The Beautiful People (25 page)
Mr. Genovese sat at one
of the small, round tables, He was missing half of his head and brain matter
sat on his shoulder like bird poop. His half smile grinned when he saw me
looking at him. His remaining eye winked at me as he gestured for me to sit
next to him. I cringed and turned away, my stomach rolling. Marco let go of my
arm and pushed me in the direction of Mr. Genovese, but I collapsed in a heap
on the floor. He laughed and circled around me, a predator sizing up its prey.
Once again, I looked to Dominic for help, but he was nowhere to be found.
Anxiety enveloped every nerve and I focused on the wood grain of the floor. I
counted each line, trying to slow my breathing. Marco stopped circling and
stood in front of me, his shoes obstructing my view of the floor, interrupting
my count.
“We need a
new piñata,” he said and a length of rope coiled around his toes. At this
strange comment I lifted my head and stared up at him. “Our last piñata is all
worn out,” he pointed to the ceiling at the end of the room. I followed where
he was pointing and a new wave of terror washed over me when my eyes landed on
Brittany. Her naked, lifeless body swung slowly back and forth, suspended by a
noose. She was beaten and bruised – almost beyond recognition. A puddle of
blood pooled on the floor beneath her. Vomit surged up my throat, but was
stopped by a noose being tightened around my neck - blocking off oxygen and the
ability to scream.
I woke up screaming,
but no sound escaped my dry mouth. My hands fought against the rope around my
neck that wasn’t there. My trembling body was soaked in sweat and I sat up in
my childhood bed, the pink comforter grounding me in reality. As my breathing
slowed I tried to shake off the nightmare. This was by far the most vivid. I
tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but couldn’t produce enough saliva. I
slid out of bed and padded down the hall to get a glass of water in the
kitchen. The house was dark and silent, the only light generated came from the
LCD display on the DVD player and cable box.
I grabbed a clean glass
out of the dish drain and filled it with tap water, draining it in five gulps then
went to refill it.
“Trouble
sleeping?” my mom’s voice asked from somewhere in the darkness. I yelped and
dropped the glass. It clattered into the sink, but didn’t break.
“Jesus! You
scared me!”
“You were
always so reactionary,” she commented.
“No. Since
when did you hide in the dark? A little warning would have been nice.”
She flipped on the
light over the dinette table and I squinted, allowing my eyes to adjust. My mom
sat at the table with a mug in front of her, a tag from the tea bag draped over
the side. She wore an old green and gray plaid flannel nightgown. The one Grant
got her for Christmas five years ago. She looked tired and the harsh overhead
light created shadows that made her wrinkles look more pronounced. She was once
considered a beauty and won the Dogwood Festival beauty pageant in her home
town of Phoenixville. After my dad left, her heartbreak had been permanently
etched on her face. She used to dye her hair blonde, keeping the gray at bay,
but seemed to have stopped as the gray hairs were more prominent than the
yellow. I fished my glass out of the sink, refilled it and sat next to her at
the table.
“What are
you doing up?” I asked.
She
shrugged. “I can’t sleep.”
“Any
particular reason?”
“Heartburn;
I don’t think the chili is agreeing with me.”
“Ah.”
“What about
you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Yeah, it
was something like that. I had a bad dream, about my friend who died.”
“Oh,” she
replied awkwardly and patted the back of my hand. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m also
not used to sleeping away from Dom,” I admitted. She pulled her hand away from
mine as if it had burned her. “Mom, why do you dislike Dom so much?”
She was silent and
pursed her thin lips together. Great, this was going be one of the many silent
conversations we’ve had. Surprisingly, she answered.
“I don’t
dislike him. It’s just that you seemed to drop everything: Chelsea, your
friends from college, and even your artwork. It’s all about him now. What
about you?”
“I do stuff
for myself.”
“I learned
the hard way with your father and it was a lesson learned too late – you need
to put yourself first.” Her words were almost identical to the advice Chelsea had
given me when Dom and I first started dating.
“I know
that Mom.”
“I want to
make sure you do. I don’t interfere in your life Natalie, I’ve let you make
your own choices, but I see a lot of your father in Dominic and I want to make
sure you don’t repeat the same mistakes I have made.”
“Dominic is
not like my father! He is kind, sweet and he takes care of me,” I defended him.
This was mostly true, but I had forgiven him for not protecting me against Mr.
Genovese.
She sighed and regarded
me with tired eyes. “So he treats you well, he doesn’t hurt you or make you do
anything you don’t want to do?”
“Not at all,
Mom. He is a really great guy.” Now his uncle on the other hand, I wanted to add,
but didn’t. She’d have plenty of time to figure him out if Miranda was going to
be her daughter-in-law. “I ran into Chelsea’s mom today. She gave me Chelsea’s
contact info. I’m going to try to make things up with her.” This was just the
change of subject I needed. Mom lightened up considerably after that and we
actually had a civilized, normal conversation and I didn’t feel on the defensive.
We talked until almost dawn and finally called it a night when we were both
yawning more than speaking.
Grant and I left the
next afternoon and I was actually sad to say goodbye to mom. We each hugged her
and promised to call when we arrived back in the city.
“So you and
mom seemed to be getting along,” Grant mentioned.
“Yeah, we
had a good talk last night.”
“Wow,
that’s amazing,” he joked.
“I know,
right? I’m glad we came to visit though; guess I needed it too.”
“We’re family;
it’s always good to go home.” I nodded in agreement and stared out the window
at the passing farmland. The leaves were beginning to change color, shades of
reds and yellows blazed the tree line. Farmers were readying the fields for
winter, pulling in their last harvest of pumpkins and gourds.
“Speaking
of family…when are you going to pop the question to Miranda?” I asked.
“I’m going
over to her parents’ house for dinner tonight. I will speak to Marco in private
there and ask for her hand.” This was typical for Grant, a very traditional
approach.
“Well,
break a leg. I still don’t understand why you would want Marco as a
father-in-law.”
“I’m
marrying Miranda, not her father,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, but Marco
has a way of making his presence known,” I replied.
“He’s not
so bad.”
“What? Not
so bad?” I yelled at him. “Did you forget about what he did to me?” I couldn’t
believe he didn’t see Marco as a monster, like I did. Love must really have
clouded his vision.
“You just
have to get to know him. He’s in a very powerful position and has to do certain
things to maintain that position.”
“Oh, I know
him, I still feel his hands around my throat every once in a while,” I yelled
back at him. Grant winced, but didn’t say anything else. We rode the rest of
the way in silence. I couldn’t believe Grant was defending Marco. He had
already crossed over to the dark side and I was now beginning to see it.
Grant dropped me off in
front of the lobby and I got out without saying another word; I figured the
slammed door said enough for me. Dominic wasn’t home and it was nice to have
the condo to myself. I grabbed a diet coke out of the fridge and plopped on the
sofa. Turning the television on, I watched without paying attention. The news
came on and the top story was about another mob related slaying that had
occurred on Passyunk Avenue. I changed the channel. It was comforting to know
that Grant was out of town when that occurred and didn’t pull the trigger.
Dominic, on the other hand, could have. I shuddered at the picture of him
holding a gun and blowing somebody’s brains out without any remorse. Lack of
sleep caught up to me and I dozed off as the sun set and the apartment grew
dark.
The deadbolt sliding in
the door woke me up. The sound reminded me of the safety being released on a
gun, something working the gun check familiarized me with. The kitchen light
came on and Dominic peered around the entertainment center. He smiled when he
saw me lying on the sofa.
“I’m sorry
if I woke you,” he said.
“It’s ok.”
I yawned and stretched. “What time is it anyway?”
“A little
after nine,” he answered and sat down next to me. I propped my legs up on his
lap. “So, did you talk to Grant? Did you hear the news?” I was still
disoriented and shook my head. Then it dawned on me what Grant was doing
tonight. Secretly, I hoped that Marco would refuse Grant. “Grant and Miranda
are engaged,” Dom announced.
“Oh,” was
all I could say, feeling more disappointed than happy. “Marco was okay with it
then?”
“Oh my God,
Uncle Marco is thrilled. He was already making wedding plans like he was the
mother of the bride!” Dominic chuckled.
“Were you
there?”
“Yeah, my
mom and dad were too. It was a family dinner.” For some reason this comment
bothered me and made me feel excluded. Dominic must have picked up on my
distance and put his arm around me. “I tried calling to invite you, but your
cell went right to voicemail,” he explained. My phone sat on the coffee table
in front of us and I reached for it. Sure enough, the battery had died and the
phone shut off. I tossed it back on the table and snuggled closer to Dom.
“I’m sorry;
I’m just feeling a little cranky right now.”
He moved my hair aside
and started softly kissing my neck. I couldn’t help but giggle as his stubble tickled.
He continued to leave a trail of kisses up my neck, sending goose bumps down my
body. He paused at my ear. “I know how to put you in a good mood,” he whispered
suggestively. I was already feeling better as the familiar tingling sensation
spread out from my core. I reached for his face and pressed my lips to his. We
kissed and ripped each other’s shirts off. I pushed him back on the sofa and
climbed on top. He was right, he knew exactly how to improve my mood.
Word spread fast at
Crimson about Grant and Miranda’s engagement. Grant strutted around the club
like a prize thoroughbred. Just like in my nightmare, Miranda was radiant, her
pale skin luminescent, like a pearl. I couldn’t remember ever seeing Grant so
happy. His face was always heavy with seriousness and that seemed to have
lifted. He actually looked his age and not older. Although I wouldn’t have
made the same choice, I couldn’t begrudge his happiness.
Miranda’s ring finger
was barely visible underneath the giant rock that Grant had given her. The
disco ball above the dance floor didn’t sparkle nearly as much as the princess
cut diamond. It was the envy of most of the Crimson girls. Every time I ducked
into the employee lounge to freshen up, the engagement, the ring and the
upcoming nuptials were the main topics of discussion.
Dominic’s description
of his uncle was dead on. Marco was behaving like a mother of the bride. I had
settled into a routine whenever I worked the VIP section and Marco was present.
I ignored him. He had stopped giving me any attention after I had slapped him at
Brittany’s funeral, and that made ignoring him so much easier. Tonight he was
sitting at his usual booth surrounded by his boys. His brothers, Al and Rico, were
among them. Even though the wedding was a year away, Marco was busy discussing
the wedding and how many people to invite. By the sounds of things, they were
going to have to rent one of the stadiums to accommodate the guest list. Knowing
the Grabanos, they probably owned one of the stadiums anyway. The conversation
steered towards the inclusion of the five families in New York and that’s when
the tone became more serious.
“I don’t
want to give them an opportunity to do anything at Miranda’s wedding,” Marco
stated.
“Yeah, but
if we don’t invite them, it will be received as a slight and will only make
matters worse,” Al reasoned.
“Do you
really think they would mar a sacred event like a wedding?” Rico, Dominic’s
father, asked.
“Of course
they would take advantage of an opportunity like that. I’m surprised they
haven’t settled the score yet; killing Luigi is all the reason they need, not
to mention the others,” Marco added. Everyone around the table grew quiet. Marco
caught me eavesdropping and his eyes got dark. I looked away, feeling my face
flush. So Grant had warned them about the New York families’ plans for
retaliation. I wondered if Dominic knew. If he did he was really good at
appearing calm. One thing that was becoming increasingly clear to me was that
it didn’t matter how high the body count got. There was always going to be one
family trying to establish power and control. Reading about it in the paper or
hearing about it on the news is one thing, but actually knowing the people that
are being killed, and the ones that are doing the killing, is entirely
different – and extremely disturbing.
I hurried over to
another table to take drink orders. Even though my back was facing Marco, I
could still feel his penetrating gaze. I wondered if he saw the fear in my eyes
before I turned away from him. Grant and Dominic were moving targets, the
conversation I overheard just confirmed that, and my stomach was twisted so
tight, it hurt to breath.
Dominic sensed the
tension the second I sat down at his bar and ordered a drink. I hadn’t drunk
anything alcoholic the past couple of weeks, but I surrendered to the craving
tonight. The vodka and tonic went down way too smoothly and didn’t quench my
thirst. I ordered another one. This too disappeared quickly and left me wanting
more. When I ordered a third, Dominic raised his eyebrow and hesitated. “Nat,
what’s up? Why are you drinking like you’re on a mission?”
“No
reason,” I lied.
“Uh
hunh,” he said as he set another drink down in front of me. From the first sip
I could tell this drink wasn’t as strong as the first two.
“Let’s
run away together,” I blurted out. He laughed and set a clean glass on the
shelf. He picked up a dripping wet martini glass and started drying it.
“Where
did you have in mind?” he asked.
“I
don’t know,” I slurred. “Anywhere.” He set the martini glass down, flung the
dish towel over his shoulder and looked at me.
“When?”
“Now,
tomorrow, I don’t care, just soon.”
“We
can ask for some vacation time. Let’s plan something.”
“Not
a vacation, I mean let’s move, let’s leave Philly behind and go somewhere new,”
I corrected him. His smile disappeared when I said this and his eyes got dark,
reminding me of a green version of Marco’s.
“Why
do you want to move? Aren’t you happy here with me?”
I took another long sip
before I answered. “I am happy with you, but I think I need a change of
scenery,” I looked up at the VIP section where Marco and his crew still sat.
“And I think it would be safer for you to get out of Philly too.”
Dominic reached across
the bar and took my hand in his. “Is that what you’re worried about? That
something’s going to happen to me?”
“Yes,”
I said quietly. “I know that the Genovese family knows you and Grant took out
Luigi.” He caressed my hand as I spoke. “Grant is set on marrying Miranda and
staying here; I thought I could convince you to leave.” He reached over with
his other hand and lifted my chin so he could look in my eyes.
“I’ll
be safe, Grant will be safe. This stuff happens all the time, please don’t
worry.” He kissed the tip of my nose.
“I
don’t know if I can do that. How can you be so calm knowing that someone wants
you dead?”
“It’s
what I grew up around; I’m used to it.”
“You
may be used to it, but I don’t think I ever can be. I still feel like I’m on a
Sopranos episode.” Dom laughed again and his face was all smiles and dimples
again. Any seriousness was gone. He kissed me quickly on the lips and went back
to cleaning up his bar. I drained the rest of my drink, but didn’t ask for
another. My body was already comfortably numb.
Dom and I walked across
the dimly lit parking lot to his Mustang from Miranda’s Mercedes. We were both
pretty stoned and the pot had helped to mellow me out even more. I was relieved
to see that the FBI hadn’t shown back up, although I still looked around for
the familiar sedan. After the last interaction with Agent Phillips, he hadn’t
maintained his surveillance or attempted to contact me again. He had conveyed
his message.
Dom pulled out onto
Columbus Blvd. and I stared out the window at the deserted neighborhoods.
Several of the surrounding warehouses were boarded up and crumbling into dust.
“You’re
awfully quiet,” Dom interrupted my silence.
“Hmm,
just thinking.”
“About
what?”
“Would
you ever leave Philly? I mean, have you ever wanted to see what else the world
has to offer?”
He
didn’t hesitate to answer. “No. I would never leave my family. Besides, there
aren’t any reasons to leave. I have everything I could possibly want.” He set
his hand on my thigh and gently squeezed. “Why do you ask?”
“I
was just wondering. I never planned on staying here after graduation…thought it
would be nice to live somewhere else for a while.” Dominic was quiet and he
stared straight ahead. I saw his jaw tense up. The tops of his knuckles were
white from gripping the steering wheel too tightly.
He pulled in front of
our building and handed the keys to the valet. The elevator ride to our floor
was silent. Dominic flipped the lights on in the entryway to the condo and took
my jacket. He still hadn’t said anything. I was getting nervous.
Finally he broke the
silence. “Are you thinking about leaving?” he demanded. His voice was sharp and
his eyes angry. I took a step back.
“No!
It’s just,” I paused. “I love you and I’m happy with you. It’s the craziness
around us I want to leave. The death and the violence…”
“You
can’t leave, remember? Uncle Marco will have your head – and Grant’s – if you
leave,” he reminded me. His eyes flashed in anger as added emphasis.
“That’s
why I thought if we left together, he wouldn’t mind so much.”
“That’s
not going to happen,” he glared at me.
“So,
I’m stuck here, there aren’t any other options?”
“Stuck
here? Is that how you feel? I thought you were doing ok, I thought we were ok,”
he said with a pained expression on his face. I rushed to him and wrapped my
arms around his waist. I looked up at him.
“We
are and I love you. If I am stuck here I couldn’t think of a better person to
be stuck with,” I leaned my head against his chest to hide my face. “I’m just
freaking out, feeling trapped and helpless, you know? I’m sorry.” I wasn’t
going to push the issue anymore tonight. Right now there didn’t appear to be an
alternative, but I would find one.
He kissed the top of my
head, wrapping his muscular arms around me and hugging me close to him. “I’m
sorry too. You deserve to be able to go and do what you want, wherever you
want. I’m sorry that if you did, you would be hunted down. Uncle Marco meant
what he said.” This sounded more like a threat than an apology.
“I
understand,” I said. I pulled away and faked a yawn. “I’m going to bed.” I
wasn’t tired but went to bed anyway. Dom came in about an hour later and I
pretended to be asleep. He curled up next to me and fell asleep almost
instantly. His soft snores whispered in my ear.
The condo was still and
gave me plenty of time to think. Most of my friends from high school and
college were off pursuing their dreams. Becoming a permanent resident of
Philadelphia was never part of my game plan. Yes, I loved Dominic, but I didn’t
love his family. Yes, Dominic would let me pursue my artistic goals, but within
the confines of the city. Ultimately, I would always be tethered to the
criminal underworld, where violence governed. Brittany had grown up around the
mob and she couldn’t hack it. Was I strong enough to handle this lifestyle?
Dom was never going to
leave and neither would Grant. I resigned myself to stick it out and try to
make it work. What other choice did I have? I sighed and turned to face
Dominic. He slept so peacefully. His full lips were parted slightly and the
traces of stubble shadowed his face. His thick black hair was tousled and hung
over his dark eyebrows. I traced the lines of his tattoo, of the word
“famiglia” branded on his arm and he slept on, unaware of my light caress.
The room started to
lighten with the onset of daybreak and sleep still hadn’t come. With another
sigh, I rolled over and got out of bed. I quietly slipped on track pants and a
hooded sweatshirt from my alma mater. I grabbed my iPod, put on sneakers and
left the condo. The concierge looked up briefly when I walked by and waved. The
doorman held the door open for me and I was off running towards Penn’s Landing.
Whenever I had too many thoughts weighing heavily on my mind, going for a run usually
helped. Rush hour traffic was beginning to build as the city woke up. The
sidewalks were still clear and I ran uninterrupted past Penn’s Landing and up to
South St. I crossed over and went down 7
th
street. As I approached
the Italian Market the streets and sidewalks were too congested to keep a
consistent pace, so I turned around and headed back to the condo. By the time I
approached our building, my legs were quivering like Jell-O.
The endorphins had
worked their magic and cleared my head. I caught my breath in the elevator and
reveled at the stillness, the million different thoughts pinging around had
ceased. A steamy hot shower was sounding really good and I couldn’t wait to
get inside to strip off the sweaty clothes. I opened the door and was surprised
to see Dominic up. He turned as soon as he heard the door swing open.
“Where
have you been?” he snapped. I was taken aback by his intensity.
“I
went for a run,” I answered defensively and set the iPod down on the kitchen
counter.
“Oh,”
he replied and visibly relaxed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bark at you.”
“What’s
that all about anyway?” I asked, not ready to accept his apology. He never
cared where I went and had never questioned me before.
“I
thought you might have left me,” he admitted. “I tried your cell phone, but
you left it here. You know you should really take that with you.”
“Thanks
for the advice Dad,” I mocked. “Maybe I’ll go running next time with my purse
too, you never know when I’ll need to reapply lipstick or get a piece of gum.
Did you really think I had left?”
“I
didn’t know what to think. I woke up and you weren’t here and after last
night’s conversation…” he looked at me with sad eyes. “I’m sorry, I
overreacted. Forgive me?” I stood with my arms crossed over my chest and
debated. I was going to forgive him, but wanted to make him sweat a little bit.
“I
can’t leave, remember? Besides, would I really leave my purse, my car and you
behind?” I smiled at this last part to let him know his apology was accepted.
He smiled a huge smile and I couldn’t help but walk up and kiss him, even
though I felt gross and didn’t want any close contact. His dimples were
impossible to resist. “Now please stop all the crazy stuff,” I said sternly as
we separated.
