GABRIEL
I didn't stick around for the theatrics, and unlike the others here, I knew the noise level was about to go way up, and the crazy would kick in. I headed back into the city, just for a walk, minding my business, and just so happened to end up in front of Teresa's place of business. I stopped outside the plate-glass window of the little boutique she owned and ran, looking down at the map as if lost.
"Scusi!" I heard the door open behind me and the tread of high heels on cement. I stepped back out of the way as she approached me with a tentative smile. "Scusi, you're Gabe, no? Alonzo's son, we met at the party, you remember, I'm Teresa."
"Oh, sure, uh-huh, I think I remember you. Do you live here?" I looked around at some of the high rises that flanked the row of stores and cafes.
"No-no, this is my shop." She indicated the store behind us, and I turned to look at it in surprise. "Oh, okay, well, I'm sorry to have interrupted you, please don't let me disturb you. It was nice to meet you again." I started to walk off, but she stopped me with a hand on my sleeve.
"No, it's no bother. What are you doing here?"
"Oh, I'm just looking around; I wanted to see some of the places my mother walked when she lived here. Say, did you know my mother? I don't think she's ever mentioned you before." She dropped her hand from my sleeve and stepped back a little.
"Your mother, no, not really. We weren't very close at all."
"Oh, well, that's okay." I put on the most pitiful expression I could muster before looking down at my map again.
"Why don't you join me for an espresso´? Over there, at the café´." She pointed to one of the busiest ones across the street.
"Are you sure? I don't want to take you away from your work. My grandfather will show me around when he's not so busy; I can wait."
Yes, my grandfather, the man who gave you the money to open your store. The man who now knows the part you played that night. Her face fell a bit, but she regrouped rather quickly and plastered a smile on her face. "No, it's no problem. I'll tell my helper." She opened the door and called out to the woman inside, who'd been pretending not to watch us through the window.
"Come!" She could only have one reason for this show of friendliness; she needed to know what I knew. Me, I'm here to give her a false sense of safety. It's not quite time to act against her yet, but it's going to take more than the few days I have left here this trip to do what needs to be done. In the meantime, I needed to at least break the ice with her, So I sat across from her and sipped my bottle of water while she probed me.
If she thought this infantile shit would work on me, she hasn't met the Russo twins. The FBI don't have nothing on them. I let her play her little mind game, not knowing that she herself was getting mind-fucked by yours truly. "So, tell me, how did my father meet my mother? I'm not brave enough to ask him, and Ma never really talks about him. I get the feeling that they had a bad breakup or something."
I saw the second she relaxed; it was in the steadiness of her hand when she picked up her cup. A steadiness that had been sorely missing before. "I don't know much about their relationship Alonzo never said."
"That's strange, weren't you all friends? Why does no one seem to remember my mother being friends with Alonzo or having seen them together? But you're all friends, no, that's what Sal said, that you were always together back then. So why does no one remember their romance?"
She swallowed and tried to keep that smile in place, but I could see it slipping. "Ah, it doesn't matter. It was so long ago, right. I just wish I had someone to talk to, someone who would tell me stories about my parents' lives here. It seems so peaceful." I pretended to shake off my ennui, "enough about me; how is life here for you?"
I took her all the way back down into a place of complete relaxation. She's Sicilian; she wouldn't expect me to sit so jovially with my mother's abuser, so she got comfortable and shared some of the more pertinent facts about the city and the village, leaving out all the darkness that she no doubt played a part in along with her little friends.
"I guess I won't be seeing you again, not any time soon anyway."
"Oh, you're leaving?"
"Yes, I go back to the States in two days. I wish I had more time, but school will be starting again soon."
Now she was even more sure that I had no evil intentions.
"You're married, right? I think I remember meeting your husband that night. Tell him bye for me and thank you for saving me from myself today."
"Oh, it's no problem; I hope to see you soon. And of course, I'll tell Antonio you said ciao." I put my earbuds in as I walked away, and it wasn't five minutes later that she called her husband to give him the good news. The stupid American indeed knew nothing. Alonzo, the pig, wasn't lying to them, after all.
There was a lot of reassurance on her end as she convinced him that I'd run into her quite by accident and that it was she who'd approached me and not the other way around. Once they were both satisfied that I was not here to harm them in any way or to expose them for what they truly are now that they were no longer kids hiding behind their parents' shadow and had so much more to lose, I stopped listening.
I headed back to the palazzo, their laughter ringing in my ears as I dug out the vintage bottle of doctored wine I'd brought along with me. The house was still in an uproar dealing with Felice, and it was easy for me to slip in and out without too much notice.
I left the house and went back to the hotel I'd booked upon arrival under the pretense of making sure the bill had been taken care of, if anyone should ask. In fact, I was using their services to make a delivery for me. A little thank you, if you will, for the lady spending part of her day with me. I added a note to the bottle of wine saying just that and sent it off to Teresa's boutique.
I wasn't really in the mood to listen to Felice's screams of impending madness for the rest of the day, but there was no choice unless I wanted to appear heartless or, worse, suspicious; I needed to hang around at least part of the time. And it might work as a much-needed distraction since this was the time of day when thoughts of 'her' always seem to intrude on my mind. It doesn't matter where I am what part of the globe. Every day at lunchtime, I remember our moments together.
Even here, a million miles away, she plagues me. Gianna! Maybe this is part of my penance; this suffering is worse than any death. It's like dying slowly, bit by bit every day—sort of like what I'd done to Felice and what I plan to do to the others. So maybe I was paying for my sins while here, so I won't have to pay for them in my next life. Please find me in your next life, Gianna! I'll wait for you there.
***
I listened through the night to the footsteps that ran back and forth and the sudden outbreaks of screams that came from Ricci's suite of rooms down the corridor every once in a while. I could've watched through the little camera I'd left hidden in their room, but hearing and imagining her agony was just as satisfying. Besides, I was tired. Emotionally and physically, both from riding earlier and my little outing this afternoon. And also, from being this close to the enemy and not being able to snap his neck.
There's nothing anyone can do for her. I'm almost certain that the doctor they'd called in wouldn't find the source of her pain since my method isn't one readily known unless you're familiar with Australia or the forests of Indonesia, which I'm pretty sure he's not. I'd attacked both her vanity and her mind, and if she keeps using that cream, she'd be dead within a year or less, but not before going completely insane, which I intend to make happen.
Next up, Antonio and Teresa. Taking care of those two will be easy; in fact, the hardest one of all is Luna, and that's only because of the shit she was involved in. If it were just her, it wouldn't be so hard; speaking of which, I need to contact Memnon, see if he'd made any progress in his search.
As to my plans for Antonio and his Bella figura wife, I'd just sent her their death in a bottle. It won't happen right away, and there will be no symptoms for some time; I didn't want everything happening at once like I said, so as to avoid suspicion, but if chaos follows one behind the other and from different directions, it's sometimes hard to pinpoint the source.
When it comes to Carlo and Michele, another couple that came out of that night, I just have to let the more studious but hot-tempered Carlo know that his wife is fucking his good friend, Bruno, three birds with one stone. For them, I don't even need to get my hands dirty. I'll just throw that stick of dynamite and sit back and watch the aftermath. But not yet!
I know they'd all contacted Ricci at some point since the party, and he'd given them the same story, that my mother had told me nothing about that night, but now Sal knew. I'm not sure what Sal has planned for them since he's been doing all he could to find out what part each of them played that night since Felice had thrown them under the proverbial bus, but I do know that his money has backed most of them in some business venture or another.
That was the payoff from Ricci for that night, I guess, then again, I'm sure they've done worse to others over the years, but just like Ma, no one else has come forward to blow the whistle and probably never will, because of their prestige. That's why I plan to strip Ricci of his first before giving him the final blow.
Even though I didn't plan on bringing them all down together, there's nothing stopping me from tormenting the shit out of the lot of them while they await their turn, but I don't plan on doing that until I return home.
The next morning, bodies were scarce around the breakfast table, just as they had been the night before at dinner. At least then, the kids had shown up, but now it was just Sal, Martin, and I. Both men looked somber and as if lost in thought. Sal did perk up when he saw me coming and indicated the place next to him. He may have been preoccupied because of his daughter-in-law because the place he indicated was Alonzo's. Even Martin seemed to notice but said nothing.
I made a big show of not taking that seat and reminded him that it was his son's, which he ignored. "Sit, sit, have your fruit with coffee." Was that a dig at my American palate? Sal seemed very distracted and has been since the night before. I'm beginning to think he really does think that Felice was paying the price for her sins against my mother now that I was here.
I'd learned a bit about his superstitious nature, in fact, a lot, but for some reason, I never expected it to come into play here. Not that it's a bad thing, in fact, it's superb. I'm leaning towards thinking that my being here, in this place, looking like his own father, and going out 0f my way to show him how much like the other man I am, have somehow tripped Sal's switch.
Some may say I did it all intentionally; some would be right. He didn't say anything until I'd finished my coffee. No sooner had the teacup hit the saucer than he got to his feet at the head of the table.
"Come with me, Gabe!" I looked at Martin, who shrugged his shoulders, then I got up and followed the old man out of the room, looking as unsure of myself as I could.
Sal took me to his study and walked to the huge windows that looked out over the grounds with his back to me as he gave whatever he was about to say some thought. "I'm so sorry; I should've offered to leave when things started getting bad here. I can see you're having a hard time forming the words, but there's no need. I'll pack my bags…."
"I want you to move here from America. This is your home, your rightful place. What would it take?"
"Oh, wow, this is all so sudden, but I'm afraid I must refuse. My mother is still there, so are my sisters, my father, and uncles, not to mention my grandparents and my best friend."
"No, these people are not your family, not your blood. I am. I know what Alonzo has done cannot be forgiven, but you are my blood all the same. I will repay your mother for the wrong done to her, yes, but you, you are flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood. I want you close to me."
"I'm sorry, I can't do that. Not right now, maybe later. I want to finish school at least…."
"Ah, so you're not refusing me outright, this is good." Of course, I'm not a complete moron, but neither will I jump at the chance as if it's what I've been waiting for.
"May I ask why, though? You've got your sons and your grandson whom you've known forever. Why do you need me here so badly?" He didn't speak for a little while, just looked at me before turning back to the window.
"I think my father sent you here. And now…" He shook his head, no doubt mulling over his assumption that what was going on with Felice was somehow connected to the supernatural. I couldn't have planned it better if I'd tried. This is what happens when you have the added advantage of spying on your opponent, and for me, my spy network doesn't need sagacity since they're all inanimate objects that can never betray my trust.
I knew Sal's inner thoughts and musings because he has a tendency to talk to himself when alone in his rooms or his study. And I know what lies behind his sudden fear because of what he's been discussing with his consigliere. Finding out the truth so far about what happened that night had reopened his eyes to what his son had been. Add the fact that not much has changed, and Sal has decided to stop turning a blind eye.
I've no doubt his sudden change came about because I'd hopped on the scene at a time like this. He now, according to his words, has new hope. Though he's not yet ready to put his money where his mouth is, he's leaning hard that way. The last little nudge won't come for another couple of months, the thing I will do to solidify his trust in me and wrest some of the reins from Alonzo, who had been set to take over in a little while when Sal stepped down.
The thought of Alonzo's actions coming to light and tarnishing what his father had left behind is plaguing the old man something fierce, and he sees me, his newfound, very respectable grandson, as his only hope. Of course, I'd led him to this conclusion with all the breadcrumbs I'd left in his way. Shit, some people leave America and move on to rule whole countries; why can't I take over the Ricci family?
Felice's screams reached us even here, and I saw his shoulders droop just a little. It's sometimes hard to remember that Sal is getting up there in years. It's the sparkle in his eyes, especially when dealing with me, that adds a vigor of youth. But here stands an old man. A man who has known for a long time that his son was a screwup but had no other recourse. Martin is not suitable to take over the family, let alone bring it into legitimacy, and now he's losing all hope in Alonzo.
As for Jr., I'm not sure he was ever even in the running. According to what I'd learned in one of my eavesdropping sessions, Sal doesn't hold out much hope for the boy. He seems to think that the mother had spoiled her son too much and in all the wrong ways. While I, his new shiny grandson, was spotless according to what he'd learned, which was only the tip of the iceberg.