frank Locati.” Callie yanks her hand back from me, her eyes huge, and she runs to the bathroom. I hear her expelling whatever she had inside her.

My mom lets go of me and rushes to her. I hear the quiet murmurs, and my mom brings Callie back into our fold. Bernie continues, “He didn’t suffer. Luis is in bad shape. Don’t know if he’ll wake up, or if he does, what state he’ll be in. We’re keeping eyes on you for safety reasons, and I’ll keep you informed.”

I’m not sure what to say. My father is dead. Callie’s dad killed him. She’s my best friend. Bronson’s life. He’s had her beaten. He’s beaten her. He’s a sick, sadistic bastard, and in this one act of violence he has destroyed us all . . . and hurt his daughter more than I thought possible. I see her retreating into herself. I knew a father’s love, she didn’t. She is taking the blame for this and that guilt will eat her alive. “Callie,” I reach for her again, and she startles like I just slapped her.

“I’ll go.” She stands.

“Callie, sit down.” My mom’s voice is soft but commanding. Callie sits. “This is
not
your fault. You aren’t responsible for his actions. You’re a part of this family, and your place is here.”

Reassurances aren’t reaching her. I leave her to sit in silence, my mom to fix some tea, and me to wonder what the fuck our future will be. We no longer know what’s safe or whose loyalty remains. Hell, it may be the end of everything our family knows.

The door swings open, banging the wall, and we all jump. I see Bronson rush in and go towards my mom, and she prods him to Callie. Dakota follows and sweeps me in his arms, making me feel what I’ve been pushing down all day. In his arms I feel secure enough to let it go. I do. I see Callie fighting Bronson, and this guilt is going to be felt for eternity.

Dakota pushes off the couch and takes me to the stairs, giving me space to break down with him as the only witness. My head buried in his neck, his arms holding me tight, hands sweeping down my back and his lips at my shoulder.

I crumble.

I had the best father in the world, and for many years, I allowed my selfish thoughts to create a rift between us. Just a month ago I was mad at him because I blamed him and his choices yet again. This time it was because I couldn’t be with Dakota. He took my anger and apologized again. Thank God that gap was breached easily, but all the back and forth I did, the pain I caused him, and now I can’t apologize to him. He’s gone.

“No regrets,” Dakota whispers, knowing what I need to hear. “He wouldn’t want you beating yourself up. He’d hold you if he was here and tell you how much he loves you. Feel that, Bianca. Feel his love.” I cry harder. I can’t feel his love because it’s gone.

“I’ll never feel it again.”

“You will. Every fucking day, baby. The love he had for his family, nothing, not even death, can take that. You’ll feel it. You’ll be surrounded by it, and when you need it the most, it will be a blanket for you.”

My hands clench in his shirt, I shift closer, trying to crawl inside and ease this ache in me. If I could find a way to burrow inside him, I would. Everything hurts. Everything feels lost. I want it to stop. “I’m here, baby. Always.” He continues to hold me and doesn’t leave my side. He includes Callie when Bronson is helping my mom or making arrangements. But the next week he is there every second of the day. He’s my rock, my strength, and in this moment, the only thing holding me up.

I knew my mom was strong, but she showed us all the capacity of that strength in the weeks after the funeral. Bronson threw his hat in the Special Agents division; he had nothing stopping him and copious amounts of vengeance fueling him. He was going to take down Frank Locati. Dakota left with Bronson and Callie when they went to Miami. They were both assigned to the same division and it’s good for Callie. I didn’t want to go back to Tallahassee and leave my mom, but she wouldn’t hear of me staying back. I told her I was going to transfer, and I thought she was going to take the wooden spoon to me.

“Bianca Rose, you get your bags packed and get back to school.” I thought she was deflecting and was going to break at any moment.

“I’ll stay this semester. I don’t want you alone.” I figured I’d use honesty and see if that worked. If not I still had guilt . . . that is my back-up plan.

“I’m not an invalid, honey. If I need company, I have friends. I can get in my car or get on a plane and visit my children. Bianca, he’s gone. That’s not a fact that will ever change and not one that hurts any less . . . this is my new reality. I have to get used to it. Go, make me proud and come home on the weekends.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. Fortunately, my dad was smart. He had enough above board businesses so my mom was set for life financially. Deciding I didn’t want to be alone in the condo, I chose the dorms. I wasn’t in danger with my dad gone, going after his family wasn’t going to hurt anyone . . . a ghost can’t help you get what you want, so his former associates had no use for us. Callie was still in danger because her father was still in the wind. It made Bronson crazy. I hoped since Frank took over the family after he murdered my father, it would occupy his time, and he wouldn’t focus on Callie.

I was alone for the first time in my life. Callie and I in different cities, different places in our lives. They still had each other; Bronson, Dakota, and Callie, and I was envious. I threw my focus to school and avoided social situations at all costs. I wasn’t ready, and my name and face had been in the papers a lot. A Mob Massacre garners a lot of attention, and it wasn’t always welcome.

My new roommate, Anna, tried to latch on, thinking I could get her seen. She quickly learned I wasn’t about that, and we did our own things. Tolerating each other at best. I was thankful we still kept the condo because often I had to sleep there when she was entertaining her multitude of guests. She was all about getting the full college experience.

I knock on the apartment door and hear my mom’s excited chatter. We are both in Miami this weekend visiting Bronson and Callie; she arrived this morning, and I had to wait until classes were over to catch a flight. I study the cute little place and see all of Callie’s style. The furniture, the pictures, and the color . . . she’s giving him a home. I notice he’s distant, not engaging in conversation, and he doesn’t touch Callie like he usually does.

I pull her aside, “What’s up with my brother?” She tries to hide the pain that flashes across her face, but she’s shit at it.

“He’s struggling. I’m letting him find his place.” She tries to hide her eyes that are filling with tears.

“Talk to me.”

“He blames me,” her voice is ashamed and laden with guilt.

“Bullshit.”

“Binks, he does. I’m hanging on until he tells me to stop, but I don’t think he loves me anymore.”

“He’s an idiot, Callie. He needs to get his head out of his ass.” If they couldn’t make it, I had no hope for love.

“Don’t say anything. I’m letting it run its course.”

“By being a doormat? Fuck that. Stick up for yourself. Demand he talk to you.” She shook her head, and I was fuming. “I’m leaving.” I slammed the door and flipped my brother off on the way.

I find myself a few buildings over, knocking on another door. It swings open, and his coffee-colored eyes meet mine. No words are spoken. He pulls me in, slams the door, and our attack we wage on one another is mutual.

I hate he’s not mine.

I hate how he makes me lose control.

I hate not knowing what he wants.

I hate how scared I am to ask him.

Instead, we both take what we need from one another, and then act like it didn’t happen the next day. Until it happens the next time, and it keeps happening. I date here and there, as does he. I don’t have sex with anyone, I don’t know what he does. I don’t ask. We text every night, see each other monthly, sometimes more. Neither one of us will verbalize that we are finding our way back to one another. If we don’t make that known, it won’t hurt as bad if it doesn’t happen. It won’t seem like the failure it is.

We are all at home this weekend for my mom’s birthday. Dakota is supposed to come, but I haven’t talked to him this week.

Callie walks in hand in hand with Bronson, and I pounce. I’m all over her. Bronson fixed things. He put a ring on her finger and a smile on her face. I want to see if I’m disappointed or proud of him. Wow . . . that rock, I’m so proud.

“Sisters, finally. We’ll have the same last name,” I tell her.

“Until you get married.”

No. “You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“Have you talked to Dakota?” I shake my head no and shut it down. She doesn’t know I’ve been sleeping with him. She doesn’t know how stupid I am, and if things go well this weekend, she will know. If they blow up in my face, she’ll never know. I’m giving him a choice this weekend. All of me or none of me. I watch her go upstairs and get the envelope that was delivered for her this week. I lose all train of thought as Dakota walks in with flowers and a gift for my mom, a handshake for Bronson, and a smoldering glance thrown my way.

“You’ve ignored my calls this week,” he whispers in my ear, hugging me.

“Um.” I don’t have an excuse. I’ve been fretting all week about what to do.

“I’ll punish you later,” he promises. See, that isn’t a deterrent for me
not
to fuck up. It’s an incentive . . . and he knows it.

After a few minutes of laughter and joking, Bronson leaves the room. Coming back in a panic, “Have you seen Callie?”

“She went upstairs to get something that was sent to her. I think it is her transcripts.”

“She’s not there.” We all split up searching the house. Bronson goes outside. He said she wasn’t feeling well earlier.

His face is stricken as he comes back in. “If that man has her, I’ll kill him.” The guard told us she was going outside to get her purse. It’s sitting on the entry table; she never went for it. Bronson’s phone rings, it’s her, and we all stand there as the blow is dealt to our family . . . again. She’s gone. She left him. He rushes out and heads to the monster’s house. Frank Locati is a man standing between him and Callie and won’t be standing much longer.

He comes home without her. Distraught. She refused him. Gave him back the ring. He’s convinced she’s taking her father’s side. I’m convinced she’s in trouble and doing what she has to for everyone’s safety. He won’t listen to that. I won’t give up.

Nothing is perfect. Life is messy. Relationships are complex. Outcomes are uncertain. People are irrational.

~
Hugh Mackay

Chapter 14