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The following night, I texted Cesare and Leonardo, asking them to meet me at “Amanda’s.” I wished the venue was different. I wished it was some big, nice bar in downtown Manhattan. For that to happen, though, we’d all have to be in a good mood. We’d all mean to celebrate, and none of us wanted to party up all night. As far as I was concerned, we needed a small, relatively quiet place to enjoy a few drinks and go over our mistakes. That way, we would avoid making the same mistakes in the future.
I sat at the table in the corner of the hall, Emilio Clapton’s “Layla” playing from the speakers. I shook my head to its rhythm, humming its lyrics, drops of moisture rolling down my beer bottle. My fingers firmly around it, Cesare and Leonardo walked in. As one would expect, they both had disappointment written all over their faces. More often than not, they liked to visit Amanda’s. They would head over to my spot in a bit of a hurry. Well,notthis time. They dragged their boots across the floor, their expressions grim as a waitress followed right behind them. I just had to wave her away. Those two were dying to get things off their chest…
“You don’t have to look so cheerful, boys,” I told them. “I mean, we only screwed upone job.”
“One of these days, I’m going to hurt your sorry ass,” Leonardo snapped, sitting down across from me. “Where did you…?”
“Relax, Leonardo,” Cesare interrupted him. “He’s just trying to lighten up the atmosphere. It’s what he does. You should have known that by now.”
“Really?!” Leonardo squinted, his voice dropping down an octave. “So, I should just laugh? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yeah, you idiot,” I said, my tone calm. “Okay; we didn’t get to buy those guns, but we could have been blown to pieces. We were not. We dodged the bullet. Or rather, the rocket. Speaking of which, how’s Felix? Did he get discharged yet?”
“Just this morning,” Cesare said, waving that waitress back to our table.
We ordered some drinks, Leonardo’s anger not troubling me one bit. He wasn’t exactly famous for his cool head. I could—and would—handle it. What did worry me was the near future. We were planning a move into a world we were eager to get into, but it had been surprising us every step of the way. Even a fool could see the facts, and I was no fool. We hadn’t been prepared for this. We had been anticipating some hurdles along the way, but none of us was ready for what we had encountered so far. None of us had anticipated the various setbacks that could even have killed us. They didn’t, but I could make no mistake. They had put something dreadful in all of us.
Doubt…
Was this too hard?
Was it too dangerous?
Reckless, even?
I didn’t want to believe any of the above.
“I don’t think he’s coming back,” Cesare continued, his vodka loosely in his grip. “He mumbled something about…”
I was interested in hearing everything he had to say. Felix was important to our crew. But the view from down the hall kept me deaf to the rest of my cousin’s sentence. One by one, three men entered Amanda’s, looking left and right. With rifles in their grasp, they fixed their gaze on me. They lifted them up to their chests, their weapons’ stocks pressed into their shirts. Shock widening my eyes, I thrust my arms forward. I grabbed Cesare and Leonardo by the collar of their shirts and yanked them down and leaned forward.
Screams starting to fill the hall, I ducked under the table, my forehead grazing its corner. I crouched to fit my big frame, Cesare’s right hand coming into view. Using his left one to cock his gun, I reached down to my waist for my own. I pulled it out of my belt and took a deep breath, bullet crackles torturing my ears. I jerked back and looked over the edge of that table. Those three were getting closer. At about ten yards away, in the faint illumination, they were nearing the pool table. Fire spewing from their rifles, their fire was shattering glasses and bottles all around us. One of their bullets hitting Leonardo’s beer bottle, chunks of glass were ejected across. A larger one missed my cheek by a hair, my gut reaction was to duck back down.
No.
Hell, no.
I wasn’t going to die hiding.
I was going to go standing on my feet. Not crouching under a table like a terrified kid.
I threw one last glance at Cesare and Leonardo. Their sides against their chairs, they were peeking over their top, their guns pointing up at the ceiling. Cesare threw his arm forward, before his weapon hurled four bullets in quick succession. He yanked his arm back and stole a glance at me.
That emotion in his eyes…
That fear dictated my next move.
I gripped the side of the table and knocked it over. Rolling away from my spot, it came to a halt with its top facing our wannabe killers. I dropped to the deck, a bullet getting lodged into the leg of the couch I’d been sitting on when those three barged in. I bent both elbows and crawled forward, before looking up at those three. Two of them were side by side on the right of the pool table. Their partner was closer, his gaze on Leonardo. That huge figure and his clean-shaven face were too familiar for me to make a mistake. This was Rocco DeLuca, the so-called head of Owens-Roselli’s security…
I raised my arm over the edge of the table and rested my wrist on the wood, knowing I was just seconds away from taking him out.
Yet, just as he crushed some chunks of glass under his shoe, I felt I was having a déjà vu.
A tremendous blast rocked the bar to its foundations. Light fixtures, tables and even the pool table were blasted away and into the far wall as a fireball roared across the hall. My body was picked up like it was a leaf. Caught in the shockwave, I was blown several feet to the right. My left arm smashed down into the floor, and I rolled across glass and chunks of wood alike. One of those splinters was lodged into the palm of my hand, a loud buzz rising in my ears. I wound up lying on my back, moans of agony lacing the atmosphere. I could hear some behind me, my eyes on Cesare and Leonardo. Cesare had tumbled to his chest, a large cut across his forehead. Leonardo was on his side, his head thrown back as he clutched his knee. His beige shirt had large chunks of fabric missing from it, while his forearms were completely bare. Blood was dripping down his right one, having reached his wrist.
I looked down at myself, only to find that my pants had been ripped to shreds as well. There was also a large hole in my red shirt, right over the stomach. Feeling moisture on my thigh, I spotted cuts in my flesh. My blood had soaked what remained of my pants and was dripping on the floor.
“Get the fuck out…”
