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A part of me wants to scream yes and be escorted by the handsome mafia billionaire with his coffee-stained pants right up to the door of my shitty apartment building. “No thank you,” I say instead with a polite smile. “I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself.” I want to add on that I’ve been taking care of myself for years—all the years that have happened since he left me alone and broke my heart. But I bite my tongue and keep that part to myself.
“I’m sure you can,” he says with a smile. His tone is even and not at all condescending or sarcastic, but there’s something in his eyes that leads me to believe he doesn’t really think I can fend for myself.
On my walk back home, I think about everything that’s happened today. I have all my hopes and dreams pinned on making it big as an actress, and I know I have a lot to lose if I don’t completely ace this Broadway role. I simply can’t afford to get distracted by Vari. My brain knows that, but my heart is being as stubborn as an angsty, defiant teen. And as much as I know I need to put Vari Roberto out of my head, I can’t stop thinking about him.
When I get back to my apartment, I pull the script toBlood Roseout of my jacket pocket and flop down onto the couch to start reading through it. There was a streetwise musical back in the 1960s I read about once in my theatre studies class, one that gave a peek into growing up inside the mob. But aside from that one, I don’t really know of any other play that has toed so carefully yet closely around this theme. AndBlood Roseisn’t really “careful” about its approach anyway. It’s more of an “in your face” romantic tragedy that is poignant, dark andbrutal. And slouched here on my couch trying to read through the lines only makes me get even more drawn into thinking about Vari and the life he’s probably living now. He’s terribly wealthy and powerful, and also terribly hot. With a mix of attributes like that, he can very likely get any woman in the city he wants into his bed.
I quickly shake the thought from my mind, not wanting to think about anyone else’s naked body wrapped around Vari’s, and I try to go back to reading my lines. But after a little while, my eyes get heavy and I fall asleep right there on my couch, letting the script fall onto my chest and descending into my dreams.
And oh, what crazy dreams they are.
I dream that Vari and I are in the play together. He’s the male lead and together we act out all the scenes of the production, including the romantic kissing scene that makes me want to stay asleep and not wake up. But toward the end of the play, when tragedy starts to strike and the lovers are separated by bloodshed and tears, the name of the production comes full circle. I lean down over Vari’s body which is lying on the stage, pretending to have been shot and killed, and kiss him one last time as I lay a bloodied rose against his chest. Then, still fully immersed in my subconscious, he stands up and we both bow our heads to the audience that is roaring with applause as the curtain closes and the orchestra begins to play in the pit. We walk backstage together, hand in hand, and Vari quickly stops to pin me up against the wall near the dressing rooms, pushing his body against mine and putting his mouth over my own.
But just as I am about to feel his tongue encircle mine, my eyelids to pop open. And I can’t decide whether I’m glad, or if I should immediately try to go back asleep and continue the fantasy.
4
VARI
Just as I’m settling down to attend to some business, I get a phone call. “Hello, Alessio,” I say when I pick up the call from my brother. “Everything good?”
Alessio serves as my underboss. He’s the middle of us three brothers and the one honestly most responsible out of the three of us. One might think I should be the most responsible, being the eldest. But I know I can be too reactionary and reckless at times. Our youngest brother, Petre, is the baby of the family, but he has his moments of clarity when he gives some good advice.
“Well, I guess that depends heavily on how you define good,” he says. “By my definition, I would say no, everything is not good.”
“What’s going on?”
“Brutus Serrano isn’t happy.”
I could’ve called that even before my brother informed me of it. Brutus is another mafia don and a rival drug kingpin. He’s always on edge, especially when he anticipates someone stepping on his toes or encroaching on his territory.
“Word got back to him that you didn’t shut down that new Broadway play.”
“That was fast.” I shouldn’t be surprised. The mafia has eyes and ears everywhere. Even my own men know what happens everywhere in this city in almost real time. “It won’t be a problem.”
“Are you sure about that, Vari?” he asks. “Brutus has already rallied several other high-profile players to his side who are all unhappy about the production being allowed to continue. They worry the director will take too much liberty in depicting mafia business and run the risk of exposing some of our inner secrets that should stay out of the limelight. I don’t know why you didn’t just shut it down. Isn’t that what you went to the theatre for?”
“Yeah, it was,” I answer ambiguously. “But I ran into a complication.”
“What kind of complication?”
“Nothing you or theborgataneed to worry about. I’ve got it handled,” I answer concisely so that my brother knows not to question me further.
“I hope so. Brutus isn’t a man to trifle with.”
I don’t need Alessio’s warning, because I already know exactly what kind of man Brutus is. He was given the nickname “Brutus the Brutal” because of his propensity to kill first and ask questions later.
I call a meeting with some of the mafia’s biggest figureheads in the city to snuff out their concerns before they escalate. I've learned through years of experience that dealing with things head-on is the only way to handle men who think themselves to be invincible. “It’s not smart,” one of them says, opening our meeting with his objection before I’ve even gotten started. “A production like this could get way out of hand. You know how those Broadway people are, always taking creative liberties and using that as an excuse to blow open exposes on the real things they should keep their nose out of.”
“It won’t get that far,” I say without getting my feathers ruffled.
“And how can you be so sure of that?”
I pause for a split second to think, because I actuallycan’tbe sure of that. Then I do what I do best, come up with a solution on the fly. “Because I’ll be overseeing the entire production,” I answer. “From the initial rehearsals to the script review, to opening night and every show that follows untilBlood Roseleaves the stage. I’ll have my hands in every aspect of the play and therefore I’ll ensure that things will stay under tight wrap.”
One of the other men bursts into laughter. “And why on earth would you want to do all of that?”
“What can I say?” I shrug. “I have a love for the theatre.”
