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“Shut up!” I yelled.
“Angelo, for Christ’s sake...”
“Stop the car,” I spoke calmly, knowing what I had to do.
“What?” Benny asked.
“Stop the fucking car!”
He killed the engine and waited.
“Get out,” I began.
“Angelo…” said Benny.
“Get out of the car! And by the time I get back, I want you out of the house. I won’t take any insubordination, and the reason you are getting off easy is because I know who you are as well. You have always been weak, and always trying to prove something, which is why you have always chosen violence as opposed to peace. You can’t impose that on me anymore. I’m not some kid, I am running one of the biggest Mafia families ever, and so I can’t run it like some kindergarten elite club.” I opened the door and walked over to the driver’s side. “Now get out.”
Benny got out of the car and glared at me. For a second, I thought he was going to hit me. I hoped that he would, so I would have an excuse to make an example of him. But he didn’t. Instead, he adjusted his suit, turned around, and walked away, strutting across the road and hailing a taxi. I heard him give the address of the house and they drove off into the distance. I let out a breath and got in the driver's seat.
I took the car and continued the drive all the way to where Antonio was waiting outside the theatre. I parked on the opposite side of the road and got out of the car, walking up to him. He smiled and extended an arm to shake mine, then took a second look at the car, seeing that there was no one driving with me.
“Where’s the driver?” Antonio asked.
“Gave him some time off. How was the play?” I asked.
“A work of art. Don’t you see any?” the older man asked, looking back at the building.
“No,” I replied.
“You should. It really lightens the soul.”
“Isn’t that what whiskey is for?” I asked.
We both laughed and looked across the road. Pedestrians walked by us, and the midday bustle of the city was in full swing.
“You’ve heard?”
“Yeah, it's bad.”
“Any word from the Commission?”
“We are still talking it through, they don’t want to make any rash decisions, but it is very likely that...”
The sound of a gunshot rang through the air and we both ducked instantly, hitting the floor. I looked over at Antonio to see him wide-eyed in shock. We were out on the street, exposed, and the shot had come directly at us. I rushed back to my feet and grabbed him, helping him up. Our best bet of getting to safety was heading back to the car.
We both ran across the street as a second shot rang out, hitting the floor near my foot. I jumped, as though that would prevent the shooter from hitting me. That was when I saw the reflection of sunlight off the scope of the shooter. They were on the far end of the street, perched on a rooftop. I made it to the car and jumped in, getting low in the driver’s seat as I started the engine. A round went through the front windshield and pierced the headrest of my seat.
I turned to look back out and noticed that a shot had hit Antonio, and that he was bleeding. He was having difficulty staying on his feet. Staying low in the car, I hit the gas and steered the vehicle around the street to block the traffic, not looking over the dashboard at the street in front of me.
I spun the vehicle until it blocked the view of the sniper from Antonio. In a matter of seconds, I ducked out and pulled him into the car. Once he was in the back, I opened the driver’s side door and acted as though I was going to get in, drawing another shot from the sniper. The bullet went through the glass and hit the seat again. Then I jumped in, knowing that it would take him a couple of seconds to get the shell out of the chamber, realign for the shot, and fire. I hit the gas just as he fired the next shot, and it took out the driver’s side mirror.
“Antonio! Antonio, talk to me!” I yelled back at him, seeing as the old man had begun turning pale. “Antonio!”
“A-Angelo,” Antonio sputtered with blood seeping between his lips. I floored the car, rushing him to the nearest hospital. He reached up with his arm and grabbed me from behind, “Don’t… Don’t let V-Vasquez win.”
We made it to the emergency ward, and Antonio was taken into surgery, but it was too late. The damage was too intense, and the old man couldn’t hold on any longer.
We had lost him.
