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“Honey?”
His wet shoes squeaked upon the floorboards as he came farther into the house. I heard him reach into the drawer and pull out what was most likely the revolver my father had gifted him years ago.
When he finally came around the corner he saw her, slumped over the couch. “Violet!” He rushed toward her.
“She didn’t suffer,” I said to him, and his head snapped up to me as I drank the wine. “In fact, we had a perfectly nice chat. I brought the wine, of course, Uncle Vinnie. A 1961 Barolo Riserva. You told Fedel you loved it, did you not?”
Reaching over for the bottle on the coffee table, I poured him some in the empty glass I had left out for him before refilling my own.
“It truly is magnificent. You can tell they put effort into every one of the grapes. My father took me to his vineyard home in Tuscany; it was beautiful. The rolling hills, the smell…I loved it, far more than I loved Bosa. The town was so boring, but my father told me he could never escape the place he was from. The people there were the most loyal and true he’d ever met. I believed him too; after all, he had friends like
you, Uncle Vinnie. You swore never to betray my family and yet here I sit, across from your dead wife, drinking wine, talking about Tuscany and my father, when all I want to do is put a bullet in your skull.” I savored the taste of the wine on my lips.
“I never betrayed the Giovanni's…Emilio is—”
“Don’t you dare!” I hissed, my grip on the glass tightening. “You point to some mutt on the street and think he compares to me? That he is better than me because what, he has a penis? You know nothing about him or what he believes or if he even gives a damn at all. My father chose me, and you disrespected that choice.”
He stood taller, stepping away from his wife and facing me directly. “If you are going to kill me, do it now. I’m sure you’ve taken the bullets out of this anyway.”
He threw the revolver my feet. Reaching down, I grabbed it and held it back up, handing it to him.
“I’m not going to kill you, Uncle Vinnie—”
“Well, you’re a damn fool if you think I’m going to tell you anything.”
I fucking hated it when people interrupted me; it drove me in-fucking-sane! Taking a deep breath once again, I held the gun up at him.
He took the gun and I told him, “You are going to kill yourself.”
“Why would I do that?”
I shrugged. “Because you know you aren’t getting out alive either way, so why bother? At least, you can say you left on your own choice.”
He paused for a moment, holding the gun to himself. “You are evil.”
“Says the man who killed dozens of men alongside my father,” I replied, and before I could blink, he turned the gun to me, but another gun went off first, the bullets striking his chest.
BANG.
BANG. BANG.
Three shots total, and he fell down as I sipped more wine and Liam stepped up right behind me. Holding the glass up to him, he handed me the gun so he could take a drink.
“I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” he said, even though he had finished the glass off. “In fact, I think it could be stronger.”
“You have a horrible taste for wine.” I took the glass back. “The last of that was completely wasted on you.”
“However will you live?” he replied, rolling his eyes at me when I moved over to Uncle Vinnie. His body convulsed on the ground, blood pooling in his mouth as he stared up at me.
“It didn’t have to be this way…you all made me do this,” I whispered, Liam already waiting by the door. The main street of what I liked to call New Italy was eerily silent. In rows across the street, all the houses looked exactly the same. Inside I could see families in living rooms, watching television, others in their kitchens or upstairs in their bedrooms. I had built this community for them, my money, my sacrifice…I had taken a rundown cul-de-sac and built a new urban neighborhood.
What I give, I can take away.
“Melody,” Liam stated when the car pulled up.
I nodded and he dialed as Lucian held open the door for me. When the door shut, Liam hung up and we pulled out. As we passed by, I couldn’t help but look over the homes whose red flags weren’t up on their mailboxes…the people against me.
“They have an hour,” Liam told me, adjusting his suit vest and leaning back.
