Page 24 of The Man with a Treasure

“Stop!”

We all froze but looked up to the second flooring of the huge staircase. There stood a dying Isabella. Or, at least, that is how she appeared. Her pale cheeks were hollow, and her eyes sunken. She was so thin, even her once full lips had practically shriveled.

With authority and something that sounded stuck between pity and embarrassment, Mr. Giordano tried to direct her to go back to bed, but Angelo, in English, shouted over him, “Fight, dear Isabella! Fight!”

Tears beginning to stream down her face seemed to have her father going quiet.

My best friend? The young man I would die for? He got bolder. Braver.

Refusing to get pushed out of the house, he leaned forward into the Suits. “Don’t you dare give up on that little girl, my friend. My father will find her. He will. And if he doesn’t, I will find her.” He screamed, “I swear it on my mother’s soul!” He lifted his chin, defiantly.

Every man, including me, went still as we took a collective sharp intake.

I stood there, taking in his words and admirable dedication. Did I ‘look up’ to Angelo? I’m not sure that is how it could be worded. It is more like I treasured him—his ideas, his loyalty, his determination, and his hope. All that had me making a very powerful decision. Even though Angelo had practically damned his mother’s soul, if you are going to love someone, you have to also love their crazy side. If Angelo just bought a one-way ticket to Hell, I wanted on that train.

“And I,” I awkwardly spoke in English, shocking myself by the sudden size of my balls. “I will help him find her.” I lifted my chin to match my friend’s—who was actually now staring at me as if I had caught him off guard. I nodded to him. “From this moment on, I vow my loyalty to the Giordano family until my promise is kept, even if that means eternity.”

My words spoke of loyalty to the Giordanos, but it also was speaking of the pact my best friend and I had shared and would live our lives by.

Understanding I was making this a formal pledge, Angelo blinked away his shock then stared the leader directly in his eyes. “I the same. From this moment on, my life is your life.” He broke a hand free from the Suits—who were also with mouths gaping—and pointed to Isabella on the above landing, telling Mr. Giordano, “My life is her life.” His stern expression softened as he gazed up to the mother of the one he was truly giving his life up for. “My life is Scarlett’s. Give me the honor of bringing her home… to you.”

Slowly, Isabella’s frail hand lifted and covered her open mouth, tears dripping.

Angelo quickly promised her, “I won’t fail you.”

With his sincere vow, the Suits loosened their hold on us.

Overcome with emotions, Isabella started to shake her head no, but Angelo interrupted with, “Please, once and for all, accept my friendship and loyalty.”

Isabella, as if it pained her to do so—but needing such dedication to live and breathe her very next breath—finally, reluctantly, nodded. She knew the weight of such a nod. She knew Angelo’s soul was now, irrevocably, connected to hers and her daughter’s.

Had we known all that was to come, maybe Angelo and I would have at least paused long enough to have a discussion, but that is part of the beauty of life. If you truly knew what was coming, would you be brave enough to take the very next step? Would you dare challenge yourself to test your strengths?

Angelo looked to her father, reverting to Italian out of respect. “Sir, do you accept?”

After a moment, the leader gestured to the Suits to release us. As they did, he exhaled. “This is what your father always wanted; I just did not know you would come to it on your own.” He nodded as if secretly regretting owning another life, but quietly replied… “I accept.”

By the time we came back outside, a couple of cars were pulling in. It was time for a shift change of the Suits. After they parked, the newcomers observed me and Angelo with a few security guards, and asked, “Everything alright?”

One grabbed a hold of my shoulder and shook. “Rossi is officially a part of the team.”

Another guard chuckled. “Time for a cigarette break.”

The two Suits that had just arrived went toward the house as we were guided away by the men who we had just tussled with.

Walking down a row of grapevines, I did wonder if ‘cigarette break’ was code for ‘putting a bullet in their naïve heads,’ but it ended up being truly what was claimed. The men offered us smokes, but Angelo and I declined. It would be a habit we would never pick up because Noemi once told us it makes men have foul breath. That description was one that stuck with the two boys who wanted as close as possible to the female gender.

Plus, we were still in a bit of shock about what had just transpired.

Exhaling smoke, one of the Suits said, “I am Pietro.”

My mind was still spinning, fighting to catch up. I wasn’t sure if I had done anything wrong. Would my mother’s tears be happy or mad? The feisty woman would soon let me know whether I had lost my marbles or made her proud.

I replied, “It feels odd to just now be putting a name to a face I see almost daily.”

It was true. I worked in the fields and vineyards. Pietro worked the house and the perimeter around the property. I had shovels, hand tools, and feed. He had guns and skills beyond my own. All the time, we had never shared words. Now, up close, I could see Pietro was somewhere in his thirties. It was hard to be sure. His eyes showed youth, but his scars showed much wear and tear.

His straight hair, split down the middle, moved as he nodded, while his lips pulled on his cigarette. “We are not to mingle.”