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“What??" I say. The sudden image of us huddled together on a fucking log rushes into my head and I get the feeling of being trapped. “What do you mean? What do you mean you’re Sophie Russo?”
She senses my boiling frustration and steps off of me. She tries to cover herself with her hands, as if it could hide what she’s just said.
“I’m Sophie Russo. I didn’t know you were Luca Colombino until you said. And I didn’t—”
“You were a Russo coming to Colombino territory? Are you fucking crazy?” I say. I rise, heading towards her, but she stumbles back towards the sand. Towards the water. She looks over her shoulder desperately. A flicker of guilt rushes over me, but then I remember who she is.
“No, no, not like that,” she says quickly. I can see the fear in her eyes. “I mean, I knew Hush was Colombino owned. And that Piovere is run by you guys. Everyone knows, but …” she trails away.
My body is tense and I can feel my fists clamped together at the sides. My blood is boiling. Suddenly the idea of the gas not being put in the jetski tank, the radio being turned off … I throw my arms out wide and turn in a circle. “Is this all to kill me?” I scream. “Shoot your fucking shot!”
But Sophie looks at me like I’m insane. However, I’ve lived long enough in this life to know the truth. I know a hit when I see one.
“I never expected Thomas Russo to use his own daughter as bait though,” I say, I hope the contempt shows in my voice. “I didn’t think Russos would sink so low.”
“He hasn’t,” Sophie says. “He doesn’t even know I’m here.”
My face changes very quickly. And she realizes what she’s said too, because hers floods with a deeper shade of white and fear. “But my friend knows! She knows I’m partying on the Piovere yacht in Key West.”
I frown. “And why would I trust anything you say?”
“Because I’ve done nothing but trust you,” she pleads.
I stare at her for a long time, then growl the frustration out of my throat. I can’t do anything else. “C’mon, let’s put our clothes on,” I say. “We look like fucking idiots.”
I turn and put my shorts on. I look and she’s still standing there, huddling in herself by the water. A part of me pities her.The part that didn’t know she was a Russo.But the other half of me that knows she’s a Russo doesn’t care. Let her be embarrassed. Who the fuck knows what all this is.
“Put your bikini on,” I say. “Whatever game you’re up to is done.”
She stands there, I eventually get sick of it and walk to the bag. I take the radio out and try the channel again. It still hasn't found the yacht, and it definitely wouldn’t be out of range—these things can signal all the way from Fort Lauderdale to Key West. It’s that no one has switched it on. I could try other channels. But that would lead to questions. And questions in this situation are very peculiar. Besides, who knows who’s listening if this Russo whore has dragged me into a trap.
I turn back to her, she’s halfway to her bikini and she freezes. “Put on your clothes,” I say. She weighs up the words and finally rushes to the bikini, sliding it over her body quickly. “You left your phone on the boat,” I say.
She pauses. “Yes,” she finally says.
“Pretty sloppy if this is a hit,” I say. “You can’t radio in your position, or call for help.” I walk towards her, staring her down.
She groans. “This isn’t a hit. I didn’t knowwhoyou were until you said it. I thought you were LucaatPiovere. The brand I love. The designs I love. I thought you were a guy I could justlike, and have no involvement in the mafia lifestyle.” Her words are sincere. It’s more of a confession than anything else.
Her truth satisfies me. “Okay then, “ I say, folding my arms. I remind myself of how young she is. “You are young,” I say, but this time meaning it to be bad.
The words whip her.
I look to the horizon. I decide to trust her just a little bit. “I’ve made mistakes,” I say. “When our pick up comes, you say nothing. I don’t want anyone knowing who you are. I will give you a different name. I’m merciful but you can be sure that other Colombinos are not. Especially to a Russo. And the fact that you’re the Don’s daughter?” I shake my head in awe of her stupidity and walk away. I head back to the trees we were just fucking under. “We will wait,” I call back to her.
She sits out in the sun for a long time. Letting the water lap at her feet and she seems lost in her thoughts. Maybe she realizes how stupid she’s been, or maybe she realizes how close she came to a dangerous situation. I wouldn’t have killed her. I feel conflicted about it all though. My heart feels torn. I hear the words of my father echoing in my mind and his wants for me to settle down.What would he say if the girl I’d been thinking of settling down with for the last couple hours was a Russo?
Eventually the sun begins to set and she comes towards me. She seems frail and afraid. Like all the ground we’ve been enjoying together has crumbled and disappeared. I stare at her, letting her know that I don’t want her to sit next to me. I’ve shown enough mercy.
I’ve been trying the radio on and off for the last hour. There's still no one. I was tuned into the public channel before, and there’s fishermen out in the area. But no codewords we’d use. Has anyone caught the signal from the GPS?
“So what does Thomas Russo think of his daughter then?” I ask when the silence has stretched on for a time. “Is he like Michael Colombino?”
She considers my words for a long time. “I think he wishes he’d had a son sometimes.”
I nod, I could only imagine the difficulty of being the daughter of a Don.
“I don’t mean that he’s not proud of me, or left anything out on me, I think it’s more, he knows how difficult it is for a woman in the mafia.” She’s staring at her feet.
